AN: So. Hi. It's been a while. And if you're wondering, yes, this is a good part of the reason why Weather Permitting hasn't updated. There's a list of other factors as well, but we'll not get into those now because that's not why we're here. We're here for Break & Burn which I'm a little bit a lot in love with, so I really hope you enjoy this - I've been lovingly slaving away at it for ages. Also, apologies for not immediately delivering on the Rated M promise. Soon.
Few things existed in the world that Emma felt could compare with flying, but the rush of anticipation that surged through her when the clouds broke, and she had her first view of the isle of Britain was certainly one of them. If Emma thought she was excited during take-off, then she wasn't aware of a word existing in the English language for how she was feeling now.
It was all green, and rolling hills, and rows of houses and everything she had ever been promised the island to look like. And it was all hers. She wasn't just there for quick vacation and stamp in her passport – she was coming to live in this land that looked like it fell out of a story book.
Some may have resented frequent moves growing up, Emma had certainly been obstinate about it several times, but right now she loved it. Never had she been more grateful for the opportunities provided by her parents' diplomatic careers. She'd dreamed of coming to England for as long as she could remember knowing there was an England to come to.
De-boarding, customs, and baggage claim went by in a blur and before Emma knew it she was in the backseat of a Volvo station wagon staring out the window, mesmerized – she couldn't help but beam at the cloudy sky, and every tree, every road sign – while Mary Margaret, her mother, comforted David as he freaked out about driving on the wrong side of the road.
"Yes, Emma. I know it's there – I'm trying not to hit it," her father said the fifth time she pointed out a double decker bus.
"Em honey, could you try not to distract your father while he's putting all his focus into not killing us?" her mom added.
"Right. Sorry, Dad," Emma said, already distracted and internally screaming with joy once again by the sights coming into view.
David was relieved when they finally pulled in front of their new home. Emma was a little sad that for the moment her sightseeing was at an end, but far too excited to explore the new house to stay displeased for any longer than an instant. She tore through the door just like a little kid tore through presents on Christmas morning.
Emma bolted up the stairs and darted about the semi-furnished rooms, debating which to claim as hers. While the master bedroom would of course be her parents', that still left a few options for her to pick from. She chose a room at the back of the house. Not only would it be quiet, but it was loaded with built-in bookshelves.
She wove around her parents to get down the stairs and into the room temporarily housing the boxes of possessions they'd sent ahead of them. She grabbed as many boxes as she could carry, hauled them up to her new room and began rummaging through them. Emma had never been particularly sentimental, and usually chose to donate most of her things between moves, which made the dreaded unpacking much easier. There were of course some things she always kept not least of all was her collection of books. As fantastically commonplace as it sounded, Emma had always felt a special connection to the stories she found bound between pages, fairytales especially. She began meticulously organizing her books, and soon lost herself in the task. Tolkien next to Rowling, Westerfeld and Johnson next to Green and Riggs… She was so absorbed in the placement of her collection of Barnes and Noble leather-bound classics she didn't even notice her mother coming in.
"Of course you put away your books before making your bed."
"Absolutely. Sheets and comforters don't contain the non-renewable resource of hope like my beloved tomes," Emma said grinning. It was her mother who had gotten her addicted to books for that very reason in the first place.
"You say that now – wait until you start attending university. Anyway, I came to ask if you wanted help with anything."
"Um," Emma said, licking her lips nervously, "you could make my bed…" She batted her eyelashes as extra appeasement.
"Seventeen years old, and it is the one thing you refuse to do…" Mary Margaret said, digging through a box to grab the flat sheet.
Despite the time and effort devoted to making her room looked lived in, Emma didn't have all that long to become especially familiar with their new residence, as her father reminded her at dinner.
"So, we're finally here and summer's coming to an end. Are you looking forward to starting school in a few weeks? Or are you getting cold feet at all?"
"Are you kidding?" she said, stuffing a forkful of penne in her mouth. She swallowed and continued, "I'm living the dream! Not only is it so Hogwarts – I mean, boarding school in England, come on – but practically every graduate goes on to Oxford or Cambridge or otherwise becomes wildly successful. I remain as enthralled as when you first told me we were coming, despite the mass amount of pressure I have just realized..."
"I wouldn't be worried about that," her mother chimed in, "you've always been top of your class. And they wouldn't have accepted you if they didn't think you belonged."
Belonging.
What an interesting concept. It was the one thing Emma had always lacked due to moving around, a sense of belonging anywhere. It had never bothered her before, but something about that line from her mom kept ringing in the back of her head throughout the evening, oddly excited by the notion of potentially belonging to this island nation.
Two weeks flew by, and most of her things were packed back up, loaded into the car, and she was off to the prestigious Walden Preparatory School. Emma was always up for any sort of adventure, and was bursting at the seams with excitement for this latest undertaking.
After a fairly long drive (at least for British standards), David pulled through wrought iron gates onto a gravel driveway and up a hill. Emma's jaw dropped as the castle-esque academy came into view. Her father looked over her shoulder to cast her a grin as he followed the signs ushering them and the other cars of arriving students towards the dorms to park before heading over to the check-in tables.
"What do you think, Emma? Will it do?" he teased.
"Will it do?" Emma repeated, mouth still agape as she got out of the car, breathing in the Walden air for the first time. "It's even better than the pictures – and I had trouble believing those were real!"
"Oh dear. Mary Margaret, I don't think she likes it."
"What a pity," her mother sighed, continuing the jest. "I suppose we best turn around now."
Emma rolled her eyes as she grabbed both her parents' arms, dragging them after her as she plowed toward the line of her new classmates checking in.
After signing in and getting her student ID, schedule – heh, "shed-yool" – and room key, Emma followed the directions she'd been given and found her room. By the third trip from the car, Emma had the route down. The Swans got to unpacking, again, before hearing a knock at her door. Emma turned and saw a tall, leggy brunette standing in her open doorway. "Hi! You must be Emma Swan. I'm Ruby! I'm a prefect – Senior Prefect, actually –sort of like an RA? I was asked to make sure you settle in alright, and show you around."
Emma gave her a smile. "It's nice to meet you Ruby. This is my mom, Mary Margaret-" Ruby crossed the room to shake the hand of the woman with a pixie cut, and then turned to repeat the action with the sandy-blond man, "-and my dad, David."
"I was going to ask if you wanted any help unpacking, but you seem to have it pretty well under control."
"Yeah, to the point where there's really nothing else for us to do," David noted, a slightly wistful smile on his face.
A teary goodbye on the part of Mary Margaret ensued, and following promises to call and work hard her parents were gone.
"Oh! Here's your welcome package, by the way," Ruby said, extending her arm, a bag hanging from her fingers. "Don't get your hopes up too high," she chimed as Emma took it, and began looking through. "It's just some pencils, and a map, and a list of clubs. That sorta stuff. There is a Crunchie bar in there though!"
"Crunchie?" Emma asked, pulling out the gold-foil wrapped candy bar. "Is it anything like a Crunch bar?"
"Do you not have these across the pond? Oh you poor things. It's chocolate covered honeycomb."
Emma scrunched her face. "Like. Just pulled out of the hive? Doesn't sound very shelf stable…"
"Oh no no no. It's not actual honeycomb. It's cinder toffee. My granny makes it sometimes. It's caramel with bicarb of soda. Nothing weird, promise."
Emma took a tentative bite, before nodding. "So much better than a Crunch bar." She quickly polished off the rest of the confection. "So what exactly do you do as a prefect?" Emma asked, licking her lips as she kicked her suitcase under her bed. "I mean, besides pimp out excellent chocolate bars."
"Oh, real exciting stuff you know – though the chocolate is the highlight of the job. I yell at people for playing music too loudly, make sure you're not keeping any contraband items like candles in your room."
"Heaven forbid!" Emma laughed. "Sounds like a fair bit of work."
"Looks good on your CV though. And it's nothing I'm not familiar with. See, Granny runs a bed and breakfast in the Cotswolds'. I help out when I'm home for the summer. You and your parents should totally come visit sometime."
"That sounds great. Well, I'm as settled into my room as I care to be for the moment. Care to give me that tour now?"
"Absolutely! Follow me." She got up from Emma's desk chair and stepped out the door into the hall. "This is the residence hall, obviously…"
The tour proceeded as one would expect, with the brunette showing the blonde around campus, but with the unanticipated bonus of two girls genuinely bonding. In addition to asking Emma all about America and why she chose Walden, Ruby made sure to add some commentary that definitely wasn't sanctioned by the staff for the official tour.
"…and over here is where Katherine Goldblum broke the drinking fountain last year, and ended up completely soaking this guy, Frederick. It was an accident, or so she says, but everyone knew she'd been mad on him for ages, and was definitely not complaining when he pulled off his shirt."
"How did poor Fred feel about that?" Emma asked between giggles.
"That's the funny thing," Ruby said as she continued down the hall and ushered Emma through a set of double doors, "apparently it was a really good flirting technique because they've been dating ever since. But now I welcome you to our dining hall. The food is pretty good, but, suffice it to say, it's not long before I yearn for Granny's lasagne."
"And I'd guess if something sounds too good to be true it probably is?" seeing Ruby's eyes first flicker briefly back the way they'd come as a cue that something was coming, Emma acknowledged the caf door opening behind her and other people coming inside.
"Pretty much," Ruby answered over the din of the new voices. "In the off chance you hear something exotic or like they're trying too hard, in all likelihood you should pick something else. But your standard fare like sandwiches and pasta are always safe options. And of course fish and chips."
"So the prospect of scoring a sushi buffet is pretty low then?" Emma joked.
Before Ruby could confirm she would definitely bet against those odds, a voice broke in from behind them. "Oh sodding hell. An American. I pray you're not as ignorant as the stereotypes make you out to be."
"The fact that you're making conclusions about me before I've said a single word to you implies that you're the ignorant one," Emma spat back as she whipped around to face the owner of instigating comment. She was not prepared for the tall, dark and handsome sex god she was confronted with. He was even unfairly armed with deep-blue eyes, and just the right amount of scruff. And now that she thought about it, that wasn't an English accent he was sporting, but Irish. Crap.
"Hmm. The Yank has got some fight in her," he drawled while looking over his shoulder at the group who'd come in with him, stepping far too close to her. "I believe I see how the west was won." Invading her personal space even further, he pulled a section of hair out of her collar. Emma quickly smacked his hand away. "Ooh – more than some. Breaking you in is going to be fun," he arched his eyebrows and widened his eyes in a manner Emma couldn't help but find…unnerving was the adjective she settled on.
"'Breaking me in'? 'Fun'?" Emma stared at him. "Just who the hell do you think you are, anyways?"
"Where are my manners – we haven't been introduced. The name's Killian Jones. And you are?"
"Emma. Swan." She pulled herself up a little straighter, wanting nothing more than to look down her nose at him, though failing miserably as he was considerably taller.
"Ah, well, Miss Swan, let me tell you things how work. If this school's student population were the crew of a ship, I'd be the captain, so I'd recommend you learn to show me some respect."
She scoffed. "Sounds like that is the last thing you're going to get from me."
He ran his tongue along his teeth, taking in this little spitfire who was clearly far too headstrong for her own good. "So sure of yourself, aren't you? I'm afraid I'm going to have to put you in your place." Already able to tell it would wound her dearly not to get in the last word, he turned on his heel, leaving her and the prefect in the dining hall.
"Who was that?" Emma asked Ruby as her assailant and his entourage walked away.
"Killian Jones: son of a lord. Or earl, or something. Unfathomably rich, devilishly handsome, teacher's pet in every subject, and star and captain of the football team. Not someone you want to cross."
Emma drew in a breath. "I'm going to hazard a guess that I just did."
"Yes indeed. It was nice knowing you."
"Please. I know his type. I can handle him."