Author's Note: This is a new fic, based upon an AU prompt I got on my tumblr [ swanmo ]

Disclaimer: I own nothing, aside from the words. Everything belongs to Addy, Eddy and the person who sent me the prompt.


The blonde was sick of how her luck was going lately. She was sick, and tired of the life she was living, and absolutely hated the clubs she was having to sing at to make ends meet. She knew she had talent, and she knew her talent was different to what was popular in the charts, and that's what she thought would be her break. Emma didn't have the usual popstar/diva appearance, instead when she sang, she wore folksy dresses, and flowers in her hair. She sang of distant lands and the colors of flowers, and how they likened to loves she had lost. But, that was nothing like what the young'uns of the day wanted to hear.

At one particular club, on one particular night, Emma was halfway through her set, and nobody was really listening to her music. She had written a couple of her own songs, about a mystical, magical land not in this world, and she was showcasing it for the few patrons who were regulars. During the bridge, a bottle came hurtling towards her, clipping her forehead as she tried to duck out of the way, causing her set to fall apart as the musicians scattered to avoid the smashed pieces of glass and wayward beer.

When she looked back up, hands still wrapped around the microphone, Emma tried to see beyond the lights that were now blinding her. She could hear the jeers and the chatter as the patrons continued with their conversations, still not paying much attention to her. She turned to her band, and shook her head. It was time to pack up.

As the band departed, and she gathered her things from the corridor behind the stage, Emma sighed and as she turned, came face to face with a man. The shock of someone being so close to her caused her to drop her things. She swallowed, a little flustered and embarrassed as she bent to grasp at her belongings. She shook her head and muttered, "I'm sorry…I just got a little startled…" she bit her lip.

"Here, love…you're bleeding." He stated, offering his hand to her to take and stand. She did, and out came his handkerchief. He smiled to her, and led her to a seat, a little along the corridor, next to a sink. He wet the handkerchief and dabbed it across the brow that had been hit. When she winced, he tucked his fingers into her hair and smiled gently down to her, "Sorry, it's pretty deep…" he told her, dabbing the last of the blood.

When he had finished cleaning her brow, he tossed the handkerchief -not a cheap one- into the trash beside the sink, and dropped his hand from Emma hair. He gave her one last smile as she stood and moved back to her belongings, before he called out to her, "I'm Killian. Do you have a name…?" he ducked his head, trying to get her to look at him again.

She stopped a moment. Emma had heard of this man, if he was who she thought he was, then she could work some magic and try get a career going. Turning her head slightly, she looked to him and deadpanned, "No." as she grabbed at her things. After a moment though, she added, "I'm not known at least…"

"And, why's that, love?" he asked her, straightforward, no nonsense about his tone.

Emma just glared at him and wrenched her things from the floor, "I don't know!" she hissed, scuffling along the corridor to get out the backdoor entrance.

"If it's worth anything, lass…I liked your music!" he called after her, watching her disappear into the night with her bags, and a little less dignity than she had entered the club with earlier than night.

As she stood outside, breathing in the fresh air of the night, Emma couldn't help but let out her emotions. It was something she hardly ever did, but with everything that had happened over the past few months, with watching her lover, Graham die, and then having to deal with being abandoned by her lover, Neal…it was a wonder Emma had stayed this strong for so long. But, with the things that had happened at the club, she had to let some of it out. And, as she cried, she dug into her coat pocket for a tissue or handkerchief, or something to wipe her eyes with, but instead, she found a card. Pulling it out, she blinked away the tears and sniffled back as she read the elegant scrawl across the card; KILLIAN JONES - MANAGER/PRODUCER - 621-4532-857. Of course he was a manager/producer. Of. Course!


The blonde had taken a couple of days before she had even bothered to call Killian's office, and it had taken him two more to get back in contact with her. He had invited her to join him at his office/studio, and she had reluctantly accepted yet had been secretly overjoyed he'd asked her. And so, to Killian's place she went, gussied up and ready to discuss a career with him.

When he called her into his office, Emma swallowed and looked around. She hadn't seen anything like it. There were so many gadgets, pretty much all resembling something she would have only dreamed of seeing on the inside of a spaceship. And as he sat there behind a large oak desk, the blonde gawped at the office, and the sheer size and expensiveness of everything inside. And, she was in the midst of it all.

"Welcome, love. It's nice to see you again…" Killian spoke up, standing to greet her. He rounded his desk and smiled at Emma, walking straight past her for his scotch canister on the dresser behind her. Opening the bottle, he inhaled deeply, allowing the drink to fill his lungs before he turned to her, "Can I pour you a glass?" he asked her lightly.

"What? Oh, sure…" she stuttered a little, making her way to the window to look down on the world below. Riding the elevator, she didn't think twenty five storeys was that high up the building, but looking down, she could see how high up they were. He appeared beside her, and held out the glass to her. As Emma took the scotch, she turned to Killian, sipped the alcohol and winced a little as she felt it burn. She took a moment before she spoke up again, "Why did you ask me to come here? Or, more importantly, why did you leave your card in my coat pocket?" she raised a brow.

"Isn't it obvious, love?" Killian began, his accent grating on her, wearing her thin already, "I'd like to buy your song." he smiled, flicked his brow briefly and took a hit of scotch from his glass, all the while, he maintained eye contact with her.

Emma narrowed her eyes a little, slightly challenging but with a hint of playfulness behind them as she countered him, "You're not getting the song without me." Emma began, this was something that could launch her career, and she wasn't about to let this opportunity pass her by, "You sign me, and I will sing the song…" she tested him.

Killian thought for a moment, swirling the golden liquid around in the glass, watching it slosh over the chiseled ice before he spoke up, his eyes falling over Emma slowly, "I can't do that." he told her, shaking his head minutely.

"Why not? You want the song or not?"

"I can give you whatever you want for it, you name a price, I'll pay it."

"I'm not going to give you it." Emma frowned, she tossed back the last of her scotch and moved away from the window. She placed her empty glass on his desk and as she was about to collect her purse, she heard Killian speak up again.

"I'm sorry, love. I can't give you what you want…"

Emma glanced over her shoulder and frowned gently. She sighed, turning back towards the door briefly. After a moment though, she turned back to Killian and moved over towards him. Emma stared him down as she continued forwards before finally, she spoke up, her eyes locked with his, "Well, maybe I can change your mind…" she stated, her fingers reaching for his belt buckle and zipper.