A few weeks after the rather…strange night she'd spent as a hostage, Emma found herself looking up at Caciula Manor. She hadn't been able to stop thinking about the oddly captivating, yet clearly crazy man who lived there. Before coming up here, she'd done a bit of research and hadn't been all that surprised.

Jefferson Caciula was the last living member of his family. He'd been a bright, affable child, until he suffered a psychotic break that resulted in his becoming an eccentric recluse. He'd been in and out of the psychiatric unit at the hospital, tried to kill himself at least once, but as long as he took his meds, he wasn't considered dangerous to himself.

He'd never hurt anyone but himself though…not that anyone knew. Even when he'd held her and Mary Margaret hostage, he'd only resorted to any kind of actual physical violence after she'd smacked him over the head with his telescope. Not that he hadn't deserved it, what with the drugging and forced hat making, but somehow she had the feeling he hadn't actually wanted to hurt either of them.

Which was why she felt more or less safe coming up here alone.

Everything looked as it had the last time she'd been there, save the broken window and glass littered driveway. Someone had cleaned up, making everything neat and tidy again. No one answered when she knocked on the front door and she wasn't sure if she had actually expected anyone too. Groceries were still delivered to the house every Monday, but even the girl who drove them out hadn't seen him recently.

Peering around the courtyard, her eyes were drawn to the small path that led into the dense, forested land to the left of the house. Though much of the plant life was overgrown, someone had taken the time to clear the dirt path, giving her a clear view of dark soil swirled with the red of the local clay. In one of those patches of clay she saw the impression of a boot heel, sharp and fresh, and felt compelled to follow.

It was a lovely day for a walk in the woods, unseasonably warm for May in Maine. In concession to the 80 degree temperature, Emma had neglected to wear any sort of jacket, choosing instead a single tank top. As she was her on unofficial business, she felt no need to present a professional image…though she did have her gun holstered at the small of her back.

Hey, she was looking for a crazy guy.

For ten minutes, she walked, following the path deeper and deeper into the woods. Birds chirped and a warm spring breeze ruffled the leaves. The sound of running water had been growing stronger and, as she crested a small hill, she saw why.

There was a small, probably 15 foot high waterfall that spilled into a small lake before flowing into a stream. It was a very scenic spot, secluded and serene.

A splash caught Emma's attention and she scanned the lake, eyes drawn to the center where someone had surface. She was fairly certain she'd found the man she was looking for and watched as he swam to shore.

She was about to call out to him when Jefferson abruptly stood. Her jaw dropped in surprise and the only sound she made was a squeak of…shock.

Yes, shock was what she was feeling when confronted with the sight of Jefferson, as bare as the day he was born.

The dappled sunlight filtering down through the canopy of leaves made his pale skin glow, glistening with moisture as he climbed out of the lake. Emma knew she should turn away, shield her eyes and let him know she was there, but somehow she couldn't bring herself to do that. Instead, she simply allowed herself to gaze at him.

For a crazy guy, he had a really nice body. His shoulders were strong and broad, leading down to the curve of strong biceps and triceps. Like his shoulders, Jefferson's chest was strong, with nicely defined pecs and a small spray of dark hair centered between rosy nipples. His body then tapered down to slim hips and taut, toned abdomen.

Emma's eyes skimmed along the curve of the prominent iliac crest and she caught a glimpse of a particular body part before he turned and wandered toward the waterfall, easily scrambling over rocks to reach it. With every step, his pert, perky butt shifted and the muscles in his long, lean legs bunched and relaxed.

It was like he'd jumped out of crazy land and stepped into a soft-core porno.

Not that Emma was going to complain. Since their previous encounter, she'd had a few… interesting daydreams about him. Crazy or not, the man was fine. She wondered what he would do if she unwrapped that scarf from around his neck and licked that angry scar….

"Afternoon, Sheriff!"

Oh, fuck. He'd seen her. Emma berated herself for not leaving when she'd had the chance and focused back on Jefferson, who was standing half under the waterfall, his lower body obscured by a large rock. The amused look on his face indicated that he'd caught her staring and she flushed.

She really should apologize…but she wasn't going to. Her pride rebelled against apologizing to him, especially while he was grinning impishly as though their last encounter hadn't ended with him getting kicked out a window.

Crossing her arms across her chest, she strolled toward the lake, carefully keeping her eyes locked on his face. "Adding public indecency to your list of crimes now?" she called out, glad her voice remained even.

He simply cocked his head. "I believe this is private land. Mine. And crimes? Has someone filed a complaint?"

Of course no one had, as they couldn't admit Mary Margaret had not been in jail. "You know what I'm talking about."

The smile fell from his face. "All right, I'll admit that, perhaps I went about things the wrong way the last time we met," he conceded, waving a hand in a vague gesture. "Sometime I get the social niceties wrong."

"You think?"

"Well, you're the one watching me during my swim, so…."

"Not the same thing! Peeping is in no way comparable to kidnapping…not that I was peeping! I was looking for you, to talk about…things," Emma replied, wishing she'd thought through her story beforehand. Maybe she had, but the nakedness was throwing her off.

"No," he replied blithely. "Talking leads to thinking and I don't want to think today. I need to clear my head…Everything is muddled and I need to breathe. Come back tomorrow…or have a swim. The water's invigorating!"

She'd have to be crazy to consider jumping in the lake with him.

Totally bonkers.

"I'm gonna get in the water, if you want to turn around," he teased, stepping out and sliding into the lake.

Emma didn't look away and, watching him cut through the water, stepped over to a large log and sat down to remove her boots.

It was a hot day. It was only reasonable to take a swim, regardless of the presence of the crazy hot guy.

Comments, pretty please?