Ok, so I'm new to this site and haven't really figured out how things work. So for any weird display issues or anything, please forgive me.

On another note, thank you for reading! The first few chapters may seem a little slow since it's mainly setting up events for later on in the story. Killian doesn't show up for a bit (about…5 or 6 chapters. Though some of the chapters are really short.). So please bear with me! This beginning is necessary for later on.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own ONCE or its characters.

[one: Drowning]

"Hey, Sarah!" Henry's cheery voice called from a table in Granny's. He waved his hand erratically over his head. Sarah laughed at the boy and waved back, her breathtaking green eyes flashing with amusement.

"Henry," she greeted, sitting next to the boy. She gave a smile to his mother, her roommate, who sat across from him. "Emma."

"Hey," Emma greeted, a tight smile on her face. Judging by her stressed posture, Henry had been trying to convince her again about Operation Cobra.

"Sarah, you believe me, don't you?" Henry asked, looking for reassurance. His eyes sparkled with hope and she could feel a guilty tug at her heart. "About the stories?" Thankfully, before she could answer, Emma stepped in.

"Henry, Sarah isn't even in your story book," she sighed, grabbing his hands across the table to command his attention. "You said so yourself." He looked at her, brow furrowed in frustration with her persistent denial.

"Just because she's not in it, doesn't mean it isn't true!" He argued. "Maybe she just wasn't an important person – no offense, Sarah." He looked at her apologetically. Sarah just smiled in understanding. "Or maybe she was from a different world! Like Wonderland!"

She was actually glad she wasn't in the book; facing the truth that she may actually have another life, one in a fairytale land that she had always thought was a mere dream, seemed like too much. She was Sarah McNealy. At 23, she worked for her Uncle Frank's bar – called 'Pirate's Bay,' a pirate themed tavern – as a serving girl while her uncle taught her the ins and outs of the business, prepping her to take over the business in the future. Uncle Frank had no children of his own since his wife had died long ago; and when Sarah's own parents had died, he took her in and had treated her as his own. However, what was strange was that everything before her 23rd birthday was a blur of memory. Yes, she could pick out memories from her childhood, but for sometimes, they all seemed to be too perfect – like someone had made them up and put them there. But as far as she was concerned, the little town of Storybrooke, Maine was all that she knew – not some enchanted forest in an old book.

"Henry," Emma sighed exasperatedly, running a hand over her face. Henry's lips were pulled into a thin line.

"It's true," he said in a determined tone, though Sarah could see a hint of disappointment in his eyes. The one person he wanted to believe in him the most, his mother, was the hardest shell for him to crack. Sarah put a hand on his head in an attempt to comfort the boy.

"I have to go back to work," Emma mumbled. "Could you take him home Sarah?"

"Sure," she agreed, sensing Henry's further disappointment. With a quick squeeze of her son's hand, Emma left the diner. Sarah turned to Henry, putting a smile on her face. "Alright, kiddo; let's get you home before your mother has my head." Henry's lips twitched into a half smile.

"She'd rather have your heart," he joked. "Don't you remember? The evil queen steals hearts." Sarah laughed light heartedly, ruffling his hair a bit.

"Yeah, let's go."

"Evangeline," a husky voice harshly yelled over cracks of thunder and lightening. A hand shook her body roughly. Sarah opened her eyes and met beautiful blue ones filled with fear and anxiety. "Love, come. We need to leave now." Sarah was confused, who was this man? But her body began moving on its own and words were leaving her mouth without her speaking.

"Why?" she had to yell over the thunder. "What's going on?" The man pulled a tunic over his muscular chest and snapped a hook onto the stub of his arm. Sarah's hand pulled the sheets off of her bare legs and got off the bed, the tunic she was wearing coming to her mid thigh. She ran to the window and looked outside, gasping at the sight. Large, menacing clouds rumbled overhead; lightening cracked across the sky. Thunder boomed loud enough to cause the ship to rumble. The ship rocked as the waves became angrier and angrier.

Suddenly the man grabbed her hand and started pulling her towards the door. Her legs hesitated, her head turned towards the window. What was this storm? Sarah felt fear bubble in her chest and it felt as if she had never experienced fear until that point. As if he could sense it, the man wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her to his side.

"Evangeline," he said, his voice firm but full of concern. Sarah's head turned to him, responding to the name. Sarah was confused; her name was not Evangeline. He sent her a warm look, a message hidden underneath. For a brief moment, Sarah felt warmth in her chest.

"I know, Killian," Sarah said automatically. Killian? Sarah was sure she didn't know a Killian. The man smiled, kissing her quickly on the forehead, before pulling her out the door into a hallway. He guided her down the dark hall, the wood groaning with the wind. Every now and then they would be tossed into the wall by the rocking of the ship. And with a big crash of thunder and the splintering of wood, water began pouring into the ship, surrounding their feet. The man looked down, concern filling his eyes, as he steadied them against the wall with his hook.

"Quickly," he commanded firmly. The water rushed around them, now reaching their knees in the matter of seconds. Sarah could hear the panic cries of men above them. They trudge through the water, seeing the opening to the deck at the end of the hall. As they continued, the water level rose until it eventually below her chin. "Take a deep breath." Sarah nodded, filling her lungs with as much oxygen as possible, before the two plunged below. The salt water stung her eyes as she reached in front of her to follow the man. And then came the part that Sarah knew so well.

They swam to the part of the ship where the wood was broken and debris littered the hall. It was like the lightening had struck the middle of the ship, breaking it in half. Sarah could never understand how or why it happened, but as the pair swam in and out of the debris, the end of her tunic was caught. She struggled to free herself and the man, upon realizing that she wasn't behind him anymore, turned to see her struggling. He began to make his way towards her and Sarah made eye contact him, knowing what came next. When he was within reach, the man's eyes widened with surprise and he was pulled in the opposite direction towards the opening. Sarah continued to tug until she was free and started to swim after him, oxygen beginning to dwindle in her lungs. Her vision began to blur and on instinct, even at her protest, her body took a breath, filling her lungs with water. Panic would take over. Sarah clawed at the water in front of her, fighting to get to the surface, but it would never come. Her body began to take huge gasps to attempt to clear the water, but it only served to do the opposite.

Sarah's chest burned, spots framed her vision, and fear had gripped every part of her soul. She was so close, her fingertips brushing the exit. But just as her fingers curled around the wood of the opening, her strength left her. Sarah felt death wrap its fingers around her soul and her vision went black.

With a gasp of breath, Sarah shot up in bed, filling her lungs over and over with air. She was tangled in her sheets, hair a mess, and no matter how many breaths she took, she couldn't seem to get enough oxygen. It was the dream – the same one she had been having since the hands of the town clock came back to life. Every night she knew it would happen, yet every night she found herself in the same situation. It was like her body thought the dream was real, believed she was actually drowning, and was following every instinct to try to get oxygen in her lungs. Her chest ached from the rapid spasms of her breathing and she could almost feel the burn in the back of her throat. She waited, sitting up with her hands on top of her head, until she caught her breath. And with a final sigh of relief, she got out of bed, feeling an urge to wash salt off her skin.