AN: Hello dearies. Time for chapter 2. Because of my hectic schedule this story will probably have an update once every two weeks.

Also the main song inspiring this story is Can You feel my heart by Bring me the Horizon. I don't have a beta at the moment, so if anyone is willing to beta, I'd be ever so happy. Enjoy

Disclaimer: I don't own Once Upon a Time or its characters.


Chapter 2


It was cold out. She shivered slightly and rubbed her hands over her arms. Of course she had forgotten her coat. She cursed herself. "Smartest move of the damn day, Emma."

When she had first stepped out of her building she had not minded. In fact it had been wonderful to feel the cold air around her because her office had become too small, too stifling. So with a hurry she had taken off, needing to breathe, but of course… without her coat.

She thought she was able to handle anything life thought to throw at her. Because of the life she'd had. Apparently she was mistaken. And once again because of the kid.

When Henry had come knocking at her door six months ago and introduced himself as her son she'd been surprised, took a few deep breaths and offered him something to drink before driving him back to his adoptive mother. Who was apparently unaware of her son ever even having left his room. To say that she was less than pleased had been an understatement. It wasn't hard to imagine how she would have reacted if they had actually explained to Mrs. Mills that her son had snuck out to find his biological mother, instead of 'the capable psychologist' that would help him deal with 'recent, unpleasant affairs'.

Finding Mrs. Mills at her office the next day hadn't surprised Emma in the least, in fact she had anticipated it, and it had nothing to do with booking an appointment for little Henry Mills.

But today... Today was something she- albeit could have expected- wasn't prepared for.

He'd called her mom, gave her a rather strong hug and skipped out of her office as if he'd just discovered that he'd won a golden ticket and thus a trip to the Chocolate Factory.

She was a mom now. And to be honest, that was a more frightening thing to face than anything she'd had to go up against in her past. So, naturally, that was the time the walls of her office decided to move in on her. Finding her escape in the cold weather, aimlessly walking a few blocks, she tried to gain control of the sudden spectrum of feelings that made her want to throw up every last, nauseating one of them.

In fact, she had been so engrossed with the feeling that comes with the revelation of being a mom – as unconventionally as it was being applied now anyway- she hadn't even noticed that not only the wind had picked up, but clouds had gathered in the sky.

The downpour was quite the shocker, and it put a grimace on her face.

"Really?" she deadpanned. Today was not her day.

She took in her surroundings in search for a place to shelter from the downpour and smiled when she saw where her feet had taken her.

"The Snuggly Duckling." As unconventional as bar names can go, was quite the contradiction. The bar had often dealt with this town's law enforcement but it was still a better place to go to than 'The Rabbit Hole'. The lighting was dim; the music… dependable on the day a pleasant background noise, but it was all in all a cozy pub with the occasional crappy client – hence the brush with the law.

Flynn, the owner and part-time bartender, was a good guy. She'd helped him out when two brothers nearly decapitated him when he tried to close their tab. After that she had been welcome to as many free drinks as she liked. It was a perk that her previous job had brought with her. Even when she stopped being a bail bondsman Flynn would still slip her the occasional free drink. With that thought in her mind, because like her coat, her purse had also been left behind, she hurried out of the rain and opened the doors. She sighed in contentment as she was met with that same dim-lighted bar she fell in love with a few years ago. It was a Tuesday and only 3 pm so naturally it wasn't at all crowded. Only four other people occupied the chairs. . Good, she thought to herself, easier access to the bar.

"Well, look at what the cat dragged in." Flynn spoke up when he noticed Emma sitting down at the bar. "More like the weather. Was this even in the forecast?"

She grumbled as she gathered her wet tresses in her hands and wrung them of the excessive water. Flynn gave her a disapproving look before sliding a shot glass in her direction.

"I'll clean it up." She said and downed the shot. Instantly feeling the alcohol burn its way through her, she felt the warmth spread through her, reviving her frozen limbs. A towel was tossed in her direction, again courtesy of Flynn who was pretty much the perfect bartender. He was gifted in the art of knowing what a person needed. A dream of a bartender indeed, and that judgement was only influenced for 30% by his insane looks; an unruly mop of brown hair and those grey-green eyes that never seem to lose their intensity.

"So what brings you here?" He asked. He knew what he could ask of her. She was in fact a very closed off person, small-chat had never been her forte, especially not when it was used as a warm-up for the invasion of her personal life.

"As you can see, a change in the weather." She said drily before gulping down another shot Flynn had already poured. "Could you get me a beer?"

"Do you really want one?" he asked, surprised that she doubted his serving choice. "If I had my wish I'd take at least three more. But I still have places to be and I can't really show up three sheets in the wind now can I?" she said, giving him a curt smile as he turned to fetch her beer.


She was nursing her second beer when a presence showed up beside her.

"Heya girly…" She blinked and glanced at the man next to her. She had been so absorbed in her own thoughts that she hadn't even noticed him. Taking him in… she realized why.

"Yeah… no." Emma wasn't superficial, but when a man reeking of alcohol, thinks he has a shot when she's sober, even if he was graced with appeal it would still be no. She busied her fingers with the label of her beer bottle, she had made great progress in pealing it away, littering the bar with the small pieces of paper.

"Don't be like that girly." The man persisted and out of the corner of her eye she saw him move his hand to her thigh. In a flash she had two of his fingers bend backwards which elected a yelp from his lips and alerted the other occupants.

"Now… I don't know, nor care how much alcohol you have decided to consume but when I say no…" she said and put more pressure on his fingers making him basically fall through his knees and a little push made him stumble backwards. "I suggest you leave me alone, before I get angry."

She turned back to her beer bottle, catching a glance of an amused Flynn. She might have said goodbye to the life where she had to fight her way through every obstacle but that did not mean she had forgotten all the ways to make people hurt.

She signalled Flynn for another beer when she saw his expression of amusement change to one of discomfort. The scuffle she heard behind her indicating that the man was rather stupidly persistent.

But before she could even turn around to face the intoxicated annoyance and really put her years of knowledge into practice she heard the man yelp again and hit the floor.
"I do believe the lady said to bugger off…." She rolled her eyes as she recognized the voice.

"Ello Lass." Tempted to smile, but suppressing it she turned to her savior.

"Mr. Jones."

They had been seeing each other in their weekly session for 2 weeks now. 4 sessions in total, yet the man still had to utter a single word about his attempted suicide and it's reasons behind it. Emma had learned to be patient when it came to these matters. Some things just don't spill as well as soup. And she would wait until he was ready to talk. But when they had first met she had tried to get a read on him. Of course… that had proven to be difficult, yet she had acknowledged the hope that the man would at least mention something in relation to it.

She had been mistaken. So 4 sessions later the only thing she knew about him, was his name, his attempt and that he flirted whenever he felt that something would touch too close to home. It was a deflecting mechanism, one that had probably worked quite well over the years with other women. She was actually quite annoyed that he knew this bar, that he'd probably visit this bar quite frequently. This meant she had to find a new bar to drink at. A relation with a client should always be kept professional.

In the mean time he had taken a seat on the stool next to her and slightly turned to her. "Won't you buy me a drink?" he asked with a grin. His face was ridiculously handsome; she had noticed that from the beginning. But this had actually been the closest they'd ever been and it made her notice some details; the blue of his eyes was laced with silver, the small scar on his right cheek that was a bit darker on the side of his nose, and a little bald spot in his otherwise nicely groomed scruff.

Emma did not see harm in this observation, she always did enjoy the sight of a pretty thing.

"Now why would I do that?" she replied after her observing, sideway glance.

"Well I did just save your honour." He replied, nodding his head in the direction that the intoxicated man had stumbled.

"Well aren't you a hero…" she deadpanned and took another swig, the bored reaction made him smirk, "I could've handled that myself."

"Oh I don't doubt you could Swan. But it was the gentlemanly thing to do."

"So now you're a gentleman?" she nearly scoffed and her brow quirked in disbelief. As if to challenge him. And by the look of things, the man did love a challenge.

"My dear Swan, "he said while leaning forward, "I'm always a gentleman." He moved a bit closer, his breath tickling her cheek. "Unless asked otherwise, of course." He moved back with a wink.

She blinked twice at his proximity and the way his voice had dropped to a huskier tone. The smell of alcohol did not escape her. But that wasn't the thing that made her smirk and shake her head. She was amused, and considering the day she had… she was glad for that.

"Alright Captain Innuendo. Flynn… the savior of my honour is demanding a drink." "Now no need for resentment love." She rolled her eyes and brought her attention to her beer once more.

Flynn came towards them and slid a glass of – if her nose and eyes did not deceive her- straight rum and placed another beer bottle in front of her.
"Always the chivalrous sod aren't you Killian?"

"Part of the charm Ryder. How's the wife?"
"Visiting her parents before she bloats to the size of a whale – don't look at me like that Emma, that's a direct quote I'm using."

"You should've told me you're becoming a dad. Congratulations."

He smiled but shrugged none the less, "You really didn't seem to be in the mood". He stated which made her roll her eyes, she came to realize she had picked up that habit, and used it quite frequently, ever since meeting Killian Jones.

"Now that's just absolute bull." She answered, hoping the person next to her wouldn't be too keen on picking up on that little information. He was disturbingly observant.

"Hey Flynn." Some guys who'd entered the bar called for him and Flynn excused himself to fear his new costumers.

"So how do you know Mr. Ryder." Killian asked and she'd half the mind to ignore him. She had known the minute he sat down the conversation would slip into personal waters. Considering she wasn't in the role of therapist right now, he'd have every right to inquire about her life. Of course it was still her own choice whether or not she'd reply.

"I helped him out once. You?" He pressed the glass to his lips before glancing at her sideway, "I helped him out… once." And then he let the liquid touch his tongue. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes once more; she needed to stop doing that. When she had met Flynn he had just given up the need to add sins to his criminal chart. She had a few good ideas as to how Jones had helped out Flynn before. Sneaking another sideway glance she found that his glass was quickly returning to its original state – empty. It amazed her considering it was straight up rum and nowhere near happy hour.

The man had had some practice it seemed. And with the sideway glance she noticed – because of the different lighting- that he actually had bags underneath his eyes.

"Something interesting Swan?" she got caught.
"Just wondering."

"About my devilishly handsome looks I reckon." The tone of his voice dropped back to the one he used when flirting. He knew she had noticed his tired appearance and he knew that whatever she had been wondering would hit close to the truth.

"How have you been sleeping lately?" If he had been surprised or annoyed by that question he didn't show. He smiled in amusement. "Why Swan, is that a proposal I hear?" he waggled his brows to add mischief to his expression.

Captain Innuendo indeed. He played the part well, especially when he wanted to get a reaction out of her. But that was all it was, a played part, with so many unknown, private layers underneath. She found herself eager to work her way to them.

"Actually, "she said in a small voice, fully turning to him her knee accidentally brushing his upper thigh. "I'm wondering whether you need to alcohol to sleep, or if you're just a recreational drunk."

His grin disappeared into a grim line and if his icy look could kill, he'd frozen her with his glare. She sighed, too bold a move Swan.

"Do I appear drunk to you Miss Swan?" There was a bite to his tone. She hadn't heard him like this before, so defensive. She sighed and got out of her chair, her wet jeans not cooperating in the slightest.

"Of course not. Look Mr. Jones, whether it is to help you fall asleep or to drown your demons, I don't care. But sooner or later your demons will learn how to swim."

With that she passed him and made way to the exit where Flynn materialized next to her, an umbrella in his hand. "It's still raining."

"Thanks Flynn. Hey could you do me a favor?"

"Anything."

She smiled in gratitude, "Make sure he gets home in one piece."

"Why Emma, you care?" an amused glint struck his eyes and a chuckle escaped her.

"Whatever gave you that preposterous idea?"


She was happy about the cancellation that came in today. It meant she could go home early today and because she was still reeling from Henry's little surprise she hadn't been able to keep her thoughts with her clients. Although she had to admit that a certain blue eyed annoyance wasn't a stranger to her thoughts either. Perhaps it had been a bit too bold when she had asked him about his coping mechanisms but she had learned first-hand how alcohol could be a refuge. But whatever one was trying to hide from, it would get to you in the end.

She shook her head. She shouldn't be bothered by it. And if he was, she would probably hear it in session the next day. If and when he would show up that is.

She closed the door behind her, making sure it was locked and turned to walk to her car. The beaten up yellow bug was, unfortunately, nearing its end. But she didn't have the heart to part from it. Before she could reach it though, she felt a hand on her shoulder. On instinct she grabbed the hand, twisted around and slammed the attacker to the wall.

"BLOODY HELL Swan!"
"Mr. Jones?!" she released him instantly, taking a few steps back.

"Oh don't you Mr. Jones me lass, I'm not a bloody Aqua song. What the hell was that?!"

She didn't know whether to laugh at his pained expression as he rubbed his wrist or just be annoyed with him and kicking his behind for scaring her like that. She opted for yelling at him.

"What the hell were you thinking?"
He looked at her as if she's sprouted two heads. "This is my fault?" She should have gone with the ass-kicking.

"Of course you idiot; you don't just grab an unsuspecting person in the middle of the damn street."

He moved forward, to cuss at her no doubt, but he staggered and she had mere seconds to brace herself and hold him up to keep him from falling.

"Christ, you smell like a distillery. I'm going to kill Flynn."

"Yes what was the idea behind the babysitter anyways? "He said struggling out of her grip to stand on his own. "I'm perfectly fine." "Yet the slur in your words would suggest otherwise."

He lost his balance again, and reached out the first object he could find, to steady himself. What he didn't expect was the rather strong right hook to his jaw.

"Bloody hell!"

"I don't care how drunk you are. You keep your hand to yourself." She seethed, embarrassingly rubbing the boob where his hand had put a rather hard pressure. At the same time he leered at her while rubbing his cheek. The woman had a mean right hook.

"Where's your phone?"

"I don't have one."

He noticed an exasperated look on her face, "How can you not have a phone? EVERYONE has one."
"Well I don't."

She was about to scream in frustration. Being home early my ass.

"Just get in the car."