Mary Margaret would tell her that "red" looked like the warm feeling you get when you step into the shower after a long, cold day and that her eyes were as brilliantly green as the leaves of a flowering tree on an early spring day. Ever since she had met and married David Nolan, Mary Margaret tried to describe all the varied hues of the world she saw through the lens of "True Love." She insisted that when you find your true love, your world is no longer limited to black and white and that life was meant to be lived in color.

Emma only listened to placate her friend. Though it was common knowledge that those who found "the one," their "soulmate" insisted that they saw the world in color, Emma Swan was a skeptical woman. Her world had always been black and white and honestly, that was fine with her. Emma had a good life. She had Henry, she had Neal, she had friends with crazy theories who loved her completely. Emma treasured the little life she had cultivated in New York City. She and Neal went to work, picked Henry up from school, ordered chinese for dinner. While Mary Margaret saw colors, Emma focused instead on real, tangible things that made her happy. If all of those things happened to be varied grey hues, what was so wrong with that? Honestly, Emma didn't have any concept of what colors even were, having only ever known black and white. Why long for something you've never had, when what you already have is pretty damn good?

"Hey, mom." Henry shed his backpack, kicked off his shoes by the front door and kissed his mom on the cheek as she stirred a pot on the stove.

"Hey kid. How was school?"

"Good. You're home early. Your text said you'd be out late."

"Turns out the guy wasn't as smart as I thought. I turned him in a couple of hours ago."

"Awesome!" Henry said enthusiastically. Though his mother rarely told him the particulars of her job, he knew enough to know that if Mom caught the bad guy, it was going to be a good day. He opened a cupboard and took out a box of cookies.

"Hey," his mom admonished, "just one. We're going to have dinner in a bit."

"Okay," Henry said, biting down and talking through his mouthful of cookie, "My class is going on a field trip to the natural history museum next week. There's a permission slip in my bag."

"Put it on the counter before you go to bed and I'll sign it in the morning." Emma said as she turned off the stove.

"When's Dad coming home?"

Emma looked up at the clock. "Any minute now. Do you have homework?"

"Yeah, not much though."

"Alright, why don't you take care of that after dinner."

"Cool."

Emma sat at their small kitchen table in their cozy (small) midtown apartment and smiled as she listened to Henry and Neal talking over their bowls of mac and cheese; a staple in the Swan-Cassidy household.

After dinner, Henry went to do his homework and Emma and Neal sat together on the couch to watch Game of Thrones. She laid her head on his shoulder and he wrapped his arm around her.

Later that night, Emma and Neal made love in their bed. She didn't see fireworks, but her toes almost curled at the end. Almost.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

"Wait, why do we need flowers?" Emma asked, her phone at her ear as she walked quickly past 73rd st.

"Because," Neal said, "Your friend just had a baby. Customarily, people bring flowers."

"Why? No one brought flowers when Henry was born."

"They wanted to. You told them not to." Neal reminded her. She could hear the exasperation in his voice.

"Oh, right." Emma scowled as she crossed the street and slipped under the awning that read Second Star Florists. "Well, I still think it's ridiculous idea."

"Duly noted." Neal said dully. There was an awkward pause.

"So I'll see you there?" Emma asked as the little bell on the door jingled.

"Uh… yeah, I'll try to get there. Work's sort of crazy at the moment."

"Okay." Emma said with a heavy sigh, "I'll text you."

"Okay, love you."

"Uh-huh. Love you too. Bye." Emma turned off her phone and finally looked up at the man behind the counter. Emma's heart did a small flip flop. Standing beside the register was the most attractive man she had ever seen, and there was no shortage of good looking men in the city.

He smiled at her solicitously and asked "Can I help you find something, love?"

Dear god, he had an accent. Emma cleared her throat and tried to keep her voice steady. "Yeah, I'm looking for flowers."

Of course you're looking for flowers, Emma. You're in a flower shop.

The man smiled kindly. "Is there a special occasion?"

Emma took a deep breath. "Yeah, my friend. She just had a baby."

"Congratulations." He sounded sincere. "Do you know if she has a particular favorite?"

"Well… She told me once that red was her favorite color." Emma said.

The man's smile faltered. Only for a moment. Then he walked toward one of the coolers lining the walls and slid open a door. As he reached in to pull out a flower, he said; "hmm… well, I know most people are partial to the rose but I actually favor the Dahlia. It has a far more intricate design, and they say that the sharper edges really make the colors burst."

He lifted a flower out of a water vase and held it out to her. Emma took it from him, a somewhat dazed expression on her face. She barely heard what he was saying. She was so lost in the movement of his lips that she began to wonder what it would be like to kiss them.

Married. She told herself. You. Are. Married. What are you doing?

Emma mentally shook herself again. "Thanks," she said, indicating the flower. "This is the red one?"

He looked uncertainly at the stem in her hand. "Yes, I believe so."

"You believe so?" She repeated, "You don't see color?"

Emma could tell he was blushing from the darkening of his grey cheeks. "No," he admitted, looking away from her, "I don't see color."

"Me neither."

The stranger smiled again. Emma couldn't help it; she smiled right back. In spite of herself, she felt a strange connection with this man.

"I'm Emma." she said.

"Killian."

Emma tried not to swoon. Seriously? "It's nice to meet you." she reached out the hand that was not holding a flower and he shook it, his smile growing wider.

The second their hands touched, Emma felt a shock. A bolt of electricity shot from her hand and ricocheted around her body. She dropped his hand at once. His smiled faded. It was clear he worried that he had offended her.

"So, I think you're right. I'll take the Dahlia." She said quickly, handing the flower back to him and trying to cover up her momentary awkwardness. Killian went about gathering a bouquet of dahlias, matching the others to the same shade of grey as the one in his hand, and returned to the front register. As Emma handed him her card, Killian stared at something just above her ear. Emma turned around but there didn't seem to be anything strange behind her.

"Is… Is everything alright?" Emma asked uncertainly.

It was Killian's turn to give his head a little shake. "Yes, of course. Sorry about that. I just saw… something."

He rang her up and made no more mention of anything out of the ordinary yet when Emma walked toward the door, she quickly looked behind her and saw that he was still staring at her, his mouth slightly agape. His expression was something more than shock. It wasn't until later that she realized there was fear in his eyes. Once he saw her looking back at him, however, he hastily busied himself with something else behind the counter.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

There was something strange about the flower but Emma couldn't quite figure out what it was. Though she didn't remember the last time she had actually seen a Dahlia, these didn't look like typical flowers. Emma stared at them as she sat on the train, heading up to Columbia Presbyterian.

Emma checked in at the front desk, followed the nurse's directions and knocked on the door of 1311. "Come in." said a soft voice. Emma gently pushed the door open.

"Hi." she said quietly. Mary Margaret beamed at her, a tiny figure lying prone on her chest. David was passed out on a chair in the corner. Emma walked over and gave Mary Margaret a kiss on her cheek. She looked down at the baby.

"Oh, Mary Margaret. He's beautiful."

"Yeah," She said, "He is." She looked from her baby to the bouquet in Emma's hand. "You brought flowers!" she laughed quietly.

"They're Dahlias." Emma said.

"Oh. How fancy." Mary Margaret's face shone with complete happiness. "And they're red, too. How did you know?"

"Red!" Emma said loudly. Mary Margaret jumped in surprise. David's eyes flew open and he sat up straight, "Sorry, David." she said quickly.

"It's fine," David said with a yawn. "It's good to see you, Emma."

"It's good to see you too." she responded quietly, fighting a rising panic as she glanced again from the flowers to David. "Congratulations."

"Thanks." David beamed and sat back in his chair, his eyes closing again.

"It's been a long night." Mary Margaret smiled at her husband and kissed the top of the sleeping infant's head.

Emma stared at the bouquet again. How did she not realize that before? The flowers. They weren't grey like everything else in her life. They were red, or at least they looked the way Mary Margaret had always described red. Whatever they were, they were no longer grey. The panic in heart heart must have been evident on her face. Her friend placed a concerned hand on Emma's arm. "Emma, are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Really. I just need the bathroom. I'll be right back." She turned and walked quickly to the little bathroom the room provided. She closed the door and looked in the mirror. Everything there was still normal. At least, she looked the same that she always had. The fixtures in the bathroom, the walls, the door, everything else in her vision was just the same as at always had been. So why were the flowers suddenly red? She thought back the flower shop, trying to pinpoint the moment when everything changed.

Killian. Though she hadn't realized it at the time, Emma now felt certain that the flowers only became red after she had shaken his hand. Emma turned on the faucet and cupped her hands under the icy stream of water. She gently lowered her face onto her hands and felt the cold water spread over her face.

Everyone knew you only saw color once you've meet your "soulmate"; the one person you are meant to be with for the rest of your life. But Emma didn't even believe in soulmates! One person chosen just for you by some great cosmic plan? It frankly sounded like horseshit to her. Emma didn't believe she was part of some grand design. Her actions were her own. Her life was her own. No one else could decide her fate.

Yet the flower was red.

Emma took a deep breath. And then another one. She looked in the mirror and nodded at her reflection. The soulmates thing she'd figure out later but for now she needed to put this crazy mess aside and focus on her friend. Mary Margaret was gazing lazily at the bouquet sitting on her bedside table with a content smile on her face so naturally, when Emma opened the bathroom door, that was the first place she looked as well. The flowers seemed to taunt her. They drew her eyes and once she saw that they were still red, she felt panic threaten to explode within her. Emma pushed her fear aside and sat in the empty chair next to the hospital bed, shifting it slightly so that her back was toward the flowers. She could still sense them there, but at least if she didn't see them, she could almost pretend they didn't exist. Almost.

After about fifteen minutes, Emma noticed Mary Margaret yawning, her eyes growing heavy. Emma took that as her cue to leave. She kissed her friend's cheek again and the top of the sleeping baby's head and shut the door quietly behind her.

Down on the street, Emma raised her arm to hail a cab. A bright yellow car was slowing to a stop beside her. Frantically, Emma waved it on and opened the door of the light grey cab that followed. "23rd and Lex." she said, fighting the persistent shaking of her limbs.

The first thing she noticed was her couch. The couch that she and Neal had picked out together years ago. She could still remember going to the furniture store that day. They had a rather enjoyable time sitting and lying on the various bed and couches in the store but they couldn't find something that felt right. Eventually they picked this one, as it had been the softest and most comfortable. They didn't bother asking about the color, because what difference did it make?

It was orange. But not just any orange. A hideous, straight-from-the-seventies lurid orange. Of all the things in her house to magically appear in color, this monstrosity had to be the first thing. Though Emma had now seen red flowers, a yellow cab, a blue (maybe) bird, and some green (right?) trees, this was the first orange thing she had seen. The only reason she knew that it was orange was because that was what the furniture salesman had said. After briefly mentioning his husband and saying that yes, he could indeed see colors, he said that this couch was "the most beautiful orange. Like a sunset." Emma scoffed now. Either the man was bullshitting her about being able to actually see in color or he just desperately wanted to see this ugly couch.

There was no way Emma could continue to stare at this ugly blob sitting in her living room. She grabbed her keys and her purse back off of the table where she had just set them and headed back out.

Twenty minutes later she was returning from the Bed, Bath and Beyond downtown when she turned a corner and bumped straight into someone.

"Watch it!" she hollered, glancing up at the man. Her jaw dropped. "It's you."

Killian looked as though he had been hit by a steamroller. His entire face went slack; his jaw wide and his eyes bulging. "It's you." he said quietly. Killian gave his head a little shake and rearranged his features into a more natural expression, though he kept glancing at the sides of Emma's face.

"How did your friend like her flowers." he asked, attempting a smile.

Emma didn't know what to say. She never expected to see him again and yet, now that he was here, she couldn't help but feel angry.

"What did you do?"

"S-sorry?" he asked, confused.

"What did you do to that flower? How did you turn it red?" she demanded. Emma didn't believe in soul mates. She couldn't. Not even faced with possible proof that her deepest held belief was, in fact, wrong. Emma was far too stubborn for that.

Killian smiled in relief, "You can see colors, too?" he asked, taking a step toward.

Emma took a step backwards in response. "Whoa, buddy. Don't get any ideas." she held up her hand in front of her, "This doesn't mean anything. I'm not your soul mate. I'm married. I'm... happy. This has to be some stupid trick of yours but, guess what, it's not funny."

His smile became irritating. It was almost patronizing. "I assure you, love. I did not do anything to those flowers other than wrap them in paper."

"Don't call me 'love.'" Emma snapped. She was feeling very off center. Her entire world had turned upside down and Emma couldn't regain her bearings.

Killian held out his hand. "Why don't we start over."

Emma looked warily at the hand. The last time that she touched him, things did not go well. Or they went very well. Better than anything had ever gone before. Regardless, she was afraid of what would happen if she touched his hand again.

"I won't hurt you, Emma. I promise." Emma looked into his eyes again and in that moment, she knew that Killian was telling the truth. He would never hurt her. She took a deep breath and reached out her hand.

The moment her skin touched his, the entire world changed. In the last few hours, since their first meeting, random objects kept appearing in color. Small splashes of life among a sea of muted greys. Now, standing on this crowded street corner in Astor place, the entire world suddenly burst into color. Emma gasped and looked around. It was as though she was waking up from a long dream. The world suddenly seemed truly complete in a way it never had before. It felt right. It made sense. She looked back at Killian and saw the same look of wonderment on his own face. Their eyes met and they smiled at one another.

"Hi." Emma said.

"Hi." Killian replied.