Chapter 3

'Castlespire Preparatory School welcomes you to Parent-Teacher night' a yellow banner read over the front doors of the private school. Emma couldn't help but wonder what Killian Jones' face would look like when he saw her for a third time in less than a week. Her imagination could have never prepared her for the look of shear confusion and annoyance on the teacher's face. His face contorted in ways she never thought were possible. She could see his teeth clench as she opened the door to Henry's classroom.

"Ms. Swan," he greeted with a forced smile. "I didn't expect to see you again so soon."

Emma pulled up a chair and smirked. "Neither did I, but with the ex in New York, someone's gotta check in. I only wish he would have told me about this when we spoke on the phone last week."

Killian didn't understand why this woman got under his skin. She hadn't technically done anything wrong—her drunken text was just a mistake after all, but as she sat there in front of him, leaning back precariously in her chair, he couldn't help but be put off. Henry Mills was an extraordinary student with many gifts. He was well behaved, well put together and well…nothing like this Emma Swan character who had arrived late to their meeting wearing a simple leather jacket and ripped jeans, completely disregarding the fact that she was in a distinguished prep school that prided itself on its respectable comportment. Indeed, it seemed to Killian that she was the type of person to take things far too lightly and—was that gum that she was chewing? He clenched his fist.

Completely unaware of Killian's silent critique, Emma took a look around her, conducting a critique of her own. The walls were surprisingly bare for an elementary classroom. She remembered her own days at school—or rather schools as she had bounced between so many she had lost count. Those classrooms were always covered wall-to-wall in horrible student art and cheesy motivational posters, but this room looked more like a child prison—minus the bars on the windows with which she had been familiar.

"So what do you teach?" Emma asked, breaking the silence.

"You don't know?" Although he asked the question, Killian was somehow not surprised that Emma didn't know what he taught. She hadn't even known his name. Her cavalier attitude seemingly knew no bounds.

"Well Henry's father was the one to enroll him in this school. I wasn't part of the process so I don't know much about this fine establishment. To be honest, I never would have sent my son to this kind of place but it was Neal's father's advice. He owns a chain of pawn shops so he has the cash to spare, but I think he gets his money elsewhere if you know what I mean. Anyway, he thought it best to put Henry in a private school. Either to keep up appearances or to keep him away from mobsters. Who knows? Since I wasn't living with them and we have an iffy custody agreement, I didn't get much say. Don't see the kid that much so how would I know about his teachers?"

She had said this all rather quickly and rather defensively. Killian could see a look of embarrassment cross her face as she spoke. Emma hadn't wanted to divulge all that. She hadn't been one prone to verbal diarrhea. Somehow, with Killian she found herself finding the need to explain her actions and lifestyle choices.

Killian looked away as she spoke those last words. He felt the sting of them so strongly that he flushed. It was hard not to feel guilty for his thoughts before and for the condescending tone he had taken with her. He didn't take much notice to Henry's grandfather's shady past. He was more curious as to what this 'iffy custody agreement' was but decided to look past it. It was clearly a sore spot for the woman and he had already done enough damage even having her bring it up once. "English and history mostly," he stated simply and Emma was thankful that he didn't pry.

"Sounds kind of boring if you ask me, but the kid likes that kind of stuff. I was never much of a school person if you couldn't tell."

"Well you'll find, Ms. Swan, that that doesn't really matter. More often that naught, our parents just provide us with our faces, not so much our intellect. Henry, as you may already know, is a very bright child. Just the other day he—"

I like big butts and I cannot lie.

Killian jumped at the sudden interruption. He didn't have to wonder where it had come from. No sooner than the first words of 'Baby got back' had begun, Emma dug into her pocket and fished out her phone. She let her chair fall forward and held up a finger to Killian whose face began to turn red, this time with anger.

"By all means," he muttered under his breath.

They were finally making progress with their conversation. Killian had dedicated many hours to ensuring he had unique and thoughtful comments to share with parents for when this night came. Report cards, tests and samples of Henry's work had been laid out on the desk, ready to be discussed, but it was all in vain. He looked at Emma with bewilderment as she spoke in hush tones. Her face took on a variety of expressions before it finally settled on a mix of stress and panic—the first time he had ever seen her don a look of anything but mischief.

"I'm sorry Colin," Emma said as she stood up. "Last minute set change and I need to be at the bar in 10."

"It's Killian—"

"Listen I know how this looks. Like I couldn't care less about my son, but these gigs are what's paying the rent and are the only way I can still see Henry. Just, I don't know, call me? Or better yet come by The Rabbit's Hole after you're done here and we'll chat. I'll even buy you a drink."

"Ms. Swan, I don't think that's a good idea."

"No it'll be fun. I want to know all about that play Henry wrote and how he's doing in his classes. I love that kid to death, but I just can't let this gig go."

Killian dropped his head into his hands. He looked up and into Emma's pleading green eyes. She looked so desperate he couldn't help but agree. He nodded towards the door. Emma grabbed his hand with both of hers and shook it rather wildly before sprinting out the door, leaving him to wonder what he had done in his life to deserve this.

An hour later, Killian pulled up to the bar. Despite his better judgment, and with a little persuading from his girlfriend, he found himself chasing after Emma Swan yet again. When they entered the bar arm-in-arm, they instantly realized they were overdressed. Having both just come from work, their business casual attire made them stick out like a sore thumb. It seemed that there were a hundred Emma Swans around him: leather, plaid, and no sense of direction.

The couple took a spot at the bar and turned their attention to Emma's band consisting of all of three people. Behind a set of drums sat a woman with short black hair and fair skin. Her lips were blood red, as were the sticks she held in her hand. As she beat along on her drums, her eyes never wavered from the man standing next to Emma. The bass player, with golden brown hair and a studded, leather jacket that put Emma's to shame was singing back up. Between his parts, he also looked back at the woman behind him, but only briefly before returning his glance to his finger placement. His stage presence was lacking but he played well.

The real star was Emma Swan. Her outfit, that had once been so out of place only an hour earlier, now worked so perfectly in this place. Anyone could tell that she was the lead in the band. From the way she sang to the way she played, it was easy to get swept away in the performance. Killian had never been one for alternative rock music, but found himself tapping his foot to the rhythm. He couldn't stop himself if he tried. He didn't want to—a fact that surprised him as much as Emma's singing.

Unlike her character, Emma's voice was sweet and alluring. He found himself hanging on every word. If you asked him after the show what the song was about, he'd find himself unable to explain. All he knew was that he felt the song within him, as if it was an emotion and not just words strung along to a melody. She was lit up on centre stage, her golden hair shining like a halo around her and he began to forget why he was ever angry with her in the first place. He was so captured by the melody that he didn't realize his girlfriend was calling his name.

"Killian, come back down to Earth."

He blinked and took back in his surroundings. "Oh sorry, love. What did you say?"

"Do you want something to drink?"

"None for me."

"Suit yourself." She turned to the bartender. "One appletini if you can."

The bartender laughed, earning him a glare. He pulled out a glass and filled it with whiskey. "Enjoy, princess."

At that moment, the music had stopped. Killian found himself clapping along with the crowd, his eyes meeting Emma's from across the bar. She smiled and he returned it as she made her way over only to be stopped by a man who pulled her into his arms. Killian stood up, ready to make his way to her and put an end to any funny business, but the two were soon embracing. He looked away quickly as if intruding on a special moment.

Emma and the man joined the couple soon after that. "Hey, Ken. Nice of you to show up. I hope you enjoyed the show."

Killian sighed. Was she doing this on purpose now? "Well we just caught the end, but I didn't quite hate it."

"I'm glad." She gestured to the man she had just kissed. He stood a few inches taller than Killian and had a beard that put his mere shadow to shame. Emma had her hand on his back, playing absentmindedly with his curls. She beamed up at him. "This is Graham Humbert. He's my favourite groupie."

"It comes with the job as boyfriend," he laughed and picked up the beer the bartender had slid across the counter to him.

Killian took note of the badge at Graham's waist. "A cop, huh?" Killian was impressed. He found it rather unrealistic that Emma could be Emma with such an upstanding citizen as her boyfriend. Killian gestured to the woman beside him. "This is Regina Mills."

"Pleased to meet you Ms. Swan, Officer Humbert." Regina held out a hand.

Emma finally took notice of the woman in the pant suit beside Killian. Her red blouse was a bold choice, and Emma thought it was definitely a power move. Despite the look of displeasure on Regina's face, she was very pretty, and her stature made Emma think to never get into a fight with her. She shook her hand. Firm. Professional. Definitely a good match for Killian.

"And what is it you do, Regina?" Graham asked. He took a sip of his beer.

"I'm the principal at Castlespire Preparatory."

Emma's head whipped towards Killian. He was dating the principal? She didn't care much what people did in their free time, but she knew that that sort of relationship wasn't one to usually be widely accepted.

"That sounds very interesting. Isn't that where Henry goes?" Graham followed Emma's eyes to Killian. He looked between the teacher and Regina. Understanding filled his eyes. He smiled meekly. "Speaking of which, should we let Killian and Emma finish their little interview? I'd love to know more about your job."

Graham planted a kiss on Emma's head and made his way over to Regina, beer in hand. They quickly took to their own conversation, leaving Killian to shower Henry with praise about his academics. Emma was happy to hear her son was doing so well. She had no idea. Report cards and progress reports were never sent her way. She doubted the school even had her number on file.

Emma found that in this casual setting, it was much easier to be around Killian. Despite not having had a single drink, he had begun to speak more freely, and the tension that often radiated through his body seemed to have disappeared. She was about to apologize for dragging Killian along in her mess of a life when she heard a crash behind her.

"David!" a female voice screamed.

She spun around to see a crowd forming near the stage. Mary Margaret jumped off the stage to where her boyfriend, David, had just fallen. Emma ran over and pushed her way through the throng of drunken bikers. Once at the front she saw a man was helping him up. She noticed David holding his wrist, a grimace on his face.

"What happened?" she asked. She took David from the man and guided him to a chair.

"David was trying to carry the amp without any help, like an idiot," replied Mary Margaret. "He tripped over the cord."

"I'm fine," David sputtered.

"Don't be stupid," his girlfriend barked. "Look at your hand. It's all twisted up."

Emma looked closer to see that his wrist was bent out of shape. Her stomach flipped. Horror movies were one thing, but seeing a broken wrist in real life was another. Luckily Graham had noticed the commotion and came by, blocking her line of sight to the injury. He pulled out his phone and called 9-1-1.

When the ambulance finally came, Emma was left standing at the curb with Killian and Regina. Mary Margaret had decided to ride with David to the hospital and Graham was inside talking with the bar's patrons to see if there were any signs of foul play. Even though it was clear what had happened, Graham always covered all his bases. When we're all being made to look one way, we never notice what's coming from the other side, he told her once.

Emma kicked at the sidewalk and let out a breath. A cloud hung for a moment in the air in front of her. She knew David was going to be find, but her on the other hand? It looked like her luck had finally run out. How was she going to pay the bills now? "Well there goes our bassist." And my kid, she thought.

"Well if you need someone who can play guitar," Regina said, "Killian used to play. I'm sure he would be delighted to stand in."

Emma spun around so fast, she almost lost her balance. "Really? That would be amazing. We would pay you and everything." At a discounted rate of course.

Killian flashed Regina a dangerous look. He was already busy with his new job and couldn't spare to lose more of his much needed prep time. He was about to object to his girlfriend's attempt at volunteering him to help when he took in the woman before him. Not just seconds ago, she looked as if she was given a death sentence, but the mere mention of his past experience with the guitar had set her eyes aflame with hope. She stared at him wide-eyed, waiting. He cursed to himself and said through gritted teeth, "It would be a pleasure."