Written for CS AU Week, Day 4: Another time

Sheriff Emma Nolan knew life on the frontier would be hard. But not this hard. The kind that drains a girl every day, making her want to pack up and head home—but at the same time making life worth living and looking forward to the next. Because every day that's filled with heartbreak is followed by another full of hope.

Emma grew up fairly wealthy out east, with loving parents and excellent prospects. But she craved adventure.
So at 18, she ran off with an adventure called Neal Cassidy. He too knew what it was like to want to break free from your family's expectations, and they proceeded to pick their way across the country, pulling heists to make ends meet and hopping trains headed west. She'd never felt more alive as she watched the scenery change from lush forests to rolling plains to dry deserts and everything in between.

Until their trail of larceny caught up to them in a small town on the edge of the prairie, maybe somewhere in the Wyoming territory. Someone wanted revenge—some bandit they'd double-crossed—and executed it, and Neal, with a pistol. She immediately took her own vengeance, but still had to watch as her love died in her arms.

She was shaken to her core, but had to move on and away, so she jumped on the next train out of town and hopped off a day later in the sleepy village of Storybrooke, Colorado: a dusty little place nestled in the valley of the red mountains that decorated the landscape of the west.

A decade later, the town was growing, much like her son, Henry—the spitting image of the father he never knew. Gold had been found in the nearby hills, attracting more and more people from all walks of life, including the seedier paths.

Several years back, she'd gained Sheriff Graham's trust after she saved him from a run-in with a band of outlaws and he appointed her his deputy. They worked well together and kept the town safe. But she wasn't able to save him from the next group of bandits to come through; she was tending to a disturbance at the bar while he was shot in cold blood. Her first act after taking over the mantle of sheriff was to track down the ne'erdowells and use the full force of the law against them.

It had been a few years since that incident, and she managed to scare off most of the trash that might have come to town. The legend of Sheriff Nolan had spread far enough that no one dared go up against her; being the only lady in town to don breeches and carry a pistol certainly helped her reputation.

It was a hard job, but rewarding when she knew she would come home every day to Henry and that he was kept out of harm's reach.

Disputes were rising outside town between landholders and the Banning family, a father-and-son prospecting duo who were after all the gold they could get their hands on. She got involved when tensions ran high, but otherwise, that was Mayor Mills' job.

Until a group of bandits began to vandalize the Banning operation. She didn't like the Bannings, particularly the son, but she wouldn't stand for organized crime in her jurisdiction.

Late one night, she intercepted a few of the outlaws at one of the digging sites. She tackled and cuffed one in the dry dirt, then ran after who she assumed was the leader. His long black coat billowed out around him as his lean legs carried him away from her. She had to give up the chase when he mounted a horse as black as the night, but not before she caught sight of his eyes from under his wide-brimmed hat: they glowed a bright blue in the moonlight, a color she hadn't seen since she was a child, watching the ocean from her old bedroom at her parents' New England estate. The man only spared her a passing glance as he and his cohorts rode off in a cloud of dust, but she knew she wouldn't easily forget those eyes.

The man she'd caught—Scarlett was his name—revealed nothing of their bandit operation, just that it was between them and the Bannings. Not liking that answer, she held him for a few more days, hoping he'd eventually talk.

He didn't, but someone else did.

"Pardon me, ma'am, but I'm looking for the sheriff? I believe one of my mates has been locked up."

She was perched at her desk in the station, reading, when an accented voice followed some heavy steps. Her eyes slowly traveled up, seeking the face speaking to her and taking in the man as she did.

Dusty boots were planted on the equally dusty floor. A familiar black trench coat hung on his trim form and fell past his knees, covering dark breeches and a faded red waistcoat. A matching bandana was tied at his neck, doing little to cover the fair amount of his chest that was exposed.

She finally realized just who she was dealing with when she reached his face (his unreasonably attractive face, if she was being honest), somewhat hidden beneath the brim of his hat: a strong jaw covered in scruff hid his age, but nothing could disguise those bright blue eyes, lit up with a dashing grin.

"Who wants to know?" she asked nonchalantly, having played enough poker with her deputies to know just how to play her cards.

"Killian Jones, ma'am," he replied politely, taking off his hat and shaking out his shaggy, dark hair. "Now if you'd be so kind as to fetch the sheriff, I'd appreciate it; my friend is sorely needed back home."

"You new around here, Jones?" She stood, staring him down, and stepped around the desk to stand in front of him, angling her hips so he could see her pistol in its holster.

"Aye, a bit. With all due respect, I don't see how that's relevant—"

He hadn't finished his sentence before she slapped a pair of cuffs on his wrists and was pushing him into the closest cell, using his confusion to her advantage and praying she could lock the door before he regained his faculties—he had several inches on her, and she'd already see him run.

He stumbled when she shoved him through the opening, and she quickly pulled the cell door shut, slamming the lock with a bang.

"What the bloody hell is this?" Jones shouted, grabbing the bars and shaking them.

Calmly—though her heart was racing—she stood in his view and placed her hands on her hips, pushing her open leather vest aside as she did to reveal the shiny golden badge pinned to her belt.

"Wait—you're Sheriff Nolan?"

"Pleased to meet you, Jones, and welcome to Storybrooke. Can I ask why you were out at the Banning site a few nights ago?"

He clenched his jaw and stared her down, a look of both frustration and defiance in his eyes as he remained silent.

"Okay, then; have it your way. It's no difference to me if you stay locked up." Actually, she was more than fine with that—she'd heard rumors of a ruthless band of outlaws led by a mysterious Jones, and if she had their leader under lock and key, she'd keep him there until the proper higher authorities could be contacted. She just hadn't realized it was the same group attacking the Bannings.

"You've got no reason. Why do this to me now?"

"I can't take the chance I'm wrong about you." As charming as he was at first, she'd seen him in action, and given how quickly he turned to rage just now, his temper wasn't one she'd like to cross. She turned around and stalked back to her desk, plopped down in her chair, and pried her feet up. Reaching for her book, she told him, "When you feel like talking, I'll be here."

A few hours later, she heard some familiar running steps headed toward the station and put her book down.

"Hi, Ma!"

"Hey, kid!"

Henry ran around the desk and threw his arms around her.

"How was school?"

"It was great! I got the highest score in the class on our arithmetic exam!"

"That's awesome, kid; I'm so proud of you." It never ceased to amaze her just how smart her son was. She pecked his cheek for emphasis, and then caught Jones staring at them.

"Are you ready to leave?" He always fetched her at the end of the day before they went home; it was her favorite routine.

"Afraid not; I've got a couple prisoners here to watch tonight. But why don't you go see if Miss Ruby can throw something together for us to eat here?"

"Alright!" Henry was halfway out the door before she could tack on a request for two "lock-up specials," as they were known.

Henry bounced back in not 15 minutes later, with two pails and two tin boxes. "Miss Ruby also says to make sure you're not up all night."

Emma smiled; Ruby and her grandmother had taken Emma in when she first arrived in town with nowhere else to go, and had always helped her with Henry. The women ran both the saloon and the inn across the street, which was where Emma and Henry lived.

"Miss Ruby worries too much," Emma replied with a smirk, taking the pails from Henry. She took the first over to Jones, who just eyed her with a sidelong glance. "Hungry?"

He didn't reply.

She still set the pail down—filled with potatoes and chicken—in the cell through a gap in the bars, maybe a bit rougher than necessary, and did the same for Scarlett, who had developed an appetite for it over the past few days, it seemed.

She and Henry dug into their similar meals, accompanied by cornbread and a bit of cake, while he told her about his day. She was very aware of Jones' continued gaze on them but pointedly ignored it; this was her time with her son.

The blue sky had faded to orange by the time they were done. "Are you coming, Ma?" Henry asked as he packed up his school books.

"Not tonight, kid." It wasn't the first night she'd sent him home alone, and wouldn't be the last, but she knew Ruby and Granny would keep a good eye on him. (Emma may have a reputation as one of the fiercest sheriffs in the West, but everyone knew not to cross Granny—most of the bar fights that broke out in her saloon were between an unruly patron and herself, and usually ended with Granny's crossbow leveled at the offender. Henry was completely safe with them.)

"Alright, ma. I love you."

"Love you, too. Sleep tight." And with a kiss on the head, he was off. She watched him from doorway as he ran through the dusty street to the inn, waiting for the lantern in their upstairs apartment to indicate he'd gotten in safe.

"Smart boy," Jones said, jarring her from her thoughts. She glanced over at him but made no reply. "You and your husband must be proud." Her brow furrowed at the word "husband," and, making sure their window was illuminated, she crossed the room to the cell.

"What makes you think I have a husband?" She'd grown used to the mutters and stares from some of the older residents of the town, and knew what they thought about the impropriety of a single unwed mother, but she'd fought long and hard to show that she not only didn't need a husband, but was more than capable of fending for herself and her son.

"Apologies, love; I merely assumed a lass as fearsome as you would surely have an admirer."

"I'm not your love." Truth was, she did have an admirer—well, had; she and Graham had been a bit more than friends, but hadn't been able to go farther than that before he was murdered. And she hadn't dared get close to anyone since.

"Aren't you, now?" Was he really trying to flirt from the other side of a jail cell?

"Finish your dinner," she replied as she rolled her eyes and began to walk away—because if she didn't, she might stop ignoring the butterflies in her stomach that started to flutter when he spoke.

"I'm done; give it to my horse."

"Your horse is taken care of."

"She is?" He seemed surprised, but she could see the concern in his eyes when she looked back.

"The black one, right?"

"Aye."

"Yep. Nearly took my hand off, though. I've never heard of a horse who didn't want oats."

"My Jewel is a fierce beast, but loyal. Fastest horse in the West." She could hear his love for the creature permeating through his drawl, and softened a bit before remembering that he was supposed to be one of the toughest outlaws around.

"I'll believe it when I see it."

"Oh, I do love a challenge."

She just scoffed at sat back down, incredulous and amused at his behavior. She lit the oil lamp on the desk and settled in with her book again, knowing a long night lie ahead of her making sure the two troublemakers didn't stir up anything else.

"Are you really going to babysit us all night?"

"Someone has to."

"Your cells are pretty sturdy; I don't think we're going anywhere."

"Yeah, but it gives me peace of mind. Tell me, what would you do if I wasn't here?"

"Try to break out."

"Exactly."

She sighed and contemplated digging out the cot kept at the station, but there was something unsettling about Jones that told her she couldn't take her eyes off him for a second. Or maybe that she didn't want to? No. There was no way she was having those kinds of thoughts about a criminal, a bandit; his kind had taken too much from her already.

A few hours passed before Jones spoke again. "What time is it, ma'am?"

"Back to ma'am?"

"As you said, you're not my love." What she expected to be a quip came out rather somber.

She dug into her vest for the pocket watch she'd taken to wearing these past ten years, tracing over the worn NC engraved on the casing. She planned on giving to Henry when he was old enough. "It's near 11 o'clock."

He cursed and threw himself back against the flimsy cot in the cell.

"Did you have somewhere to be?"

"Not anymore."

"Let me guess: I foiled your plans for the Bannings."

"Something like that."

"Well, I can't say I'm sorry."

She watched as he ran a frustrated hand over his face and through his hair, illuminated by the moonlight filtering through the cell window.

"Just why are you out to get them?" she asked.

He sighed. "He killed her," he whispered. She wasn't sure she'd heard him correctly, but wasn't about to ask him to repeat it. He continued on anyway. "He shot her in cold blood, and I had to watch her die in my arms."

She sucked in a breath. The image of Neal swam into her vision, blood pooling out of the wound in his chest as he lie across her lap. He told her loved her, and she said it back. And then he was gone. And then it was Graham, lying on the ground, unseeing eyes open and his shirt stained crimson.

"Sheriff?" His voice brought her back to reality; that, and the cut of metal into her palm—she was squeezing the pocket watch.

"Sorry. It's just...I've been there."

"My condolences." He paused and sat up, back against the cell and facing the window. The moonlight illuminated his sharp profile. "Your boy's father?"

"Yeah." She'd never told anyone about what happened with Neal, not even Ruby; and here, this bandit gets out of her with little prompting.

"How did you deal with it?"

"I shot the bastard and ran."

"So you're allowed to take revenge, but I'm not?"

"I didn't say I killed him." She truly hadn't shot to kill; she didn't even stick around long enough to see where she hit him. The man had cried out in pain and she had left, pausing only long enough to grab Neal's watch.

"So what did you do then?"

"I found another reason to go on. My son." Finding out she was pregnant had pulled her back from the edge and truly had been the greatest thing to happen to her. "His father's memory lives on in him, and that's enough for me."

"Not all of us are so lucky, lass," he said, resigned, and lay back down.

A part of her heart went out to him, but she still couldn't let him run free.

A traitorous part of her brain reminded her that she hadn't actually caught him doing anything, and there were no warrants out for his arrest. But still—the Bannings created enough trouble on their own; she didn't need him and his band of miscreants adding to it.

"Can you promise me something, Jones?"

"Hmm?"

"If I let you out in the morning, will you let the Bannings be?"

"And then what?"

"Find something else to live for."

"Pass."

She couldn't say she hadn't given him a chance. "Suit yourself."

She tried to read as the night wore on, but found herself unable to focus on the story, too distracted by the presence in that cell. He seemed like a good man underneath his rough, heartbroken exterior, but he'd let it consume him, and that was no way to live. However, she understood that pain and anger, and he understood her past as well—she'd yet to encounter anyone who could say that.

Sometime around 4 in the morning, the night sky still an inky black, she was jolted from near-sleep by a voice—his voice.

"Sheriff?"

"Wha—yes?"

"What if I took you up on that offer? Would you do something for me in exchange?"

"Depends."

"Have you ever seen the sunrise from Hopper's Bluff?"

What was he getting at? "Can't say I have."

He swallowed. "If you let me out of here and accompany me up there, I'll drop my agenda against the Bannings."

It was her turn to swallow—swallow her nerves and take a leap of faith, despite everything she'd been through in the past decade. "Okay."

She could almost hear his smile from across the room. "Excellent."

A few minutes later, they were outside getting the horses ready. The horizon was beginning to lighten, but the many stars out here were still on full display, dotting the sky. He and Jewel led her and her trusty mare, Lily, toward a well-worn path in the rocky terrain. The moon still gave just enough light that they could see where they were going, and he seemed to know the path well.

After about an hour's ride, they reached the top of the bluff. Yellow light was just beginning to peek over the horizon, painting the sky pink and purple and casting long shadows over the now-quiet town.

They sat on their horses in silence, just watching the changing colors as the bright orange sun rose.

"Is that not the most beautiful thing you've ever seen in your life?" he asked. He looked more at peace than he had at any other time over the past day and a half, a serene smile covering his face and revealing dimples under the well-trimmed scruff.

"Second-most beautiful," she replied.

"Only the second?"

"It's kind of hard to beat looking at your newborn son for the first time." She smiled at the memory.

He chuckled. "I'll give you that." She could feel his gaze linger on her even though she'd gone back to admiring God's work on the landscape.

They didn't stay much longer, knowing the descent would be trickier than the climb, but long enough for the sky to begin to turn blue.

Something in the air around them changed as they headed back. Perhaps it was his resolve to turn his life around, or maybe she was finally letting go of some of the prejudices that had haunted her. Perhaps both. Either way, she had realized that she could trust Killian Jones.

He followed her into the station when they returned. "Thank you again, Sheriff Nolan, for accompanying me this morning."

"You promise no more trouble?"

"I swear on my life." She could see in his eyes he was telling the truth.

"Good."

She let Scarlett out, giving him a lecture with her glare, and he sheepishly followed Jones outside.

"Take care, Jones," she said as he lithely climbed on top of Jewel.

"You as well, Sheriff." He turned his horse around, about to leave, when he stopped and look back at her. "I can't...I don't believe I caught your first name."

"I never gave it." She flashed a cheeky grin at him; it felt good to engage in playful banter with someone who wasn't Ruby or Granny.

"Might I enquire the lady's name, then?" he asked with a mock bow.

"Emma."

"Emma," he repeated. She liked the way he said it. "It suits you, love."

And with a tip of his hat, he was gone. (And she hadn't bothered to correct him.)

Weeks went by since her first run-in with Killian Jones, and she was happy to say there had been a few more, but on the right side of the law this time. True to his word, he and his group of bandits had left the town and the Bannings alone. She had no idea what they were actually up to, but they passed through Storybrooke every few days seeking supplies and food. Occasionally, Jones would let the room in Granny's adjacent to hers; on those nights, the two would eat, drink, and converse in the saloon, talking about their lives. He told her about his brother, Liam, who he admired, but then had been killed in the War between the States; his life growing up in Texas; the strength of his mother after their father left them; and about Milah, his first love, killed by the jealous Banning son. She told him about her parents back east and how they still kept in touch, even though she hadn't been there in a decade; what Henry was like as a toddler; taking over the role of Sheriff and what led to that; and about Neal, their adventure together and its tragic end. Some evenings he spent with both her and Henry, and the two got along famously; she loved to watch the boys bounce questions and answers back and forth. Henry had many mothers, but he'd never truly had a father figure, and he seemed to be finding that in Killian.

In each other, Emma and Killian had discovered a confidant, a kindred soul—but she was still too scared by what had happened with Neal and Graham to truly let him close, knowing the dangerous lives they both led.

On the opposite end, the Bannings were getting more aggressive. They had tried several times to push landowners right off their property, attempting to claim they were with the government and using eminent domain laws to go after the gold that may or may not be in the ground. Emma spent enough time at boarding school to know the law, and whenever she demanded that they provide proof of their positions, they would leave. She'd foiled their plans on several occasions so far and knew they were angry, but nothing had prepared her for what greeted her at home on one otherwise quiet afternoon.

"Henry?" she called out. He hadn't come to visit her at the station after school, so she assumed he'd just headed home. But their apartment was empty.

On their small dining table was a crisp, white envelope, with her name written on the outside in scrolling handwriting. Her heart raced as she opened it and her hands shook as she read it.

Dearest Sheriff Nolan—

That's one time too many you've interefered where you don't belong. If you'd ever like to see your son again, turn in your badge. We'll wait for the announcement and your word. Otherwise, your son dies.

—P. Banning & son

She collapsed upon reading the end. No. They can't take my baby. All the pain and fear that she'd finally buried came roaring to the surface and there was nothing she could do to hold back the sobs that came pouring out.

A knock at the door momentarily distracted her; she looked up with tear-rimmed eyes at Killian. He rushed over and knelt next to her on the floor. "Love, what is it?"

She shoved the letter in his hands and tried to compose herself; if she was going to get Henry back, she couldn't be hysterical. But all she could see was Neal and Graham all over again.

Having read the letter, Killian cursed. "Bloody bastards, the whole lot of them." He placed his strong hands on Emma's arms. "Look at me, Sheriff: We will get Henry back. I think I know where they have him and I won't let that cowardly crocodile of a man harm a hair on your boy's head."

She took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay. Let's go."

They raced to the Banning compound on horseback. Killian was right—Jewel really was the fastest horse Emma had seen, but she and Lily managed to keep up.

Shortly, they reached a massive ranch house a few miles outside town, and both jumped off their horses. She followed Killian's lead around the property, carefully picking their way to a back entrance into the basement of the house.

"You sure you know where you're going?" she whispered.

"All too well, love; all too well."

Finding nothing in the lower part of the house and hearing only silence above, they tiptoed up the stairs to the main floor. They both kept their guns drawn as they slowly made their way through, quietly opening doors to many empty rooms, until finally—finally—finding the right one. Henry was tied to a chair and a bit thirsty, but otherwise untouched.

She ran and embraced him, restraining herself from exclaiming her relief, and quickly jumped behind him to cut the ropes that tied his ankles and wrists with her pocket knife.

Until she heard a thud and the familiar clicking of a gun, partnered with Henry's sharp intake of breath.

"Just what do you think you're doing, Sheriff Nolan?" a sinister voice called out from in front of Henry. Slowly she stood, staring down the younger Banning, who had his pistol leveled at Henry's head. Killian lay crumpled near the door, a purple bruise beginning to form at his temple.

"I'm taking back my son. In case you weren't aware, kidnapping is just as illegal as what you've been trying to do to the citizens of Storybrooke."

"Oh, I'm aware. But what you're missing is the part where I don't care." He gave a sideways sneer that revealed a gold tooth.

She began to move her hand to her pistol.

"Ah-ah, dearie; you touch that gun and I use mine."

"Mom?" Henry whispered, fear shaking his voice.

"I'm right here, kid." She reached out and squeezed his shoulder.

"Now I believe our terms were that you would resign as sheriff in order to get your son back. But I still see that badge on your belt. You haven't held up your part of the deal yet."

"We never agreed to the deal, Banning."

She could see the anger building behind the man's brown eyes. He was well-dressed, but clearly lacked manners; a trait she knew he learned from his father.

"You take that badge off now, or I shoot!" Banning shouted. The man's hand began to shake, and his trigger finger began to move. He was building into a rage, and she didn't have a choice. As much as she loved keeping the town safe, it meant nothing if she lost her son. Her hand slowly moved to cover the badge at her hip, but before she could slide it off, a shot rang out in the room.

"No," she gasped, disoriented by the ringing in her ears and unable to tell where it came from, but fearing the worst.

But Banning's arm began to drop, and his pistol clattered to the floor. His hand moved to his chest, where blood was pooling out onto his white shirt. His knees buckled, and then he collapsed completely. That's when she saw Killian, still splayed on the floor, but with his pistol raised at where the man had been standing.

Emma instinctively finished cutting away the ropes that bound Henry while Killian slowly moved to stand over Banning. Once Henry was freed, he was pushed out of the room.

"Killian, come on," she whispered, placing a hand on his arm and drawing his gaze away from the dying man. "It's time to leave." They didn't need to talk about what had just happened; they both knew the levity of the moment. But still Killian spoke.

"He wasn't going to take the people I love from me again." She nodded in response, still too shaken to deal with the gravity of what he'd just confessed.

It wasn't until they returned to the Inn and she'd put Henry to bed that she truly let the day's events hit her.

They were seated in a quiet corner of the saloon, nursing their ales and their injuries, both mental and physical.

"Killian...thank you for saving Henry."

"All in a day's work, love," he said tiredly.

She smiled, but then took a deep breath. "About what you said before we left…" she trailed off, but looked him straight in the eye.

"Aye."

"Did you mean it?"

"Every word, Emma."

Her heart raced and her face flushed. Slowly, she shortened the distance between them, reaching for the lapels of his jacket to bring him closer, and found his lips. She hadn't had a passionate kiss since Neal, but she knew in this moment that she'd only ever kiss Killian again. He responded in kind, saying as much in his actions as he did with his words earlier.

Eventually pulling apart, she whispered, "I love you, too."

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!

Note: The last name Banning comes from the movie Hook, where Peter's name in our world is Peter Banning. If you haven't seen that amazing movie, go watch it!