"Explain to me again, why we're doing this?" Killian asked, groaning slightly when he lifted the weight.

Robin eyed him critically and this wasn't the first time he'd asked the same question since they'd walked into the room a few hours before, already running late and determined to ignore Victor's pointed complaints about their inability to stick to some kind of schedule.

"Because," Robin said, "Regina said…"

"So what you're telling me is that we're going just because Regina said we had to?"

"No, I am trying, not for the first time, mind you, to explain why we have to go uptown later on tonight. It's Eric's restaurant anyway, you're telling me you weren't planning on going uptown later on tonight?"

Killian huffed, frustration working its way into every single muscle and that couldn't have been good for the workout. He could practically hear Victor's critiques from the other side of the room – something about form and even breathing and he'd heard it all before so many times he could probably repeat it verbatim at this point.

He wasn't very good at listening to instructions.

Ever.

Which was why he wasn't particularly interested in going uptown that night for some party just because his agent told him to.

"I wasn't," Killian said, realizing a bit belatedly that he hadn't ever actually answered Robin's question.

"Weren't going to the party or weren't going uptown?"

"Take your pick."

Robin groaned and slammed down the weight in his hand and Victor was behind him in two seconds, a look on his face and frustration in that tiny crease that showed up between his eyebrows whenever one of them didn't follow the explicitly written rules and instructions of the gym.

"Stand down," Killian muttered, glancing up at Victor's reflection in the mirror. "Robin's not going to pull his arm out of his socket."

"He will if he just keeps dropping weights across my gym," Victor argued. "Come on, guys, you know how this is supposed to work. You're not even supposed to be over here either. We're a week out from camp. If one of you gets hurt doing something stupid, Arthur's going to have my head."

"Not if Regina gets mine first," Robin muttered and Victor's eyebrows practically flew off his forehead.

"What's going on?"

"Are you going tonight?"

"Of course, Ruby said she'd kill me if I didn't."

"She probably will," Killian added, grabbing another weight and ignoring Victor's grumbling when he moved again.

"It's at Eric's, I almost don't mind going."

"Why is everyone so obsessed with this restaurant? We live in New York. We're all relatively well-known, we could, in theory, get into any restaurant we wanted."

Victor made a noise in the back of his throat and Robin didn't even try and hide his disbelief and Killian rolled his eyes, putting the weight down as loudly as he possibly could.

He'd mostly done it for the reaction and it had, mostly, worked the way he wanted, but the response still managed to get under his skin and he really didn't want to go uptown later that night, even if Ariel murdered him at center ice for not showing up to some sort of surprise party at her husband's restaurant.

She'd be the first to point out that he owed her and she wasn't entirely wrong.

That was part of the problem.

Ariel wasn't a doctor, hadn't actually performed the operation that kept his hand attached to his wrist, hadn't even been there when he'd woken up, hooked up to every machine in the known world, all of them beeping and making noise and counting something that might have been his pulse, but she'd been there after.

She'd been there every day for a year, refusing to listen to him when he yelled or cursed or explained all the reasons this shouldn't have worked.

She had ignored him – completely. And she'd fixed his hand.

Or fixed it enough that he could keep playing and, as far as Killian was concerned, that was the only thing that mattered. He still had semi-functioning fingers and he could still hold a stick, even with a glove on, and if he could do that then he could do just about anything.

He owed her.

And he was going to have to go uptown later that night.

Goddamnit.

Robin glanced at him, one eyebrow raised as he sank onto the end of one of the benches in front of the mirror and his shirt was just absurdly blue – as if that somehow made it more important or more official and Killian was half a breath from diving into the deep end of some very unwanted childhood memories.

God, Liam was going to kill him. He needed to find his phone.

He snapped his head to the side, distracted slightly by the buzzing he could barely hear and that wasn't his phone.

"What are you even looking for?" Robin muttered and Killian brushed him off, hand moving through the air as he turned toward the sound completely, eyes going wide for half a moment when he noticed someone standing in the doorway.

Two someones.

"Hey Rube," Victor said, moving away from Killian and Robin for half a moment to make his way towards the media relations director and the noise that was, inevitably, her seemingly always-buzzing phone.

Killian shifted on his feet, eyes moving past Ruby as quickly as he'd noticed her, towards the woman behind her and the slightly nervous smile on her face when she shook Victor's hand. He'd never seen her before and that might have been because he'd been far too focused on getting ready for camp and leaving Colorado and lingering smiles in the back corners of his memories that were a bit more difficult to walk away from this time around.

He came back to New York a few weeks before with just one thought in his mind - winning the Cup.

It was supposed to be their year last season.

It was supposed to be the year – the one that would change everything. They'd won the President's Trophy for Christ sake and he'd played it all by the book, hadn't touched it, refused to talk about it, wouldn't even let Liam say the words out loud for fear that one of the twins would hear it and ask about it.

They were supposed to win.

They didn't.

A first-round playoff loss to the goddamn Penguins and they'd won one game and scored three goals and it didn't even matter that the Penguins went on to win the Cup, nothing made it any less painful.

They'd let people down – fans and front office bigwigs and probably a good chunk of people in Vegas who'd also believed it was the year, but mostly Killian felt like he'd let himself down and he couldn't do it anymore.

He couldn't come up short anymore. He couldn't lose anymore.

Four years ago had been tough enough, a breath away from the Cup and bringing it to Colorado and letting the twins sit in it of it or whatever they wanted, and now he was in the final year of his contract and Regina in his ear about legacy and he felt as if he was split right down the middle.

He loved New York – had always loved New York, even when he was a kid and Liam had put a stick in his hand and pushed him onto a patch of ice in Central Park and told him to figure it out – and playing here had been the dream.

Always.

It had always been what he wanted.

Until there were other things that he wanted and he couldn't seem to have both at the same time, stolen away before he even really had a chance to come up with any kind of plan for the future or what would happen when he didn't put on an absurd amount of padding on and strapped skates to his feet and hit people for money.

It was gone and she was gone and Liam was on the other side of the goddamn country.

This season was going to change everything – for Killian and that pesky future he'd been doing his best to ignore completely ever since he was certain he'd lost it.

He needed to find his phone.

Ruby's phone buzzed again and Killian rolled his eyes, drawing a laugh out of Robin and jerking him back to reality and the present. "Who's that?" Killian asked, grabbing another weight and nodding towards the woman on Ruby's side, not quite able to hear what they were saying to Victor.

"The reason you need to get uptown later tonight," Robin mumbled.

"Hmmm?"

Robin widened his eyes meaningfully and Killian turned back towards the doorway, straining to actually hear a single letter in the conversation and he nearly groaned when he heard the word schedule thrown around again.

Ruby's heels echoed behind her when she left, the other woman, who still appeared nameless – just blonde hair that actually seemed to be reflecting the light of the entire sun and green eyes that probably could have cut their way into his soul or something equally absurd – followed behind her glancing back over her shoulder quickly before she moved and Killian got half a feeling that she might have been looking at him.

Ridiculous.

That would have been ridiculous.

He didn't have time for something like that – he had a workout schedule to stick to, or pretend to stick to so Victor kept sighing dramatically whenever he walked across the gym, and a Stanley Cup to win and maybe a trade to negotiate.

And his phone.

He still needed to find his phone.

"Killian, if you don't actually put those down and go find Ariel, I'm going to kill you," Victor said sharply and Robin laughed under his breath before trying, and, failing to turn it into a cough.

"Who was that?" he repeated, hoping to get a bit more information out of Victor than the man who was supposed to be his best friend on this stupid team.

Robin's fake cough was a sigh now and he rolled his eyes so intently that his neck actually snapped back and his gaze landed on the ceiling. "I already told you."

"A name, Locksley, give me a name."

Victor made a face, glancing at Robin and Killian sank onto the floor, stretching his legs out and crossing his arms tightly over his team-provided shirt. "Look who's all interested in what's going on in the office now," Victor muttered.

"You're both insufferable, you know that."

"Who's insufferable?"

Killian glanced up, hands practically flying through the air as he pushed himself up quickly and nearly sprinted across the floor towards a visibly-stunned Will Scarlet. "What's your deal, Jones?" he asked, flinching back like Killian was going to throw him into the boards. "Aren't you supposed to be with Ariel?"

"Does everyone know my schedule?"

"She's on some kind of war path, walked by her on my way up here. She got waylaid by Ruby and some other girl."

"You didn't happen to hear that girl's name did you?" Will lowered his eyebrows and glanced at Robin, who just shook his head in response. "God, Scarlet, don't look at Locksley, just answer the question."

"What was the question?

Killian sank back onto the floor, ignoring Victor's low noise when he dragged his shirt against the otherwise spotless mirror on the wall.

Will just laughed and he should have expected this reaction. It had always been like that.

The three of them had come up together – signed by the Rangers, somehow, in the same season – Killian drafted sixth overall, an up-and-coming American talent that had seized headlines since his travel days in high school and led his college team to a National Championship the same year he heard his name called.

Robin had come via trade, bartered off for two prospects and a player to be named later and, probably some money that hadn't actually made it into the reports, and Will had been called up just two weeks after the draft, finally getting his chance and determined not to waste it.

They'd put them on the fourth line, the bottom of the barrel if there could really be a bottom of the NHL barrel, and that first season that was absolutely where they belonged. They were awful – plus-minus ratings in some metaphorical basement and barely any minutes on the ice and shifts that were over before they really began, coaches screaming and pulling hair out, metaphorically or otherwise.

It had been horrible and Liam had grumbled after every game, glaring pointedly at Killian as if somehow the fourth line's failure was, inexplicably, his fault.

It probably was.

And then the playoffs happened.

And everything changed.

He'd scored the game-winner in overtime, Wil's forecheck setting up Robin in the neutral zone and Killian was in front of the net before he realized he'd even skated there, finding open ice and a puck on his stick and he shot as quickly as he took his next breath.

It went in and they won and, suddenly, the fourth line wasn't the worst place to be anymore – especially when the fourth line, eventually, became the third line and the second and, since Arthur had shown up and changed everything , the goddamn first line and it was some sort of childhood dream come true.

Or it would be if they could win the fucking Stanley Cup.

This season. They'd do it this season.

And, this season, Scarlet's sarcastic voice wouldn't make Killian want to cross-check him into the boards.

"A name, Will," Killian sighed, "did you get a name?"

He glanced at Robin again and they both seemed to be having some of other conversation within this conversation and Killian's patience was wearing thin quicker than usual. "Nothing, man," Will answered after a few more moments, but his eyes didn't drift too far away from Robin. "I barely even said two words to Ruby before they were down the hallway and I could hear Ariel coming for you. I wasn't interested in any of that."

"Emma," Victor said suddenly and three heads snapped up at once. "Her name is Emma."

"PR?" Killian asked. "Media?"

Victor shook his head. "Community relations."

"Is that a thing?"

"It's definitely a thing."

"She'll probably plan the opening night thing," Robin said reasonably and Killian grimaced when he hit his head against the mirror he was still leaning against. The opening night thing was, without a doubt, his least favorite night of the year.

Well, no, maybe that was Casino Night.

Or anything that required him to appear in photo ops and autograph lines and smiling for cameras he wasn't particularly interested in smiling for.

He had to – part of his contract and part of the game outside the game and Regina would absolutely kill him if he didn't show up to these stupid events, but he hated them with a gusto that made everyone else on the roster laugh.

It'd be easier to get out of these things in a smaller market, easier to avoid that metaphorical and literal spotlight and he was back to square one – split down the middle between what he wanted and where he wanted to be and, mostly, he just wanted to focus on his game more and win the goddamn Stanley Cup.

"And she's the reason we have to go uptown, tonight?" Killian asked, glancing at the people who claimed to be his teammates and his friends and were, very obviously, talking about him without actually saying any words.

It's because they'd all been there when he woke up – wired up to those machines and more bruised than he'd ever been on the ice – and they knew what he'd lost in that moment and what he was fairly positive he'd never get back.

That, however, did not mean they weren't going to try.

They did – regularly.

And maybe that was why Killian wanted to avoid fan-oriented events. And parties for some new fan-oriented, community relations manager uptown later that night. It always felt like some kind of a set-up.

He wasn't interested in a set-up.

Or a lecture.

Or anything except winning.

"Well, no," Robin said, shaking his head. "The reason you have to go uptown tonight is because there's a whole list of people who will probably break your kneecaps if you don't. I don't think it has anything to do with Emma."

"Two people is hardly a whole list," Killian argued. "And neither one of them would actually break my kneecaps. That'd just make more work for them."

"Take my exaggerated point for what it's worth."

"You're going to go?"

"If I want to ever go home again, yes, I'm planning on going uptown tonight."

"Scarlet?"

Another hum of agreement and a shrug. "If Eric's cooking food, then yeah, I'm going to go. I don't care why Ruby planned the party."

"Ruby planned the party?" Killian asked sharply and he wasn't sure why that particular piece of information seemed like the most important piece of information. "Why?"

"Old friend," Victor explained. "She helped Emma get the job, apparently."

"And we're in the habit of just handing out jobs to old friends now?"

"You did."

Killian waved his hand in dismissal and Victor grumbled under his breath. "So, she's just a friend of Ruby's?"

"No."

"You're being obnoxious on purpose."

"You streaked up my mirror."

"Oh my God, answer the question." Victor eyed Robin cautiously and Killian groaned, head hitting mirror again and even Scarlet looked a bit nervous, scuffing the toe of his sneaker against the gym floor. "What? What could possibly be so bad about a community relations manager?"

"She came from the Kings," Robin muttered.

Oh. That's what could be so bad.

Killian stared at his feet and he should stand back up because he could feel three different pairs of eyes on him and he didn't feel like answering questions.

"Killian Jones," Ariel screamed, practically sprinting into the gym and those same three pairs of eyes that had been staring at him all jumped back simultaneously, practically snapping to attention. "Where the hell have you been?"

He smiled in spite of himself and he had absolutely no sense of self worth because there was practically steam coming out of Ariel's ears and, well, he was nearly half an hour late at this point.

"I've been here, Red."

"Avoiding me."

"Would I do that?"

"Absolutely."

Killian barked out a laugh, pushing himself up and ignoring Victor's quiet sounds of despair when he used the mirror as leverage. "Jeez, Jones," he sighed. "You can't just stand up like a normal person?"

"And miss the look on your face?"

"Thank God the season's about to start," Ariel muttered, smacking at his shoulder for good measure. "You are frustrating when you get stir crazy."

"I'm not going stir crazy," Killian countered. "Anxious. You been practicing taking swings? You'd get two minutes for that."

Ariel groaned, head rolling back for added effect. "You're trying to change the subject. It's not going to work."

"My hand is fine. I don't think we need to worry about anything today."

"Make a fist."

"Red."

"Do it, Jones."

Killian sighed and they were all looking at him again and he couldn't quite stop himself from making noise when he tugged his fingers together, his sharp intake of breath giving him away as quickly as the grimace on his face.

Ariel even smiled.

"That's just rude," he mumbled and she laughed loudly, shoulders shaking and hair moving and he couldn't quite bring himself to even be mad about it.

He owed her.

"I'll go, I'll go," Killian grumbled and Ariel mumbled something that sounded like of course you will as he glanced back over his shoulder. "Tell Regina I'll go so she can call off the dogs or whatever she's got planned if I blew this off."

"There were no dogs involved," Robin promised, but it didn't sound quite honest.

"Probably just tracking devices," Will mumbled and Victor laughed loud enough that Killian almost couldn't hear Ariel's vaguely impatient foot tap.

"Shut up Scarlet. Hey, A, you bringing that other friend of yours later?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Ariel said, but she was smiling and her eyebrow arched into a perfect semicircle when she glanced meaningfully in Will's direction.

"Have some pity on the poor man, Red," Killian said, nudging her shoulder and it took less than half a second for her to crack.

"Yeah, yeah, fine, she'll be there later. She's working tonight so she might be late, but I guess she's coming straight from campus, so you might want to consider wearing something that isn't team-branded later on Will."

Killian let out something that might have been a whoop or possibly another laugh and Will glared at him, but he couldn't bring himself to care – far too pleased with someone else being set-up at some sort of team-sponsored event for the first time in as long as he could possibly remember.

"Whatever," Will mumbled, grabbing the weight Killian had put down what felt like hours ago and Victor yelled, somehow, still surprised that no one was listening to his schedule or his week-before-camp rules.

"Come on, Red," Killian said, slinging his arm over Ariel's shoulder and tugging her towards the door like he wasn't a half an hour late to his physical therapy appointment and she hadn't had to come looking for him. "Let's go."


He wasn't late, technically, but he wasn't really on time either and he heard about both of those facts as soon as he walked through the door.

In the last five years – since Ariel had fixed his hand and become some sort of pillar in Killian's life – Eric's uptown restaurant had become the unofficial meeting spot of the New York Rangers and it didn't really make any sense because, technically, it was a seafood restaurant that wasn't particularly close to the Garden, but it seemed to be close enough to everyone's apartments and it was quiet and the food was good and everyone just...wound up there.

Almost every other night.

And no one bothered them, no one asked for pictures, or autographs or questioned the latest line on their Cup chances and Killian was there more than the rest of them combined, perched at the end of the bar on a stool that probably should have his name on it by this point.

Ariel called it his locker.

She thought she was hysterical.

"You're late," Regina said pointedly as soon as the door slammed shut behind him. Killian nearly jumped in the air, blinking twice to find her standing just a few feet in front of him, jacket twisted almost impossibly tight when she crossed her arms and stared at him.

"Jeez, Gina, were you just waiting for me?"

"I figured you'd come with Robin."

He probably should have come with Robin. The cab uptown at 8:15 on a Friday night was practically highway robbery and he couldn't actually bring himself to say that phrase out loud because it just made him feel old.

He should have split a cab with Robin or even with Will – already pulled into a corner with Belle who, it appeared, didn't mind his team-branded t-shirt when she was clearly able to get out of work earlier than she thought.

Killian hadn't done either because he'd spent the last twenty minutes making Facetime amends to a pair of four-year-old twins who were far more disappointed at their lack of a Candy Land partner on Friday night than he'd quite been ready for.

And he knew they were going to be upset, knew he'd have to deal with pouting and sad eyes and he still wasn't quite completely prepared for it – or Liam's inability to grab the phone out of his kid's hands quick enough when they started shouting at each other, Elsa's voice in the background as she tried to placate them just a bit.

It took longer than he thought and Killian had wound up in a cab uptown on his own, once again, feeling sorry for himself and cursing this Emma whatever her last name was and this stupid party he had to go to.

"I had some other stuff to do," he said evasively when he realized Regina was still waiting on an answer.

"Hockey stuff?"

"Gina."

"Rehab stuff?"

"Gina."

"Promotional stuff that will help make them want to sign you to a max deal with or without the Cup this season?"

"We're going to win the Cup this season," Killian said before he could stop himself and Regina smiled widely at him, like this had all been some kind of test to make him say anything except her name.

It probably had.

Jeez.

"God, Jones," Ruby muttered, taking a step towards him and Regina and eyeing them both with a look that practically announced she was coming up with some sort of plan. "You ever talk about anything that isn't the Cup?"

"No," he said immediately and Ruby laughed softly, shrugging as if she expected the answer. "Is there food yet?"

Regina groaned, but Ruby's laugh got even louder and she nodded towards the bar. "Eric's been cooking all afternoon. Between him and Mary Margaret I barely even had do a single thing before I got here."

"Mary Margaret's here?"

"Emma's best friend from college. We grew up together."

"You and the PR girl?"

"PR girl?" Ruby repeated skeptically and Killian made a face, not particularly impressed with himself either. "Come on, Jones, you're better than that."

"Victor said community relations."

"Victor listens during introductions."

"She came from LA?"

Regina made a noise and the back of her heel might have scraped across the floor when she moved towards Killian, hand half an inch away from his shoulder before she thought better of it and he appreciated that decision.

Ruby narrowed her eyes, tapping out an impatient rhythm with the toe of her shoe, and she twisted her mouth before she answered – like she was considering her options. She nodded. "She came from LA," she confirmed. "Got laid off during that whole debacle after the conference finals."

"What'd she do in LA?"

"You'd have to ask her that yourself."

"Or you can just tell me and then I can go get some food."

"You're very frustrating you know that," she sighed.

"You should meet up with Ariel, between you and her and Regina, the three of you could probably get matching t-shirts or something."

"Jackets at least," Ruby argued and he couldn't hold in the laugh if he tried, even Regina sounding like she was passably amused. She sighed again, pursing her lips and her shoulders sagged just a bit. "She did PR in LA, ran the Kings entire department and she was good at it, like, absurdly good, but then Gold came and he bought the team and shipped anyone that wasn't his out."

"And she wasn't?" Killian pressed. "One of his?"

"She's here isn't she?"

"An answer, Ruby."

She glared at him again, but Killian didn't back down and he was fairly stubborn as well – in addition to being almost perpetually late and determined to break every single one of the hockey-playing rules – and he was going to be stubborn about this.

"No," Ruby said after what felt like several hours or possibly the entire week between now and the start of camp. "She's not."

Killian hummed in approval, nodding his head as if he'd be able to do something even if she was one of Gold's, as if that made a difference about anything and his mind drifted back before he could stop himself, fingers ghosting over the back of his hand and tracing up a path of scars that, he'd been reliably informed, would never go away.

Ruby made a noise and he could feel Regina's eyes on him, gaze zeroed in on his fingers and how tightly he was squeezing his own hand and Killian took a deep breath, plastering a smile on his face that wouldn't have fooled anyone – least of all the two women in front of him.

"There's food?" he asked again and Ruby nodded towards the bar and the small crowd of people there.

He was halfway there when he heard Regina yell no alcohol and he didn't even bother glancing over his shoulder when he shouted back, "I'm not an idiot."

"That's yet to be seen," Will countered, handing him a drink and Killian didn't even question where it came from or what it was before tipping the glass back and it was water. Of course.

None of them, it appeared, were idiots.

At least not a week before camp started.

"You're an ass," Killian muttered, grabbing a handful of toothpick-stabbed food off a tray as it moved by his shoulder. "Why are you here with this ass, Belle?" he continued, glancing at the woman tucked against his linemate's side.

"Oh, come on," Belle laughed, hand falling just over the Rangers shield on Will's t-shirt. "He's not that bad."

"A glowing endorsement," Will mumbled.

Killian nodded towards the t-shirt. "I thought we talked about this. No t-shirt with team-branded nonsense on it. Where'd you even get that? Grab it out of the equipment room on your way out of the gym?"

"No, I grabbed it out my bag on my way out of the gym when I realized I'd forgotten another shirt."

"You're an NHL player, Scarlet, buy another shirt."

Will shrugged and Belle's head landed on his shoulder and it was so sweet Killian almost rolled his eyes until he realized the only reason he wanted to roll his eyes was because he was so jealous he could hardly see straight.

He heard Robin's shoes behind him before he turned around – probably something about being so in tune that they were a lock for the Cup and Killian kind of hated himself for even thinking something that ridiculous. He didn't even have alcohol to blame.

"Are we still talking about Scarlet's shirt, because it's awful," Robin muttered, drawing a very loud groan out of Will and several front-office faces turned around at the sound and this was exactly why they shouldn't mix the roster and the bigwigs who sat behind a desk. The faces turned back to their drinks and their food after a few moments and Robin quirked one eyebrow at Killian. "Look at it, that's at least rookie season old. We haven't been in a winter classic in years."

"He found it in his bag," Killian said.

"God."

Will rolled his whole head in response, neck cracking as he moved and Killian was half a moment away from a quip about getting his own round of physical therapy, but he couldn't work the insult out in time. "Where's your kid, Locksley?" he asked, arm falling around Belle's waist. "Father of the year, right here."

"Rol's home," Robin said evenly, not even blinking at the poor attempt at an insult. "And Gina's going to drive the babysitter insane because she hasn't put her phone away since we got here. She's texting the poor girl every five minutes."

"The Queen's got motherly instincts then?"

Robin glared and they were bordering dangerously close to actual insults and camp was only a week away and they might be on the same line, but no one seemed to remember allegiances when suicide sprints were involved and bodies started flying around the ice.

In the realm of relationships Killian was jealous over, he hardly expected to be jealous of Robin and Regina and the little family they'd built on the Upper East Side. And it wasn't really fair to be jealous because both Robin and Regina had been through their own obstacles, lost loves and lost spouses and a painfully adorable kid who absolutely thought that The Queen had motherly instincts.

They came to every game – and not just because Regina was the best agent in the city and Killian was in a contract year and Robin had just signed an extension – but because the New York Rangers had no bigger fan than Roland Locksley.

And seeing that kid in his dad's jersey did something very specific to Killian's heart strings, or whatever they were called, and he found, more often than not, he was on the phone or Facetime'ing Colorado as soon as he watched the whole post-game scene play out.

He was half a moment away from telling Will off and Robin looked a bit like he wanted to punch Will, but Belle smacked his chest first, fingers hitting up against the shield emblem on his ancient shirt. "Don't be an ass," she muttered.

And just like that it was fine – smiles and laughs and even Will agreed to being an ass, mumbling out an apology in Robin's general direction.

The food was good – of course the food was good – and Killian was somewhere between asking the waiter to just leave the tray and trying to remember all the reasons he shouldn't do that, because camp started in a week, when he heard Ariel shout for him.

"Killian," she called and his head snapped around quickly, eyebrows pulled up and he knew that voice. She wanted something. God, this was a set-up.

He was absolutely going to blow off their next PT appointment.

"What?" he asked, not even trying to reign in his voice and he could feel the smirk on his face, there mostly just to get her to roll her eyes. It worked.

Ariel sighed and he couldn't actually hear the sound, but he could see the movement, her shoulders heaving dramatically and when she shifted her feet he could catch a bit of blonde hair and, probably, green eyes a few feet behind her.

What was her name?

Emma?

She was wearing something different than she'd been in the hallway that afternoon – and something in the back of his mind roared to life at the idea that he actually remembered what she'd been wearing in the hallway that afternoon – red and fitted and he might have stopped breathing at some point because...he'd lost his train of thought.

And Robin was staring at him with some sort look on his face, lips parted and eyebrows pulled low and Killian actually shook his head, trying to remember where he was and maybe even who he was and, God, he was an NHL player.

He was the goddamn captain of the New York Rangers.

He didn't even know what her last name was.

And he absolutely didn't care.

Emma's eyes met his and neither one of them blinked for years and she might have rolled her shoulders back because her hair moved just a bit, or maybe that was fate and it was all just playing out the way it was supposed to.

He'd lost his mind – completely.

"Come here," Ariel continued, rolling her eyes again and he smiled even wider and he glanced back towards the small crowd around him. "I've got someone I want you to meet."

"Go," Robin said and it sounded a bit like a command. Killian nodded once and he was walking before he'd even considered the idea of moving his feet, but skating was instinctual and this felt a bit similar and that probably should have been some kind of sign.

Walking towards her felt as easy as skating and skating had always been the easiest thing in the entire world.

She didn't back up when he walked towards her, coming up closer than he'd originally intended, but he didn't pull away and she didn't blink and her dress was red and her eyes were green and that was all he saw or all he cared about.

It was absolutely a set-up.

"Killian," Ariel said. "Emma Swan. Emma, this is Killian. He's…"

"I know who he is," Emma interrupted and that caught him by surprise. He blinked once, trying to keep his fingers off his left hand or out of his hair and he knew the smile had fallen off his face for half a second as he rocked back on his feet.

" Ah, so you've heard of me?" he asked, falling back on bravado and confidence he didn't really have even in a contract year and he kept his eyes away from Ariel, certain she was rolling hers again. Instead he stuck his hand out into the small amount of space between them and waited on her to make the next move.

Emma nodded. "Kind of my job."

"Ruby mentioned something about PR."

"That was in LA. I'm strictly community relations here."

Killian nodded, lower lip jutted out just a bit and she hadn't fallen for the act at all. That was interesting – most people did. She didn't. She didn't move an inch, just stared at his face and waited for him to say something else and he didn't know what else to say. His hand was still hanging in front of them and Emma hadn't moved her arms away from her sides, drawing his gaze down to her waist and that had absolutely been a mistake.

He twisted his lips when she narrowed her eyes, as if she were suddenly realizing something, and smiled genuinely, waggling his fingers at her until she looked down. "I'm not going to check you, or anything," he laughed.

"That'd be kind of weird," Emma muttered and his laugh got louder and he vaguely noticed a woman behind her tug on another man's shirt and drag him away and they were both being set-up.

There was something to be said for even footing.

"It would be kind of weird," Killian agreed, twisting his wrist and he hadn't even realized it at first – he'd offered her his left hand.

Fuck.

Emma's eyes fell down towards the skin and the scars and he could practically feel her gaze tracing up his middle finger and tried not to gasp when he felt her hand wrap around his. Her fingers were cold.

"It's nice to meet you, Swan," Killian said, glancing up at her and Emma smiled at him and he was glad he came uptown.