It was rare that Emma Woodhouse was ever dissatisfied with herself and even more seldom did she let feelings of dissatisfaction trouble her for long. But sifting through her drawings that day, thinking of Mr. Knightley and all that he had scolded her for, she felt very, very dissatisfied. Perhaps he had been right in those times he had chided her, but that was not what was so bothering to her. No it was more what he must be thinking of her now, now that she had meddled so incessantly and had no doubt invoked his ill opinion. What irked her even more was to think of why that should trouble her so.

The sun was setting and the rays of light were sifting through the trees to fall like fading memories on the sitting room floor. She Emma had always liked the feeling that sunset gave her, when she was at peace and felt truly content. She had often sat here with Mr. Knightley, and even when he was not there she would smile at the thoughts of the conversations they had shared together. She sighed, trying to ignore the bittersweet pangs in her chest when she brought up such memories now. What was Mr. Knightley to her, now that he could excite such painful feelings in her without even saying a word?

She looked down, realizing that she was holding her one portrait of Mr. Knightley. Her lips curled into an expression of frustration. She rarely looked at the picture as it was by far the worst representation of a person she had ever created, despite what compliments others gave it for the sake of politeness. Emma had always hated false airs, especially ones that were put on for politeness. Oh it was easy to recognize the person in the sketch, but she had long ago realized that she had failed in capturing the exact personality of the man in her drawing. He was too distant.

She put a hand to her lip ponderingly. Perhaps that was what was wrong with the drawing. She could not capture Mr. Knightley's likeness because she did not truly recognize her own feelings for him. What was he to her?

She looked out the window watching the rays of sunlight fade slowly behind the large oaktree that stood proudly on the edge of the garden…

…and she was thirteen again. She sat in one of the tree's low branches swinging her feet nonchalantly while she watched Isabelle and John playing croquet together with and interested eye. She laughed every time she noticed her sister beat him and smiled knowingly every time John paid her a compliment, which was quite often.

"And what is it, Miss Emma, that enthralls your interest so much?" A young man was standing next to her. Even when she sat in the tree branch his head reached an inch or two above hers. His dark eyes looked at her with amusement and friendliness and his discreet smile made hers brighten all the more.

"Oh just Isabelle and John. I wonder if your brother realizes how obvious he makes it that he fancies her? I wonder how long it will be until they marry and I become an aunt?" She frowned briefly. "And why do you call me 'Miss Emma'? You know no one cares if you call me by my Christian name. And I've known you my whole life so I really don't care either." Mr. Knightley frowned looking at his brother and Emma's sister.

"Do not let your fancy take hold of you mouth so often. Both John and Isabelle are still very young and their affections may prove to be fickle and subject to change when they see more of the world. As for calling you 'Miss' you are becoming old enough to be called that." Emma was taken aback by the stern tone of her friend. She could tell he was scolding her, however discreetly and as a child she could not think of a suitable reply. Her smile lit up again though when she saw the smug look on Mr. Knightley's face as he looked at the two young adolescents.

"You would like to see them together though, wouldn't you?" she said allowing her own smile to return.

"We shall see where the whirligig of time takes them." They sat for awhile in the summer sun, Emma enjoying the freedom of her childhood, a sweetness that was slowly fading away as she was reminded daily. Just a week ago she had woken up with blood running down the side of leg and had learned the larger meaning that was tied with the first of a girl's monthly showing. She thought of how Mr. Knightley had called her 'Miss' coupled with that stern tone that was, even in jest, cold an unfamiliar and worried that it would mean she would soon lose her friendship with this man that had been her older brother for her entire life.

"Mr. Knightley," she said quietly, "if you keep on calling me 'Miss' then will that mean I will not be allowed to talk to you so openly anymore. Is it 'proper' as they say for us to continue being good friends?" Mr. Knightley turned to face her frowning.

"If you truly do not wish it I will cease to call you Miss and you shall continue to be Emma to me. As for us being friends, I assure you there is absolutely nothing improper about it. And even if there was I would gladly brave the disapproval of every gossiping old spinster in England to continue it." She could not help but grin and he smiled warmly at her taking her hand. "You and I will always be friends Emma, that I will gladly promise."

The two stayed like that for a while and suddenly the idea of maturing did not seem so wholly frightening to Emma. At least she would have her best friend there to guide her through any troubles she might have and still be able to laugh with her.

"But really," she finally said mischievously, "how long will it be before the wedding bells start ringing." It was the only scowl she had ever received that was followed by such friendly laughter…

So Mr. Knightley was her friend, her brother. Emma stared at the drawing, attempting to force the impression onto the drawing. But even with such a pleasant memory to enforce it the idea would not enter those imperfect lines. It was frustrating, and with the memory alive in her heart, Emma once again felt those bittersweet pangs that had been haunting her ever since…ever since when?

She shook her head as she silently left the room, gripping the sketch tightly in her hand as she did so.

A/N: So I'm back, did ya miss me? *gets faint cricket chirp in response* Well anyway, here's what you no doubt really came for, some amateur attempt at using Miss Austen's characters in a plot that she would no doubt highly disapprove of due to its lack of quality. Oh and good news for you all. I'm not working on a separate fanfiction this time so my chances of updating sooner are much higher than they were for my last two exploits. However just so you know I have a performance in about two weeks and I'm still a high schooler, just so we're clear.

No about the actual story. I wanted to create that turbulence that Emma feels when she first experiences love for Mr. Knightley. I feel as though their friendship is really unique as none of Austen's other heroines were originally so close to their heroes. (I mean Emma knew Mr. K since birth) so yeah some fun sketches of their relationship over the years. Emma will be sixteen in the next one. Well hope you're enjoying it so far. *sigh* there need to be more Emma fanfics.