A/N: The overwhelming response for this story has been wonderful. Thank you to several of my followers who have continued to read my new story. And to all the new followers that have come on board for this story, welcome. I hope all of you enjoy the ride. Once again, my work is being beta'd by the lovely aimeeloren. Thank you so much for all the great work you are doing. I really appreciate it.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters. They belong to the franchise of Once Upon A Time.

Chapter 2 - She had some trouble with herself :

Emma couldn't believe the man standing across the room from her and Neal was Neal's step-father. He couldn't be any older than Neal. She was barely paying any attention to the exchange of words between the two men as she studied Milah's widower.

He wasn't as tall as she first suspected, maybe just six feet tall. He was dressed casually in a pair of dark blue jeans and a blue and white flannel shirt with a simple white tee underneath, shown off because he hadn't buttoned the last few top buttons on the plaid shirt. His black hair was mussed as if he had spent most of the day running his fingers through the thick locks. It had the makings of sex hair.

Okay, she did not need to be thinking about sex hair in relation to Neal's step-father, no matter what his age. But once again, her eyes were drawn to him. His ocean blue eyes glittered, even across the room, probably with unshed tears. She couldn't blame him, he had just lost his spouse on his one year anniversary if what Neal told her was true. He hadn't spoken to his mother in about fifteen years, despite her efforts to reconcile over the past year. Neal told Emma that for years, he had assumed his mother was dead. It wasn't until he received the first of many letters from her that he realized otherwise. That caused more dissension then was already there between Neal and his father. Emma had been shocked when Neal told her his mother had passed away and he actually wanted to come to Maine for her funeral. Not once during their drive did they discuss his parents, other than the fact that they may have to stay with Neal's father. Neal was not happy at the prospect, and from what Emma had heard about the man, she wasn't sure if she was a little scared of the man she had yet to meet.

Neal nudged her in the arm, startling her. "What?"
"Killian asked if we would like to stay here with him while we are in town," he told her.

She shrugged. She and Neal had actually hoped Killian would offer accommodations, since they didn't have the money for a hotel, and neither was looking forward to asking Neal's father for a place to stay. "Fine with me."

Neal smiled back at Killian. "Well, if she's okay with it and you are as well, we'd be happy to accept. Thanks, man."

Killian gave them both a sheepish grin. "It was your mother's house. If she was alive.." Killian seemed to choke up on the words and Emma felt compelled to rush over to offer support, but after a breath, he shoved his hands in his front pockets and regained composure. "She'd tell you that you were more than welcome."

Emma wasn't quite sure if that was true from the stories Neal had told her, but she was sure Killian was more expressing the feeling as a way of welcoming them. She knew she'd probably be the same way if their roles had been reversed. Of course, Emma knew from reading a few of the letters Milah sent that she had been well aware of the fact that Neal was a thief and had abraded him at this life's choices, so she definitely might not have been as happy to welcome into her house.

A house that looked like it could be on the cover of Better Homes and Gardens. A house in a lovely neighborhood where probably everyone in a block radius knew each other. People who didn't have to worry where their next meal was coming from and if they'd have to steal it. When Emma thought about where she wanted to live growing up in foster care, it was a house very much like this one, filled with a happy couple who would shower her with love as if she was their long-lost daughter, not just some child they picked from a long list of many at the group home.

Mentally kicking herself, Emma tried to focus back on the conversation. She had never been so lucky and now she was an adult the only way her vision would ever come true was in her dreams. Life had never been easy for her during her formative years, being passed from foster home to foster home. Half the time they were so bad she just ran away, ending up in another state and another foster care systems that let children slip easily through the cracks within the system. In a way, it was absolute irony that she stood here in this spot, not long past her eighteenth birthday. Just about twenty miles away she had been abandoned on the side of the freeway, all those years ago. She had traveled across the United States during that time only to come back to where it all started, Maine.

"Babe." Neal was waving his hand in front of her face. "Babe."

"Yeah." Emma once again shook herself out of her thoughts.

"Help me grab our stuff. Killian is going to show us to our room." Neal bent down and grabbed the little suitcase they shared and his large duffel bag.

Emma went behind the couch to retrieve her purse and backpack, but Killian was already there. He gave her a small, almost nervous, smile and handed her the purse. "Let me."

She gave him a nod of thanks and followed behind the two men upstairs. Killian guided them down a long hall, motioning off to one side indicating the bathroom. Finally, he opened a door at the end of the hall.

"Here you go, Neal. And, Emma, if you want, you can have the room across the hall or stay here with Neal. I'm not exactly sure of your arrangements." Killian walked over and opened the blinds allowing the late afternoon sun to shine in. He still had her backpack slung over his left shoulder and he didn't appear in any hurry to set it down.

"Emma and I will just stay in here. Thanks again, man. Don't want to trouble you any more than we have to." Neal plopped down on the bed after he dropped the suitcase and bag on the trunk at the end of the bed. "C'mon, babe." Neal patted the bed next to him. "After being on the road the last few days, this bed is heaven."
Emma's eyes widened in horror. What would Killian think to know that they just drove through without stopping, because they could barely afford gas for their stolen car, let alone hotels?

"Oh." Killian seemed startled. "I didn't even think that you spent all that time getting here." He dropped her backpack by the door as he headed out. "I'll let the two of you rest."

After he pulled the door closed, Emma released the breath she didn't realize she had been holding. She had always had a hard time trusting people, but there was something about Killian that made her feel guilty not revealing the truth of the situation.

"Babe? Emma?"
Emma glanced over at Neal, after she realized that she had been staring at the closed door of the bedroom. "Yeah?"

"Let's get some rest. The next few days are going to be pretty long." Emma watched him kick off his sneakers and pull his legs under the blankets.

After sleeping in the Bug for the last week, a bed was a true luxury. In Portland, they usually hung around this one crappy motel where residents didn't always close their doors when they checked out and she and Neal would get to enjoy a few hours in a real bed before housekeeping arrived. But this, this was an actual bed, in an actual house, under a roof that didn't leak. Here she could relax and rest like she hadn't done in about a decade. It would feel like heaven, if only she could convince herself to enjoy it.

Emma slowly slipped off her sweater and purse, setting them neatly atop the suitcase and then toed off her patent leather flats. Pulling the covers back slightly, Emma laid down underneath. The bed was like a cloud it was so soft. And there wasn't any of those pesky lumps that she and Neal had to fight with on the hotel mattresses. Her head settled back onto the pillow and her eyes slipped closed.

That was the last thing she remembered until she awoke some time later. It was dark out and her stomach growled. Neal was no where to be seen. However, a tray with a sandwich, a bottle of water and chips rested on the credenza. After satisfying her hunger she went in search of Neal, or if she was really honest with herself, Killian.

CSCS

Emma came into the room. His back may have been to her, but he was well aware of the lightness of the footfalls on the hardwood floor couldn't belong to Milah's son, Neal. He heard her pour some of the rum he kept on the sidebar into a glass and when he heard her approach, he turned slightly toward her.

Her blonde hair was still pulled tight into her long blonde ponytail. Her face, however, hand been cleaned of the makeup she had worn earlier. Otherwise, despite a few extra wrinkles in her skirt, she was still dressed much as she had been before.

She handed him a cut crystal glass filled half-way with the amber liquid. Her own glass held some, but it just barely covered the bottom of the glass.

He took the offered glass and saluted her with it before taking a long swallow. It burned down his throat and into his empty belly. Killian could feel a flush come over his cheeks as the liquor warmed him. He gave her sideways grin.

"Trying to get me drunk, lass? Shouldn't that be more of my line?"
"Would you?" she asked as she took a tentative sip from her own glass.

"No." Killian glanced around the room in an attempt to get his bearings. He shouldn't feel like an inexperienced teenager when he was about to bury his wife the next day. "How old are you anyway?"
"Eighteen." She shrugged as if it wasn't any big deal.

Killian reached over and removed the glass from her hand with a frown and set it upon the window ledge. The fact that the expensive crystal teetered barely registered.

"I'm not going to tell anyone that I've had anything to drink. You don't have to worry." She reached back and grasped the glass.

A soft gasp escaped her lips as his hand covered hers. He heard it as much as he could sense it. Tingles ran up his arm at the contact. He should let her go. Instead one of his fingers caressed over the back of her hand. Her skin was so soft.

"Damnit." Killian stalked off to the fireplace and drowned the rest of the liquid in his glass in one long drink.

He heard her take the glass back to the side board and set it down. "How old are you?"

He heard her question, even though it was barely more than a whisper. His mind and body were so attuned to her. This had to stop. His wife wasn't even laid to rest. His wife who he had loved deeply. "Twenty-two."

"You're younger than Neal." It was more of a statement than a question, so Killian let it go, instead lifting his glass again to his lips and discovering it empty.

They remained there in silence for several minutes. It wasn't uncomfortable, though it should have been, as they couldn't even look at each other. Killian knew next to nothing about this girl, while even with his own wife, he found many of their quiet moments uncomfortable.

Her hand descended on his shoulder and he turned to find that she had moved across the room to him. "Thank you for letting us stay here. Neal wasn't sure if you'd let us."

He tried to brush off her gratitude and her hand at the same time, more uncomfortable by her touch than her words. "It's no problem, really. Milah as Neal's mother and this was her home before it was even mine."

Killian hadn't even been sure at the time why he had offered up the invitation. It had thrown him when Neal introduced himself. The last year whenever Milah discussed her son, Killian had assumed Neal was some teenager, who had run away from his father's house. Not an adult who was older than Killian.

"I wish I had family like you," she said wistfully, causing Killian's hear to break a little.

"I don't have family. Not anymore." Killian really didn't mean to sound so cutting, but he felt horrible that she seemed to deflect it as if it was second nature.

She shrugged. "Well, if we can't be family, maybe we could just be friends. Friendless orphans like ourselves need to stick together."

Her lips curved slightly in a broken smile. If Killian had thought she was pretty before, with even a partial smile touching her lips, Killian could see that if she let the smile overtake her, she would be devastatingly beautiful. He shook his head and wished his glass would magically refill itself. He had to stop thinking like this. Killian stalked back to the sideboard. He wasn't sure if he should have another drink, or if his drinking was causing him to lose his mind. Instead, he slammed the glass down, the crystal biting into his hand.

"Hey, babe. I was wondering where you had gotten to."

Killian turned and saw Neal approaching Emma. His arm flung over her shoulders, staking his rightful claim.

"Where have you been, Neal?"
He shrugged casually. "Been a while since I've been in town, so I just thought I'd catch up with some people I haven't seen. You wouldn't have had much fun or I would've taken you along."

"Oh."

Emma didn't sound convinced and Killian couldn't blame her. "So, Neal, where were you before? Milah never said."
Neal seemed to only then realize that Killian was in the room. "Hey, Killian. Were you keeping my girl entertained?"
"No, actually, I interrupted his solitude," Emma responded.

"Whatever. Anyway, glad Killian kept you from being lonely."

Killian watched their interplay. For as much as their body language screamed a couple of young people in love, their words were laced with sarcasm and patronization, which wasn't something one would expect to hear.

"Portland."

"What?" Neal asked down to Emma confused.

"Killian asked where we were when we found out about Milah," she told him as she stepped out from under Neal's arm. "We were in Portland, Oregon."

"That was quite a drive. I'm surprised you made it here as quickly as you did." Killian had know Gold had gotten the first call about Milah's accident because she hadn't updated her contact information, but that meant Milah's ex had called Neal even before Killian received the call from the hospital apologizing for not realizing they should have told him, her current spouse, first. Frustration was nothing new to Killian in the last few days, but once again, he felt like he played second fiddle in Milah's life. He'd have to see Dr. Hopper again to ask why he was feeling like this. Milah's family had every right to know. They'd known her longer. Hell, Neal was older than he was for Christ's sake, something he never even knew until Neal showed up at his front door.

Milah's death was unraveling mysteries about her life that he had never known existed. Which made him believe he did not know the woman he married at all. He was about to bury a stranger who looked like his wife. He raked his hands through his hair. This had to stop.

Killian glanced over at the couple who were having a quiet conversation amongst themselves. It looked more like a mini argument, but Killian did not feel the need to interrupt. Instead, he quietly excused himself and left them to whatever they were discussing.