A/N: Well, here's the next part. Initially, I thought this was going to be a one-shot, then it went up to three, then five ... and now I just don't even know. It's becoming quite it's own thing at this point, and I have no idea how many chapters it's going to take me to get to the endpoint I have in mind. So anyway, I hope, if you're reading this, you'll enjoy the ride as much as I am enjoying writing this.

For the couple of people who have expressed curiosity about Emma's dreams in this fic ... they have something to do with a later point in the story, but at this point, I'm using them as a way to sort of tie the show canon into this AU. Stay tuned there, though ... ;)

Two
On Earth as it is in Heaven ...

Hatred stirs up strife, but love covers all offenses.

Proverbs 10:12

"One or the other, Swan, I can't give you both." Her boss' tone was firm, but not unkind, and his eyes held a sparkle of good nature that Emma had come to know well over the past couple of years.

The Lonely Huntsman Grill and Bar had been Emma's place of employment for the past two years. The owner-slash-manager, Graham Humbert, had been kind to her, and had given her a job when everyone else took one look at her and her background and all but laughed in her face. Not Graham, though. He'd been a good friend, or he'd tried to be, but Emma had a hard time letting people in. Even the nice ones.

Especially the nice ones.

Emma sighed heavily, frowning in discontent as she leaned on the bar. "Why not?" she implored. "I can work the lunch shift on Wednesday, but I gotta be off by four, and I never ask for time off."

"Except for the fact that you also want Saturday off. All day," Graham pointed out in deadpan.

"It's the one day I get to see my kid this month!" Emma protested.

"And I understand that, and I'm more than happy to have Ruby cover your shift Saturday. But Wednesday ... " He looked at her closely. "I thought you were done with whatever you had going on on Wednesday nights."

Emma shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, well, it came back up," she mumbled almost incoherently.

"You totally met someone didn't you?" Ruby's voice now, from behind her. Emma sighed again before turning around to face her co-worker and sort-of friend.

"I didn't!" she protested, maybe a little too quickly.

"Uh-huh," Ruby said, with a knowing wink at Graham. "I know that face, that's the 'I've got my eyes on someone' face."

"Did you meet someone?" Graham asked, his expression suddenly earnest.

Emma rolled her eyes. "No!" she repeated adamantly. "There is no somebody, I just have a thing I have to do on Wednesday nights and I need it off."

"A thing to do?" Ruby teased. "That what we're calling it these days?"

"Stop helping," Emma snapped, narrowing her eyes at the brunette. She turned back to Graham. "There's no guy, there's nothing shady or sketchy going on, I just really need Wednesday night off. That's all."

"And all day Saturday," he reminded her.

"Well, yeah, but ... come on, you're really gonna deny me the chance to see my kid?"

"No, no I'm not," Graham said. "But you have to work Wednesday, Emma, I'm sorry."

He didn't really sound all that sorry, and Emma had to wonder about that ... had what Ruby said gotten to him? He'd made it no secret that he cared about her, but Emma wasn't about to jeopardize a friendship - and the one job she'd been able to find - by getting involved with her boss. She didn't even really think about him like that. Sure he was handsome and sweet and he'd been good to her ... but it was going to take more than that to make Emma Swan want to open up her heart that wide again to anyone else.

"Graham, please," she said then, one last-ditch effort to salvage this thing. "It's for my kid, okay? It's something I gotta do for him."

Graham sighed heavily. "I can try and have you out of here by eight, does that work?" he said after a long moment of contemplation.

The meetings were usually about half-over by eight ... but that was better than not showing up at all. She really didn't want to run the risk of Kil - Father Jones, she corrected herself quickly - showing back up at her apartment again.

That had been a little too weird, even for her.

Though the idea of seeing him again at all filled her with its own sort of dread. There was something very disconcerting about meeting, in the flesh, someone who was the very image of someone you'd been dreaming about for as long as you could remember. She'd chalk it down as an extreme coincidence, but she didn't really believe in coincidences ... not like that.

Honestly the wiser idea would be to avoid the meetings and just refuse to answer the door if he came knocking. It's what she should do. But Emma Swan had never been very good at doing the things she should. And she'd be lying if she said she wasn't ... intrigued by him. To say the least. Drawn to him, if she was being honest. There was something there, something she just hadn't felt with anyone before, and she was just stupid enough, just glutton for punishment enough, to want to figure out what it was.

"Emma?" Graham's voice brought her back to the present then and her head snapped up.

"What? I'm sorry, did you say something?"

He gave her a look. "I said I could try to have you out of here by eight on Wednesday, does that work?" he repeated, slowly.

Emma made a face. "Oh, right," she said then, nodding. "I suppose if it's the best that can be done, it'll have to do."

"That's very kind of you," Graham said dryly.

Emma shrugged. "You act like I asked for the entire month off," she muttered irritably as she moved around the corner of the bar, grabbing her apron off the corner and tying it around her waist as she went. "You know I don't plan on being here forever, right?" she asked him. "Whatever are you going to do when I leave?"

Graham looked like he wanted to say something, he opened his mouth as if to speak, but closed it just as quickly, shaking his head. "Get to work," he said then, nodding in the direction of one of the corner booths. "Table eight needs busing."

He was definitely irritated, and for a minute, Emma considered pressing him about it, seeing if he'd talk to her. But then she realized that she might not actually want to know. All it would do would be to add another layer of guilt on her, and she already had plenty of that.

He thought he knew her, but there were things that she wouldn't share with anyone. She knew the kind of man Graham was, he still believed in his own personal, happily-ever after, and he deserved it, more than just about anyone she knew.

But it wasn't her. Emma couldn't offer happily-ever-after to anyone.

Least of all herself.

She should have known that it was going to be a bad day by the dream she had Tuesday night.

He was there again ... it was the first time she'd seen him in her dreams - the dashing pirate version, anyway - since she'd met him in reality. But this time, in the dream, he wasn't alone. She was with him. Or at least, someone who might've been her in another life. The dreams never made much sense to her, they were just objects and flashes and faces and feelings.

There were clouds in this dream, which was strange, because usually she dreamt of the water when she dreamt of her pirate, but not this time. This time they seemed to be ... climbing. She couldn't tell what, but she knew, from the feelings invoked in the dream, that this was the beginning of something. The first chapter of a story ... the first step of a journey ...

But there was a shadow in the corner of her thoughts, ever-looming over the dream, no matter how bright the day seemed to be. The shadow promised that whatever the journey, whatever the story ... it would not be an easy one.

The moment she awoke, she reached, almost blindly, for her sketchpad and pencil that she kept by her bed, quickly sketching out the barest memories from the dream ... the climb, and him ... and him with her. She'd never been with him before in the dreams. She could only assume it meant something was changing.

But would it be a change for good or bad? Dreaming of him had heralded so many things in her life, things that had changed her life. Was he a portent of doom for things yet to come?

Or was he leading her to salvation?

She fell asleep again with the sketchpad still in her fingers, and she didn't dream at all this time.

She really shouldn't have been surprised when Wednesday became the day from hell. Graham was in a bad mood the entire time she was there, and Emma just was not in the mood to deal with it, especially considering how busy they were. Busier than they should've been on a Wednesday night, that was for sure. Emma spent far too long getting talked down to by the customers, and berated when the kitchen messed up orders, and shew as about read to snap by eight o'clock. The only thing keeping her going was knowing that she would be leaving soon. She had never looked forward to the stupid meetings before ... but she was looking forward to tonight, though she would have denied it had anyone asked.

Again, she really shouldn't have been surprised when that fell through for her, too. Ashley was supposed to be in at eight to relieve Emma and finish out her shift, but by 8:30, she still wasn't there.

It was close to nine when one customer, far too drunk for as early in the evening as it was, spilled his beer all down the front of Emma. She closed her eyes and counted to ten, trying her best to breathe deeply. Ruby walked past her at just that moment, and Emma grabbed her by the arm. "I'm leaving," she said in a very quiet, very even voice. "I was supposed to be out of here an hour ago, I've already missed my ... appointment and at this point, I don't even care if I get fired."

"Go," Ruby said with a sympathetic smile. "I got it covered, and Ashley just walked in. Get out of here. Maybe you can still salvage your ... appointment." She gave Emma a knowing look.

Emma sighed. "For the last time, it is not that kind of appointment," she muttered under her breath, setting her tray down on the corner of the bar and moving to the back room, taking off her apron as she left. Graham barely acknowledged her as she left, and that was fine, whatever wwas up his butt was his problem, not hers.

She caught a cab and started to give the driver the address to the meeting, before she realized that she looked and smelled like someone who'd been working in a bar for the past eight hours. She knew it shouldn't matter, but it did, to her. She sank back in the seat and gave the driver her own address instead.

As soon as she was inside, she kicked off her shoes, sighing heavily at the relief that followed. Her legs were aching from being on her feet all day, and she smelled like a frigging brewery. There was a time, not that long ago, that days like today wouldn't have even fazed her ... she wouldn't have been lucid enough to even register what was happening. She supposed going through life bright-eyed and clear-minded was preferable ... but God, sometimes it really sucked.

It was probably for the better, though. The more she thought about it, the more she was able to convince herself of the fact. She hadn't gone to the meeting, like she'd said she would, which meant she really couldn't just show back up next week without looking stupid. With any luck, Kil - Father Jones - would just write her off as a lost cause, and he wouldn't bother with her any more. Just like everyone else in her life.

She preferred it that way.

At least, that's what she told herself, before her mind wandered, and she couldn't help but think on what would become of her dreams. She'd dreamed of him long before she knew him ... she supposed there was no reason to think they'd stop now. Though it would be different ... she knew he was a real person, someone who really existed in the same world as her. He wasn't just some dream she kept having.

It would be better if he was.

Emma sighed, shaking her head as if to dislodge the troublesome thoughts. It was over, it was done with. She wasn't going to see him again, and that was that. Whatever kindness he had shown her the other night would have to be just that ... one night's kindness in her otherwise miserable existence. Whatever he'd stirred in her then would just have to be locked up tight once more. It didn't matter, nor should it.

"He's a priest, for God's sake," she berated herself as she tossed her beer-stained shirt into her hamper and pulled her hair out of its messy ponytail, making her way to the bathroom to get the remnants of a night at the Huntsman off of her. She dialed her cell phone on the way, the Chinese place she had on speed dial, and placed an order to be delivered. She had thirty minutes, more than enough time to shower and pull on her sweats and find something mindless to watch on TV for the rest of the night.

She had barely pulled on her sweats and oversized sweatshirt, and was in the midst of winding her damp hair up in a bun on top of her head, when there was a knock at her door. She looked at the clock. "Fast tonight," she muttered, grabbing her wallet off the small table in her entry way and throwing the deadbolt off the door, pulling it open.

Her eyes widened. "You're not Chinese," she said stupidly.

"Very astute, lass," the man she'd thought she wouldn't see again said, peering over her shoulder into her apartment. "The least you could do would be to let me in out of the cold, seeing as you stood me up." He gave her an easy grin.

Emma looked at him incredulously. "What are you doing here?"

"Helping," he said with a shrug.

"I don't need help," she told him shortly.

"Well, you said you'd be at the meeting, and you weren't there. I was afraid something cataclysmic might've befallen you," Killian said dramatically.

Emma rolled her eyes. "Cataclysmic?" she said dryly. "Who even talks like that?"

He leaned in. "I do," he said, as though he were imparting some great secret to her.

"Well, as you can see, I'm fine," Emma said quickly, trying to dispel the little flutter she felt in her gut when he leaned in. "So thanks for stopping by, but you know ... go?"

"Manners," he chided her, that infuriating grin still on his face. It was only then when she looked at him though, that she saw the flicker of something in his eyes. Was it ... fear? What the hell did he have to be scared of?

"Right, sorry," Emma deadpanned. "Please go."

"And here I thought we were friends."

"Guess you thought wrong." Her eyes flickered to his and held for just a beat too long, and she knew it. She swallowed thickly, looking down. "I tried to be there," she muttered. "I did, I really ... really did."

Killian took a step forward then, and Emma sucked in a breath, taking a step back, her eyes darting back to his face. "Let me in," he said. "It's freezing out here, love. Let me in and I shall let you give me any excuse you like about being absent tonight."

Emma frowned, finally stepping back and to the side, opening the door wider for him to come inside. "Five minutes," she mumbled as he walked past her.

He made his way to the living room, and Emma wasn't sure how she felt about the way he acted like he owned the place already. "Why are you really here?" she asked him.

"I told you," he said, turning to face her. There was something aggravating about that damned collar he was wearing, it made it hard for her to see him as anyone but a priest. She supposed that was a good thing though. Sometimes she looked at him and ... well.

A reminder couldn't hurt.

"What did you tell me?" she asked him, crossing her arms over her chest as she looked at him.

He sighed, taking a step toward her. "I thought something had happened to you, I was wor - I was concerned."

"Well, you don't have to be," she told him, trying her best not to look at him, but finding it impossible not to. "As you can see, I'm completely fine. I tried to get the time off from work, and I was supposed to be done by eight, but my replacement didn't show up til nine." She shrugged. "Not exactly a crisis situation."

"I'm glad of it," he told her sincerely.

Emma shook her head. "Well, now that you've done your good deed for the day, you can leave." It came out shorter than she had intended it to, but him being in the room made it feel like all the oxygen was slowly being sucked out of the area.

"Is that what you want?" he asked her then, and there it was again, that nervous flicker in his too-blue-to-be-real eyes.

Emma was about to answer, though she wasn't sure what she'd been about to say, when, for the second time that evening, there was a knock at the door. "Food," she mumbled lamely, pushing past him and into the entryway. She paid the deliveryman and accepted her food from him, heading back into the living room then. She cast a glance at Killian, then to the cartons of food in her hands. She sighed heavily. She couldn't help but think of her dream from the night before ... the climb. The single step, the beginning of a journey.

Was that what this was? Did she dare to find out?

She bit her lip, contemplating her choices here. Neither of them seemed particularly brilliant ... but one of them, the one where she didn't have to spend yet another evening alone ... well, it seemed to be the better choice, in the end. It was nothing, she told herself. It was friends, sharing a meal.

Friends did that.

"Do you like Chinese?" she finally asked him, and he smiled.

To Be Continued ...