I slept like hell.

I'd lain in bed, the day's events running over and over in my mind, still unsure about how everything had happened. I felt guilty, a little nauseous, scared - oh God, what if they found out? Finally as sleep claimed me, I made a decision. I would go to the hospital in the morning and confess.

Thank God I'd been given the midday shift on Christmas Day as I completely slept through my 6am alarm and it was almost nine thirty by the time I squeezed the remnants of sleep from my eyes and slid into the shower.

After a cup of strong black coffee I wrapped myself up in my long down filled jacket prepared to face the harsh midwinter Chicago weather, though perhaps not quite as ready to face his parents. The walk to the El seemed to take forever. Snow had started to fall again, lying lazily on the damp streets before quickly fading away. My feet felt so heavy - a bit like I was a deep sea diver in one of those old fashioned leaden suits. Or perhaps I was more like a condemned prisoner on his way to his death - trying to claw the last ounce of every proceeding moment.

Before long, I was back at the hospital, staring up at the looming grey building as the streets around were eerily quiet, the usual hubbub of city life replaced by a gentle stillness that seemed at odds with the Chicago I knew. On autopilot, I made my way up to the fifth floor. It was already after eleven and my shift started at twelve. Just enough time to explain, I guessed.

When I arrived at his room I was surprised to see it empty of other visitors. I stepped in and closed the door, folding my coat over my arm as I stared at the man unconscious before me. "Hi," I whispered a little shyly, brushing my hair behind my ears, "Well I guess I should introduce myself. I'm Emma - Emma Swan." No response, of course, just the steady beat of his heart monitor. "So your family thinks we are engaged. I've never been engaged before so this is a new experience for me."

Okay, I told myself, see this wasn't so hard. Practicing on Liam had to make telling his family easier, right?

"Emma!"

I spun to my left and my heart leapt into my throat when I saw the assembled group of Liam's family - his parents Frank and Alice, Granny, his little sister Tink, and his godfather Archie.

"We didn't expect to see you here!"

"Hi," I mumbled as I was bundled into another warm hug.

"So how's Liam?" asked Alice as she walked to her son's bed.

"I think he has more color," I offered as my brain scrambled to think, ally carefully laid plans of confessions crumbling to dust around me as I saw their glowing faces.

"Oh that's right Alice, he does have more color," chipped in Granny, peering at Liam down her tiny wire-framed glasses.

As they fussed over Liam, I suddenly had the instinct to bolt. I couldn't do it - I couldn't tell them. "Um, well, it was great to see you guys but I have to go to work." As I started to pull on my coat I noticed Alice whispering in Frank's ear.

"Hey, Emma?"

"Hmm?" I responded, smiling stiffly as I looked at Frank.

"Do you have any plans for this evening? We plan on having a little Christmas get together, low key and all with Liam laid up as he is and it would be nice if you could join us."

"Oh," I began, blushing as I sought an excuse, "I would love to but can't…"

"But Killian's going to be there," chimed in Tink.

"That's right," Alice added, "You haven't met Killian."

Killian?

"No, I haven't…"

"Oh, he'll be so happy to meet you," insisted Alice, nodding knowingly.

Frank took a step closer and pulled out his wallet. Flipping it open he pulled out a card, 'Jones & Son Furniture. ' "Take our address and number. Think it over, it would be great to get to know you better."

And as my trembling fingers took the card and slid it into my pocket, I knew he meant it. These were nice people. Good people.

"Okay," I nodded, quickly excusing myself and dashing to the elevators.

I still had time to spare so I walked to work, kicking away at lumps of slushy snow as I went, slowly talking myself into the idea of spending Christmas with the Jones family.

/

I stood outside their home, shivering; a rather pathetic bunch of last minute flowers clutched in my hand, my feet dancing on the spot as I built up the courage to press the doorbell.

This was crazy. Madness. I should turn back home and get some Chinese take-out, snuggle up with Mr. Jingles and watch bad movies. I should leave. Now.

And I was going to leave. Really, I was. But then the door opened and it was Alice welcoming me with a huge smile, saying I must be freezing and pulling me inside.

/

It was nice. Really nice.

Christmas in foster care was often a haphazard affair. Wrestling over the potatoes with half a dozen other kids did not a pleasant day make. It had gotten to the point where I'd tried to avoid the holiday as much as possible, staying in my room, or when I was older, running away.

But this was what I'd always imagined a real Christmas to be like. A tall, freshly cut tree, dripping with ornaments and bolstered from beneath by a teeming tower of well wrapped presents. The air smelled like mulled wine and a CD of seasonal songs played out as I was greeted by the family.

Tink had dressed up in a little green elf outfit and was walking around with a platter of Santa cookies, the bells on her hat jingling as she walked. Granny sat in a large armchair in the corner of the living room, a glass of eggnog in her hand and a sleepy smile on her face. Frank and Alice fussed over me, offering me wine (or something stronger, Frank suggested) asking if I was too cold, or hot, how my day at work had been-

Just normal stuff.

But I loved it.

All thoughts of confessing that evening faded away as I bit back a yawn—not a tired one, but of something that felt like contentment.

/

Alice soon called us in for dinner.

We were making our way to our seats when there was a voice from the hallway. "Sorry I'm late!"

"You just made it," replied Frank who was to my left, "The prodigal son returns!"

Ah, so this was the mysterious Killian. I settled my face in a pleasant smile as I waited for Liam's brother to enter the room.

And that's when the air left my lungs.

You could tell he was his brother - same shaped eyes and jaw. But this Jones's eyes were a deep, ocean blue where his brother's were a clearer, watery shade. Liam's clean shaven face contrasted sharply with Killian's layer of stubble - deep brown, almost black, just like his mop of thick, straight hair.

Then I realized I was staring. Blushing, I pulled my napkin onto my lap.

"Killian, you'd be late to your own funeral," Granny scolded as he bent down to kiss her on the cheek.

"I think it's called fashionably late," he quipped as he gave his mother a hug and then ruffled Tink's hair, "Hey little sis - trying to make a fashion statement?"

"Har-de-har," she replied, rolling her eyes and self-consciously tugging at her pointy green hat.

He looked around the room and I saw him make a double take when his eyes landed on me. "And who do we have here?" he asked, his eyes narrowing as I felt myself burn under his gaze.

"That's Emma," Tink answered, "Liam's fiancée."

A look of confusion crossed his face as he digested the words.

"Liam's not engaged," he insisted, folding his arms.

Crap. This was my moment of truth. They were going to find out this was all a big, very weird, lie-

"Oh yes he is," barked Granny, "And she saved his life," she added, nodding before hiccoughing softly into her half-empty eggnog glass.

"If Liam were engaged, he would have told me."

I squirmed in my seat, wishing the ground would do me a favor and open up and swallow me.

"I thought the same at first," Frank replied before placing his hand over mine, making me start, "But you know Liam - he's impulsive, has his own mind. I'm sure he was going to tell us soon."

I nodded as the color drained from my face. Killian was still observing me oddly, his head a little tilted, my heart racing as I tried to look as normal as possible. Finally he nodded lightly and took his seat next to Tink.

With the spotlight finally off me, I relaxed. Just a little.

/

"So, I have to ask - how did you meet?"

At first the question threw me off guard. Meet? Who? Me?

Then I wizened up and looked over at Mrs Jones who had asked the questioned.

"Um."

I was already caught up in a big lie so I decided to just embellish the truth. "He used to come to my booth every day and slip me a token."

"And then he asked you out?" chipped in Granny.

"I guess…" I smiled, thinking back to my daydreams of him really asking me out and generally just talking to me.

"Hmph," came a snort from across the table.

"What is it Killian?" grumbled Frank as he speared a boiled potato with his fork.

"Nothing," he shrugged, taking a sip of wine with scowl on his face.

Ignoring her son, Alice pressed on, "So what was it you first noticed about him?"

"His eyes," I replied automatically, my own instantly flashing to another pair of blue eyes, though darker and more brooding. I quickly looked away.

"Oh he does have pretty eyes. Always did," sniffed Granny, still clutching her glass of egg nog, "We knew he would be a ladies man every since kindergarten when he had three girlfriends."

"Quite the ladies man," I laughed, trying to ignore the glowering look Killian seemed to be giving me.

"Quite," he echoed finishing his glass of red before reaching for the bottle to refill. "I'm sorry," he sighed, "It's just you just don't seem his type."

"Killian!" Alice scolded, before looking at me, "Liam does not have a type."

"Everyone has a type," Killian retorted, staring his mother down as he took another sip.

"So what's yours then?" Granny interupted, "Anything with a pulse?" I held back the urge to laugh at the way Killian frowned.

"I like brunettes."

"You like blondes," insisted Tink, tossing half a bread roll to her brother and rolling her eyes. Tink looked at me and winked, her hat jingling as she eyed the long, blonde pony tail that hung over my shoulder.

"Enough of this nonsense. And then what?" his mother continued.

"And then one date turned into another and before I knew it he was taking me out to dinner to propose. That was two weeks ago."

A gentle hush fellow over the table as Frank patted me sympathetically on the hand.

Damn, I was getting good at this lying thing.

"Well before you know it he will be back up on his feet and we'll be planning the biggest wedding this neighbourhood has seen in years. How do you feel about being a spring bride?"

I blushed at Alice's enthusiastic and positive outlook. In a weird sort of way it was almost like how I expected a real mother to behave and I had to mentally pinch myself to remind me that this was a woman I met just over twenty four hours ago and that as soon as her son awoke she'd surely never wanna see me again…

So a little sad, I just wanted to enjoy the moment.

I simply smiled and whispered, "Sure."

/

Somehow it got really late and Alice was making me up a bed on the couch. I mildly protested but was easily encouraged to stay the night. Truth be told I liked it in the Jones's house. It was warm, cosy and homely.

Slowly the members of the family slipped off to bed after opening presents (I got a scarf from 'Santa') and playing a few rounds of charades where we were all throughly whipped by Granny. Killian had stayed pretty quiet through the proceedings; except to give the proscribed thanks for his gifts he sat on the corner of the couch nursing what looked like a glass of rum as the rest of us talked away like old pals.

He was a puzzle to me. Working where I did, I liked to consider myself a pretty good study of character. Spending the day watching people interact gave me an insight into all the behaviours that were tells of a person's personality. But Killian was an enigma.

He seemed one moment open and friendly, and the next uptight and sarcastic. I could tell his family loved him greatly, but when he looked at me I felt a little shiver run down my spine.

Did he know?

I could hear the mantle clock chiming one am when I padded into the kitchen for a glass of water. Too much mulled wine had left me somewhat parched. The light was already on when I stepped through the doorway and there was the younger brother making a sandwich from left over ham.

"You want one?" he asked, holding up a slice of cold meat as I shook my head.

"No thanks, I just need some water."

Silently I located a glass and turned on the faucet, waiting for the water to chill before I filled my glass. Behind me I heard Killian wrapping up the rest of the ham and placing it in the refrigerator. When I turned around he was looking at me.

"Goodnight," I nodded, swallowing a nervous lump in my throat as I took a step forward.

"Emma-"

"Uhuh?"

"I think we got off on the wrong foot. I mean - I'm sorry for giving you a hard time earlier."

I shook my head and my eyes flickered closed, "It's fine. I know this whole situation sounds…"

"Unbelievable?" he offered.

"Yeah," I nodded, listening the the second hand of the clock tick, the noise echoing around the tiled kitchen. "And really, it's fine."

"Good," he smiled, letting out a sigh of relief, "I guess if we are going to be related soon then we need to be on good terms."

Related. Family.

He would be my brother in law.

For some reason that idea left a sour taste in my mouth.

"I guess," I agreed, desperate to escape to the refuge of the nest of blankets on the couch.

"Well then, welcome to the family," he said softly, looking me earnestly in the eye as he picked up his plated sandwich. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. It seemed nonsensical but I felt the strangest pull towards him. The air hung with electricity as the moment stretched heavily between us.

I knew I had to walk past him to leave the room. He didn't seem in a hurry to move himself.

"Thank you," I whispered, looking down at the checkered floor as I walked towards the door.

When I passed him, I looked back. He hadn't moved. "Goodnight," I added.

"Goodnight," he replied as I walked down the hallway.

I climbed back into my makeshift bed and tried to forget the unsettled feeling in my stomach.