A/N: Hi friends! Dipping my toe into the cs fanfiction world because everyone else in it is so amazing with their words that I'm flailing around like a fish out of water. All that flailing made me want to join in.

I welcome reviews and criticisms with open arms.

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The Breach – 1/?

1. Adrasteia- inescapable

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If Killian was being honest, the only good thing about staff meetings was the free food. It had been seven years of teaching, and three different schools and still he was yet to find an enjoyable experience anywhere in the whole thing. Well, that was until he came to Storybrooke High School and discovered the ridiculous sweet potato puffs. Killian particularly enjoyed it when it was the Math department's turn to provide because Rem made the most amazing sweet potato curried puffs. He stole four of them before sitting down and making apologetic glances at other staff members who tried to start a conversation with him, smiling as they acknowledged that his mouth was full of food.

Not that they should be surprised - he was practically famous in his admiration for them. Last year his 'birthday cake' at work had been larger, spanakopita sized versions, with candles stuck in them. Rem had presented them on a tiered cake stand and had given Killian a confused yet humbled pat on the back.

The meetings themselves were just an endless stream of reminders about fundraising events and updates and dramas - all of which could have been found on the online staff dashboard anyway. The only part that Killian ever bothered tuning into was the welfare discussions at the end of each meetings – which kids to look out for, home situations, and truancy risks.

Nothing new in that area this week, though.

He tore the corner off another puff.

He tried to listen, honestly he did, but Robert Gold, the principal, tended to prattle on. Killian didn't really get along with him on a personal level, but he did keep things ship shape. However, he'd been droning on for well over half an hour and Killian was definitely zoning out, eating his puffs at a snail's pace to make them last.

"…and lastly, we have a new school counsellor who will be replacing Karen Zhang while she is on maternity leave on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. Emma Swan," out of the corner of his eye, Killian saw him gesture to a golden-haired shape to his left "we'll be sharing her with the middle school on the other days, but please, make sure she feels welcome."

Killian finished licking his fingers free from pastry crumbs to look at the new member of staff.

She was all blonde hair, cheekbones and a sensible shirt.

A pull heralded from his insides instantly - and it wasn't just for another sweet potato puff.

...

The next time he saw her he was reprimanding a sophomore for being disruptive in class. The kid had been trying to speak over him for the entire hour of class time and he'd sincerely had enough.

"But, Sir, it's not like history is even useful. Who cares about what some dead guy did a thousand years ago?"

"There is no point trying to sass me, Cameron. I know you know this, because I've told you a dozen times. History teaches us how to think, not what to think."

The kid just stood there looking incredibly sour.

"Not going to apologise?" Killian's question was met with silence, the shuffling of feet, and avoided glances. Sighing, Killian gave him detention for the next afternoon.

She had walked past him at that moment, smiling briefly at both Cameron and Killian, before glancing around the corridor franticly. Cameron shuffled off down the corridor, swearing under his breath and Killian hoped his recent disruptiveness was just a phase. Or at least related to some teenage crush – at least then there was the possibility his attitude would change.

"Hang on, sorry, do you know where room 107 is?" Killian turned to find Emma lightly jogging back up the corridor and looking straight at him.

"It's down by the senior study rooms, other side of the courtyard. Not near here at all."

"Oh, hell, that's right!" She started darting off again.

"Hang on, love –"

"Nope, sorry, can't – later!" waving over her shoulder she disappeared round the corner of the hall, heels clacking urgently.

...

His next encounter was equally as hurried.

He was in the front office, mid-discussion with Janet, the woman who organised the school newsletters, about the upcoming history excursion - when she appeared suddenly beside them.

"Is anyone else having trouble with their phone? I can't get a line out."

Some of the ladies in the office peered over their cubicles, while others grappled for their phone.

"No, it is working, but three of the lines are busy."

"Damn, damn, damn – Ruby, can I use your phone?"

"Of course!"

It had all happened so quickly that Killian hadn't had time to really get her attention, nor did he think it was appropriate really. So he hung around, asking the other ladies about their weeks and making general chit-chat. He didn't know why he wanted to speak to her quite so badly – it was his only free period of the day and he still had a lesson plan to prepare for tomorrow – but he did. Perhaps it was curiosity about the beast that had stirred within him when he'd first seen her.

She, however, did not hang around. After she had finished speaking desperately on the phone to a Mr White she ran straight out with a "thank you again, ladies" and a polite smile in Killian's direction before disappearing around yet another corner.

"That Emma is such a lovely young thing," piped up Liz from behind her cubicle.

The other ladies all agreed in unison.

"Pretty," stated Janet, looking poignantly at Killian.

"I believe that's my cue. Bye, ladies. Call me down tomorrow when you've got cake," wiggling his eyebrows, he sauntered out of the room.

...

It wasn't that he never saw her around. Every second day he would see her running about the office building or shuffling frazzled children and parents into her office. Occasionally, he saw her eating lunch with Mary Margaret – one of the English teachers – but always when he was rushed off his feet.

It wasn't, however, until a Wednesday three weeks later that Killian finally got her in a position for conversation.

...

For some reason, Killian's favourite class to teach was 9th grade. 9th graders were universally the most hated year – most teachers seemed to agree on that one point. They were emotionally all over the place, and just beginning to get that cocky teenage vibe that meant they thought they could get away with anything – which unfortunately often meant their homework.

However, Killian found that the US system meant that many of the kids still had that frightened 'oh my God I'm in high school' kind of look on their faces – that fear that they could get into trouble. They were still malleable little minds, in some sense.

"Sir, I've got a question?"

Killian had the class working in groups to fill out some worksheets on Perikles and classical Athens when the slightly shaky voice came from the back corner. Henry Mills, the mayor's son, was a gentle boy who rarely spoke at all in class – his grades weren't stellar, but strong – but there was something slightly wounded about him. He was definitely a student that Killian kept an eye out for. Especially, as this was a group task and he had blatantly ignored his peers to work by himself.

When he made his way over, telling a few other kids on his way to settle down, he noticed a bunch of pages hidden (not very subtly mind you) underneath the worksheet, covered in illustrations and drawings.

"I don't understand where to look for the answer to number 9."

Grabbing the sheet with the extracts on it from his table, Killian turned to the right page before giving the sheet back to him

"Try Thucydides, lad."

A knock at the classroom door got his attention. He called them to come in before he'd noticed who it was.

"I need to speak to Henry Mills, Mr Jones. He needs to bring his things."

Killian glanced at Emma Swan as she hovered awkwardly by the door to the classroom. Her loitering amused him – she had spoken the words with surety but clearly did not feel comfortable interrupting the class. He absentmindedly wondered how long she'd been working in schools.

Quickly nodding at Henry to give him the okay, he walked over to – finally – introduce himself to the new counsellor.

"So you know who I am, but you haven't even told me your name?" It came out flirtier than he had intended but her use of his name when they'd never really spoken had encouraged it out of him. Though, he knew that to find out where Henry was, she'd have seen who was teaching the class.

"You know who I am," she smiled an impatient sort of glare, but all Killian could see in that smile was a mixture of politeness and- hang on was there a hint of playfulness there somewhere?

"Killian Jones."

"Emma Swan," she accepted his extended hand and shook it firmly, trying not to look directly at him and instead she watched for Henry's movements to hurry him along.

"History teacher," he grinned lopsidedly, thankful that his class was busy chatting amongst themselves and (he hoped optimistically) actually doing their work.

"So I see," she nodded at the whiteboard behind him where the words 'Perikles + Aspasia' were written in large letters, various styles of Greek columns and love hearts drawn around it.

He chuckled a bit, "Aye, appealing to their inner teenage romantics," she scoffed at that. He decided he liked the sound – midway between a chuckle and indignation – it suited the woman he knew nothing about. "Doesn't appeal to yours?"

"My what?"

"Sense of romanticism," he dropped his voice a little lower to add a little drama to his words, "A man who treated and loved a women against social convention? A man who thought the good of his state was above personal interests? A woman who knew her own mind and gave it often?"

"Sounds a bit fanciful to me, and besides who cares what some dead people did a thousand years ago?" she was paraphrasing Cameron from the other week. Yes, definitely playful. She stopped avoiding eye contact with him and locked onto him briefly with greying green eyes. It was a steely look, but largely all he saw in it was curiosity. As brief as the moment was (or was it longer?) it was enough to encourage that beast of his to claw at him and send warmth flooding to his cheeks.

Henry stepped between them.

"Hey, kid," Emma greeted Henry with a sympathetic smile and stepped out of the doorway to lead him into the corridor, before speaking at a softer volume, "Your Mom's here."

Killian was leaning on the outside edge of the door now, and he could clearly see how Henry's face fell instantly. Henry groaned, before walking very slowly down the hallway.

"Thank you, Mr Jones," Emma said, voice diverting back to its original polite business level.

"It's Killian," smirking a little, for the hell of it.

"Bye, Mr Jones," she called over her shoulder one last time and Killian could have sworn he saw a little grin before she disappeared.

"You have 10 minutes left," Killian told his class, closing the door after him and walking back over to the white board to draw another Ionic column.

"Sir, who was that?"

"That, Ella, would be your new counsellor – Ms Swan," he grabbed a green marker and began scrawling.

"Sir, do you have a crush on Ms Swan."

"9 minutes, you have 9 minutes left to finish the worksheet."