Emma Swan was always destined to be the greatest gymnast the world had ever seen. She had the complete package. Grace, flexibility, beauty, strength, balance, and determination. Already competing at the national level at the mere age of fifteen, she captured the hearts of those watching as well as those of the judges. She swept the competition, taking first in all the events she participated other than floor exercise. She took home bronze in that. Overnight, she became the girl from the small town to the nation's sweetheart. The graceful swan. That's what everyone called her. Everyone said she would go very far indeed.

And she might've, if it weren't for that fateful night.

She was performing at a charity performance on the uneven bars. No one knows what happened, but as she prepared to do one of the maneuvers, a triple back flip, the bar came clean off. The audience watched as their "swan" catapulted through the air from her momentum and crashed onto the floor. If only she had wings like a swan, then her screams of agony wouldn't have echoed through the room, her leg twisted at a most awkward angle as first aid providers swarmed around her. Some people blamed the attendants who had set up the uneven bars. Upon further investigation, there was evidence that the bars had been tampered with right before Emma Swan performed.

She was rushed to the hospital where it was determined that her left leg was broken in two places. There was possible additional damage to her nerves as well. While the break healed decently, the damaged nerves did not ever fully heal. A silence fell over the country's gymnastic fanatics. Everyone prayed for her return. She never did, and soon. People forgot about her as another fresh face found her way into the spotlight. Emma Swan became just another piece of gymnastic history.

Eight Years Later…

He hears the pounding on his door but he doesn't stand up. His head feels like it's about to split open. He groans out, "Go away!" The knocking persists. Damn. Whichever idiot was outside needed to stop being so loud. He clutches a flask in his left hand and stumbles to the door, only tripping over a trashcan on the way there. It's an improvement from last time when he knocked over his bookshelf. Flimsy, useless piece of thing. He flings it open and snarls, "What the hell do you want?" The alcohol is obvious in his breath. Sour and sweet at the same time. Rum.

His brother is standing there, a newspaper clutched in his hands. On the front page is a picture of a girl. She looks familiar. He lifts an eyebrow as his brother shakes the paper, "Look! Look at this! It's her Killian!"

"You'll have to be more specific Liam. This isn't one of my romantic conquests is it? Is she on the front page because she tried to murder me? I wouldn't be surprised. Most women don't take my leaving very well."

Liam rolls his eyes, "No you idiot. Look." He moves his hands away from the title, The graceful swan returns. Are her broken wings finally healed? And it hits him in the head. It's her all right. Emma Swan. The gymnast. Who fell. Who never got back up again. Until now apparently. He snatches the paper away and skims through it.

He speaks conversationally, "Well. It seems like she got the gold medal on the balance beams and…" his voice breaks a bit, "The uneven bars." His eyes darken as he remembers that day. The day he never forgave himself for.

Their father was one of the judges at the event. Even though it was a charity event, there was still a bit of competition going on. Liam had whispered in his ear, "Hey, I wonder what would happen if we just loosen the bolts a little! Come on Killian, I dare you!" He had protested at first, but then Liam persisted, "Ah come on Killy. Don't be such a wuss. There are mats for a reason." So he had done it. He had loosened the screws on the uneven bars. What Liam said made sense. There were mats all over the floor. Whoever fell wouldn't get hurt much. It was just for laughs.

Then he watched as that girl went on. Like the rest of the audience, he was spellbound by her fluid moments and twists, the strength in her body as she pulled herself up over the bar and flipped herself over. She was a sight to watch. He forgot what he had done until she was crashing to the floor, no mat under her to cushion her fall. He will never forget those screams. The way her bone was sticking out of her leg. And her tears. She was not crying because of the pain, she was crying because she knew she just lost the greatest opportunity of her life.

He swallows hard as the guilt starts building again. Just when he had started to forgive himself. He remembers her bright smile that night before she swung herself onto the bars. The way she approached them with a little bounce to her step. He looks back on the front page where there is a photo of her. She's older now obviously. Her green eyes do not glitter with a childlike innocence anymore. They are hardened, sad, but the same determination is there. Her golden locks are a shade darker than they were before. And although it's only been eight years, it seems like she's gained twenty.

He chokes out, "I want to apologize for what I did to her."

Liam gaps at him, "Are you daft? If she tells anyone we'll end up in jail."

Killian shakes his head, "I have to. We did this to her. We took away the biggest chance of her life." He points at the article, "Look. She'll be competing this weekend. It's just two hours away. We'll go in, find her, apologize, and then leave."

Liam mutters, "If she doesn't call the police. Fine, I'll come with you." He sounds indifferent, but his eyes are glazed with the same guilt that Killian feels. One he will hopefully be able to let go once he faces Emma Swan.