Author's Note: Okay guys, so this is probably like, my favourite chapter, honestly I've been waiting to write this one pretty much since I came up with the idea for this story. So I really hope you all enjoy it as much as I do. As always, don't forget to feed the author with a smattering of reviews, and I'll see you next week! Enjoy!

Two Weeks Later

In the month since he had given her a ride to the game, Emma had been unable to get Neal out of her head. Something about him seemed very genuine, and she found herself imagining things she had no business thinking about. She found herself coming up with excuses on game days to see him more – just about any errand that needed running or any issue that needed dealing with, Emma volunteered to handle it. She became their right hand man, rather unintentionally, and it earned the respect of her peers as well, though she might lose it if they discovered the true motive for her dedication. And the way he looked at her sometimes, she thought that he might just feel the same way.

Emma, much to the surprise of the others, was the one who convinced Ruby and Mary Margaret that they should go to the grad student formal. They teased her and asked her why she was so keen on going, but Emma said only that she thought it would be a fun night. She didn't tell them about the visions of her in a beautiful gown catching Neal's eye, and him deciding that she was suddenly irresistible, or, well, any other part of the dream that had been plaguing her for the last week and a half.

On the night of the formal, Ruby and Mary Margaret joined Emma at her apartment for pizza and Netflix before they started getting ready for the night. It was far from the ball gown in Emma's dreams, but they cleaned up pretty good. She had wanted to go for a tight red dress, but Mary Margaret had called it a hooker dress and insisted that formals were for looking beautiful, not hot. Ruby had rolled her eyes at this and shrugged into a strappy, silk black sheath dress that had looked a bit like a trash bag on the hanger, but somehow looked impossibly good on her. Mary Margaret had white frock with silver embroidery and little crystals, which she paired with a pair of practical white ballet flats. Deep in the back of her closet, Emma found a pale pink dress made from some kind of shimmery fabric that made Mary Margaret gasp in delight. She stepped into it and Ruby obligingly zipped it for her. As she walked around, the skirt seemed to float effortlessly around her, and Emma felt a little bit like the fairy princess that she very much was not. It was a bit of a welcome break from her usual tough exterior, even if it did make her feel a touch uncomfortable.

They downed a few shots as they waited for their Uber to arrive, and then the three of them squeezed into the back, giggling happily. The venue was beautiful, lights and balloons and streamers in the school colors lining every wall, and there were already people dancing when they got there. Ruby made a beeline for the bar, all three of them cashing in the first of their drink tickets for another dose of liquid courage.

"So, who are you aiming to take home tonight?" Emma asked Ruby as they gathered around one of the high tables spread about the room.

"Hmm, I'm not sure," Ruby laughed, glancing around the room. "The business school boys are quite fine, but then they're so full of themselves. Of course there's always the law school ladies…"

Mary Margaret pretended to be scandalized, as always, by Ruby's willingness to go home with anyone, though they all knew it was a ruse. Mary Margaret was not nearly as judgmental and conservative as people thought, and she and Emma both knew that Ruby's promiscuity was the result of her previous trauma. When she was an undergraduate, her long-term boyfriend had been killed in a car accident, and Ruby had blamed herself, though Emma personally thought she couldn't be less responsible. The loss had crushed her, and she'd been spending the years since avoiding all semblance of romantic attachment.

"I take it you're still looking for your Prince Charming?" Ruby teased Mary Margaret, who blushed brightly.

"I just don't see the point in wasting time with anyone who isn't The One," Mary Margaret replied.

"But how can you know if they're The One unless you spend time with them," Emma challenged lightly.

"I just… I just will," Mary Margaret answered, puffing up a bit. "When it's true love, you just know."

Emma was about to roll her eyes, but something in the corner of the room caught her attention, and she focused on it, only to find Neal walking in, Tamara laughing lightly by his side.

"Emma?" Mary Margaret called, noticing her friend's lapse in attention.

"Look who it is," Ruby purred, looking like the cat that caught the canary, "Emma's true love."

"I highly doubt that," Emma countered, "since true love doesn't really exist and all."

"Maybe, but I bet he'd be a damn good lay anyway," Ruby taunted, and it was Emma's turn to blush.

"I'm not interested," she lied quickly, but both of her friends scoffed loudly.

"Then why can't you take your eyes off him?" Ruby said, as if that statement were the end of it, her hands coming to rest on her hips.

"Oh Emma, you should go talk to him!" Mary Margaret gushed, smiling an earnest, naïve smile.

"He seems a bit preoccupied," Emma spat out, her eyes flicking over to Tamara.

"I highly doubt he'd mind if you pulled him away from that witch," Ruby commented, downing the rest of her drink. "Come on, let's get another, maybe then Emma will feel brave enough to take Neal home."

They returned to the bar and cashed in a second round of drink tickets, and as they walked back toward the dance floor, Emma saw Tamara and Neal, the former watching her with hawk-like eyes. As soon as Tamara saw Emma look their way, a sickly sweet smile made its way across her face, and she looked up at Neal adoringly, pulling his lips down to meet hers. He responded enthusiastically, his hands on her waist pulling her closer to him, and Tamara's hands locked at the nape of his neck. For a brief moment, Emma saw Tamara eyes open and meet her own, and she knew immediately that this had been a message for her. Back off. Not yours. She read it loud and clear, like a bullet to the gut, and she felt bile welling up in the back of her throat, just as tears started to prick her eyes.

"I'll be right back," Emma said, thrusting her drink toward Mary Margaret. She needed to get away, needed air to breathe, space.

"Emma, are you…?" Ruby started, and then her eyes flicked past Emma and she saw the embracing lovebirds. "Son of a bitch!"

She looked ready to go punch one or both of them, but Emma grabbed her arm to stop her.

"It's fine, Ruby, really, I don't care," Emma said, hoping she was lying more convincingly this time than she had before.

"That's not what your face says," Ruby challenged, but her eyes had softened a bit, and she looked more like she wanted to hug Emma.

"I just have to pee," Emma argued, "I broke the seal back at the house. I promise, I'll be right back."

Mary Margaret and Ruby both looked skeptical, but they nodded, letting her go. As Emma stumbled toward the doorway, she wasn't sure if her friends had actually believed her (she doubted it) or if they just knew that she needed a moment to collect herself. It wasn't the world's best kept secret that Emma didn't like breaking down in front of other people, even her best friends. She pushed the heavy door open and stepped out into the cold, February air, gulping down deep breaths. Tears began to fall in earnest, and Emma didn't try to hold them back, there was no one there to see her as she sobbed.

At least, she thought there was no one there.

After a moment, someone, a distinctly male someone, cleared their throat lightly, and Emma felt them take a few steps closer to where she had collapsed onto the stairs. She tried to take steadying breaths, but it was hard, and the tears seemed determined to come whether she wanted them to or not.

"Are you alright?" the man who had approached her asked, and Emma's heart stopped when she heard his voice, she would know it anywhere.

Slowly, Emma pulled her hands away from her face and looked up form her lap, finding herself staring into the impossibly blue eyes of Killian Jones.

"Love, are you okay?" he repeated, his voice laced with concern, and Emma almost believed that it was genuine.

"I'm fine," she answered, trying to pretend that there weren't tear tracks staining her face.

"You're not," he persisted, and he sat down next to her, though she noticed that he was careful to keep a respectful distance.

"If you know everything then why'd you ask?" Emma snapped.

"It's polite," Killian said quietly. "Besides, nothing says 'my world is crumbling' quite like the words 'I'm fine'."

"Why do you care?" she asked, skeptical.

"I suppose I would hate to think that someone had upset the woman who has gone to such lengths to make sure I feel at home and supported," he replied, avoiding eye contact by looking up at the stars peppering the sky.

"You remember that," she stated, somewhat surprised.

"I wasn't the one downing rum like a bloody pirate," Killian responded with a light chuckle.

"What are you even doing out here?" Emma challenged, changing the topic aggressively.

"Hiding," he answered simply, and Emma narrowed her eyes at him.

"From what? Stalker groupie?" she hissed, and her tone sounded accusatory even to her own ears.

"Ah, no," Killian squirmed, his hand reflexively moving to scratch behind his ear. "There's a lot of alcohol in there."

"So?"

"So, as a borderline alcoholic, it is unwise for me to be in… tempting scenarios," he continued, his fingers scratching a little more intensely, and Emma wouldn't have been surprised if he drew blood.

"But you were at the bar," Emma burst out insensitively before she could stop herself.

"Aye, but David was there with me," Killian explained. "It's easier to stick to soda when you have an understanding friend with you."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know…" Emma began, but she trailed off, not really knowing what else she could say.

"Most people don't," he remarked, in an oddly detached way. "It's a story that's been carefully kept secret. Not… not to deceive anyone. Coach just wanted to protect me. It was a difficult time, he didn't want anyone making it any more difficult."

Emma stayed quiet, not knowing what she could say to that. She believed him, that it wasn't meant to deceive anyone. It seemed important to him that she knew that, and for reasons she couldn't quite explain, it was important to her too. She could feel his eyes burning through her skull as she considered what to say next.

"There's this guy," she started, feeling silly as she went on. "I thought he liked me, but then, it's so trivial in comparison, and he's with this girl, and it wouldn't be so bad if it were someone else, but this girl is just such a bitch…"

"You really like this guy?" Killian asked, and perhaps if she had been less focused on Neal, she wouldn't have missed the disappointment that flashed across his features.

"No, I mean, yeah, I guess a little," Emma sighed, struggling to figure out her emotions. "It just would have been nice to be wanted, to have someone again."

"May I give you a hug?" he inquired, one eyebrow raised, his arms already held out wide.

Emma considered the offer. It wasn't that she didn't want him to touch her, it was just that she didn't really do hugs, never really had. And yet, she almost wanted to. She needed some kind of sign.

"On one condition," she answered, and his eyebrow cocked even more. "Guess my name."

It was an impossible task, they both knew it. It was her own self-sabotaging way, setting him a task he could never accomplish so that when he failed it would be the sign she needed to not do what she wanted, to avoid being brave. Killian visibly balked when she said it, but a second later, his face had turned into a mask of determination, and he studied her face carefully, leaning in slightly so he could see every detail.

"Emma," he said, somewhere in between a statement and a question, his voice low, like he was surprised that that was the name that had bubbled to the surface.

Something inside Emma warmed considerably, and she felt as though a ball of tension had released itself. She leaned into him, resting her head against his chest, and she wound her arms around his waist. It took him a second to respond, but then he wrapped his arms around her, the muscles tightening against her skin. It was easily the most comfortable hug she'd ever had, and they both seemed content to stay that way. After a few minutes, Killian rested his chin on the top of Emma's head, and she let out a long breath that she hadn't realized she had been holding in. More minutes passed, and still neither of them moved, entirely content, until Emma felt a slightly different type of tension pull at her insides. Doing her best to suppress her desires, Emma pushed away from Killian and stood, holding her hand out to him.

"Come on, I'll be your David tonight," she said, and Killian took her hand with a strangely affected look on his face, as though nobody had ever said anything more perfect.