No matter in which part of the world Killian Jones was, the horizon had the unmistakable power to calm him down. For the first time since arriving in the US, Killian felt that he could actually breathe, taking in the rough and salty sea air. Darkness had already fallen, but he could see the waves splash against the rocks from the glow of the streetlight.

The sound of someone falling and a female voice yelling "stop the thief" pulled him out of his piece. On the other side of the road a man dressed in black was running with a purse in hand. Without thinking Killian sprinted across the road. He was in excellent shape. Not because he went lifting at the gym, but because every time nightmares haunted his dreams he would go out and run away the bad memories until all he could feel was his body's blinding need for oxygen and not the terrible pains and longings of his heart. It was only seconds before he had caught up with the thief. He pushed him against the wall of an apartment building, right hand grabbing the purse, left arm across the thief's chest, keeping him pinned to the wall. As he did this, he realized that the thief was only a boy. All his anger left once he looked into the boys eyes. They bore the unmistakable look of someone who has been left alone. The weakening of the pressure was enough for the boy to slip away from his arm, leaving Killian with the purse in his hands.

Turning, he saw the woman who's words he'd heard moments earlier attempting to stand up. He rushed to her side, extending a hand "here, let me help you". She looked at it for a second, then grabbed it, letting him help. Once standing she got a look at her savior:

"Mr Jones."

"Student?" he acquired.

"Yes, I'm in your Thursday morning lit class. Name is Emma Swan."

"Nice to meet you Miss Swan. Now how about we get you down on that bench over there and have a look at your wound?" She gave a slight nod as he put his arm around her and help her over.

"You knee, it's hurt." Feelings of concern rushed through him as he saw blood pouring out of the hole in her jeans.

"It's fine."

"No, it's not." Killian reached for his bottle of rum, removed the cork with his teeth, lifted her leg to rest on his lap, poured the rum over the wound and tied his scarf tightly around her knee. She winced at the contact with rum, but stayed still and let him finish. He followed her eyes to his left hand, resting in his pocket. "Prosthetic", he answered to the unspoken question. She nodded and he was gratified that he did not find pity when he gazed into her eyes. He did find something else though; uneasiness at someone caring for her. Her look carried the same insecurity as the boy who had robbed her. He wondered if she could see it in him too.

In that moment she seemed to notice that her leg was still resting on his lap. She hastily removed it.

"Thank you", she said, nodding at her purse.

"No problem." The smile didn't reach his eyes.

"May I help you get home?" She tried arguing, but he wouldn't have it.

"Please, what kind of man would I be if I let an injured student walk home alone at night?"

"A normal one", she muttered, but let him help her on her feet. She didn't argue when he brought her arm over his shoulders. Despite her efforts to appear unharmed, he noticed her slight limp and whimpers of pain. It only took a few steps before she let go of her stubbornness and leaned her weight on him.

It was a ten minute walk to her dorm. Neither of them felt the need to fill the silence with pleasantries or empty conversations that would be forgotten the minute they were spoken. Somehow they were completely comfortable with each other, feeling closer than they should based on the amount time they'd spent together and the amount of things they knew about each other.

The concern in his eyes was apparent as they were saying goodbye.

"Don't worry, I'll be fine" He nodded in response.

"Goodnight Miss Swan."

"Thanks again". As he turned to leave a thought entered Emma's mind.

"Mr Jones?"

"Aye."

"What is your first name?"

"Killian" Emma couldn't help smiling.

"Well, goodnight Killian."

"Night."

Emma Swan went to bed with a new, warm feeling in her gut. A feeling that felt good and familiar despite the fact that it was caused by a man she barely knew. She fall asleep with the word "Killian" on her lips.