Emma woke up in her pajamas and reminded herself to thank Ruby. She sat up and smiled when smelled the sweet, homey scent of fresh-baked cinnamon rolls and knew who was in her apartment. Mary Margaret.

Emma got up and was about to go downstairs when she caught her reflection in the mirror and scared herself. She'd cried herself to sleep before she'd gotten the chance to remove her makeup from last night, and it showed. Mascara had run down her cheeks with the tears, and her lipstick was smudged. She grabbed her makeup wipes and got rid of all the evidence that she'd been crying: used tissues streaked with mascara littered around the foot of her bed. She couldn't quite mask her eyes that were bloodshot from crying, but other than that she looked about as normal as she always did. With one last sidelong glance into the mirror, she strode out of her bedroom and down the stairs to find Mary Margaret in her kitchen, pulling a tray of finished cinnamon rolls from the oven.

"God, you're a saint," Emma said in greeting. She'd never been good at cooking, so she was lucky she'd found friends who did it for her. Cinnamon rolls too-they reminded her of her favorite foster home she'd ever been in with her best friend August. He still visited occasionally.

Mary Margaret placed the tray down on the countertop and took off her oven mitts before turning and pulling her into a tight hug. She pulled back and took Emma's face in both of hers, peering into her eyes.

"Oh my god. Have you been crying?" Mary Margaret said, noticing her red eyes. Emma rolled her eyes and Mary Margaret pulled her into a tight hug again. "Oh Emma," she said, letting Emma slump into her shoulder.

She felt tears rising up in her eyes again at the sign of care Mary Margaret was displaying for her. She'd never really been cared for like this before. Mary Margaret led them over to the couch, where she grabbed a Kleenex box (God, this woman was the definition of 'mom friend') and sat them down. Emma laid down on her lap, crying into a pillow as Mary Margaret handed her tissues and stroked her hair.

Of course, Mary Margaret knew exactly how to handle her when she was like this. She was infinitely thankful for her family. Even though they weren't actually her blood, from what she understood from Disney movies and books, her friends were the closest thing to family she was going to get. They were always there for her, whether she needed them or not. They stood by her through every hard decision, every bad choice, every good one. They were always there to comfort her, and she needed it more often than not.

They sat in silence apart from Emma's sobs for a good 20 minutes before Emma stopped. Mary Margaret stared down at her, a look of empathy on her face. It was never pity. It was always empathy.

"Let's go eat the cinnamon rolls before they get cold," Mary Margaret said, a gentle smile forming on her face.

Emma chuckled lightly and got up. Mary Margaret served her a fresh, warm cinnamon roll with homemade icing and a mug of coffee, made just the way Emma liked it: 2 creams and no sugar. Emma smiled in thanks and ate. The cinnamon roll was absolutely delectable, as per usual. Mary Margaret often baked for the kids in her class, so she always baked for her friends as well.

"Wanna talk about it?" Mary Margaret asked.

Emma nodded, finishing her bite of cinnamon roll before continuing, "It's Killian."

Mary Margaret looked shocked. "But you two seemed to be hitting it off so well!"

Emma looked down, not meeting her eyes. "I thought so, too," she admitted.

"What happened?"

"He pulled away."

"He did what?" her jaw dropped in utter surprise.

"We were… about to kiss, and he pulled away. "

"He might've just thought you were taking things a bit too fast, or didn't want to seem like he only wanted one thing," Mary Margaret stated truthfully.

Neither of the thoughts had occurred to her. "Yeah, I guess so. I guess I just thought…" Emma started.

"That he was going to leave you like Neal did?" Mary Margaret finished.

Emma nodded, not meeting her eyes. Mary Margaret covered her hand with her own, causing Emma to look up at her and meet her gaze.

"Killian," Mary Margaret said, "is nothing like Neal. I barely know him, but I can already tell he's the type of guy that would never, ever hurt you." Mary Margaret smiled reassuringly.

Emma softly smiled back. Both of her friends approved of him, and that was enough for her. But it left one question lingering: were they taking it too fast?

"MILAH!" Killian shot up, his body cold and clammy with sweat. He leaned back on his hands, breathing heavily.

He looked around his room, familiarizing himself with it. He lifted himself out of bed and went into the bathroom. He ran cold water from the sink and cupped his hand underneath the cool flow. He brought his water-filled hand to his face, shaking himself out of the stupor of the dream with the splash of cold water. He placed his palms on the countertop, leaning his weight on it and looking up at himself in the mirror. He studied himself carefully before looking away from his own blue eyes and exiting as promptly as he'd come in.

Smee waited for him outside, sitting and thumping his tail on the ground as he panted. Killian crouched low and stroked his large head.

"Someone's energetic today," he said, chuckling as the dog rolled onto his stomach for a belly rub. He indulged Smee and rubbed his stomach. He was grateful for the dog. He'd told Emma that Smee was given to him "by a friend who couldn't take care of him anymore." It was true- the dog had been Liam's, just before he passed. He and Elsa had rescued him from a shelter as a puppy and planned to raise him together, their first big step as a couple after moving in together. They hadn't gotten much time to raise him before the accident. Elsa had survived- she lived with her sister and her sister's husband in Finland now- but Liam was killed upon the impact of a drunk driver's car.

Elsa couldn't bear to keep Smee. He reminded her constantly of him, and the life they now could never have together, so Killian volunteered himself to take on the puppy. He'd stayed a few months in England before he'd brought him to Storybrooke, a fresh start for both of them. Liam was taking care of him from beyond the grave because Smee was one of the best things that had ever happened to him. Caring for Smee had helped him get over the loss of his brother, and of Milah. He couldn't imagine life without him now. Smee was always happy to see him when he got home, was never mad with him, forever loyal, and always ready to comfort him when he needed comfort. He truly loved the dog.

The dog reciprocated the feeling, apparently, since he suddenly sat up and licked Killian's face, making him chuckle and wash his face again. Looking over at the clock and realizing it was 11 AM, Killian threw on a pair of dark wash jeans, a t shirt, a soft cashmere sweater, his black pea coat, his red scarf, gloves and his work boots before stepping out with Smee in tow.

He decided to head over to the park. It was awfully beautiful in the winter, the ponds frozen over and the grass layered with piles of perfectly settled snow. He resolved to walk his favorite route to his favorite bench between the tall trees and found a familiar face sitting there.

She stared off into the distance, not seeing or hearing him approach. She looked deep in thought. She looked absolutely lovely, in her red leather jacket with long, black boots. Her hair was fanned out over her shoulders , covered in snowflakes. She was stunning.

"Swan!" Killian called out jovially, making his way to her. She turned to face him, snapping out of her daydream. She smiled softly when she saw him.

"Hey, Killian," she said softly, eyeing him as he sidled up to her.

"May I?" he asked, nodding toward the open seat next to her on the bench.

She nodded and he sat down. Smee immediately ran up to her and jumped on her, placing his paws on her knees and licking her face. She laughed and patted his head. Killian smiled when she laughed.

"This is Smee," he said by way of introduction, even though she'd already met him (albeit drunkenly).

"So I see," she said, smiling at the dog, who had sat down at her feet.

She patted his head again before Killian spoke.

"What brings you out here?" Killian asked.

"What, can't a girl take a walk to her favorite bench in a beautiful park in winter without being questioned?" she asked, smirking.

Killian hummed contentedly.

"What?" she asked him.

"Oh nothing. It just so happens that this is my favorite bench as well," he said, looking deep into her green eyes.

"Oh? And why haven't I seen you here before?" she asked him.

"I could ask the same of you," Killian replied, smirking.

"Well, I asked first," Emma said.

"I honestly don't know, love. I'm here at least once or twice a week, for maybe 3 months now." Killian replied matter-of-factly.

"That's strange. I've been coming here since I was a kid. My parents used to take me here before…" she trailed off.

Killian met her eyes then, nodding at her as if to say, you can tell me anything.

"Before their accident," she finished, tears beginning to form in her eyes.

"Emma, I'm so sorry, love," he said, reaching for her bare hand with his gloved one.

She laced her fingers in his, finding his eyes. He looked so sincere, unlike Neal ever had.

She began to cry, letting the tears trickle down her face. He let go of her hand and unbuttoned his parka, opening it and moving closer to her. He put his arm around her and wrapped the open parka around both of them as she leaned into him, letting her head come to rest on the soft material of his sweater. Her tears dampened the gray material and he rubbed the small of her back.

They sat like that for what seemed like hours. It came so naturally to both of them, as if they'd performed the action a million times before. It was easy with Killian, and she found it hard to break away. When she finally did, he cupped her face wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb and dropped his hand. Electricity lingered where his hand had touched her. She smiled gently at him. She liked this- this closeness, this gentle flirtation, this devilishly handsome man. It made her even more scared of what could possibly happen, and how hurt she could be if her turned out to be anything like Neal.

Unprompted, he launched into a tale of his own.

"I lost my brother last year to a drunk driver," he said softly to her, almost in a whisper. "He was a better man than I. He deserved more."

Emma leaned back into his chest and whispered to him, "I'm sorry, Killian."

Her phone rang just then, and she groaned when she had to leave Killian's warmth to see who it was. It was David, calling her to tell her that Leroy had gotten into another bar fight. Goddamn that idiot, she thought to herself. Can't he stay out of trouble for one day?

She hung up and looked at him. "Duty calls," she said, moving to get up.

He rose as well, taking off his coat and handing it to her. "It's a bit of a walk from here to the station," he said. "Take this."

"Killian…" she started.

"I insist," he said. Goddamn it, she thought to herself. This guy is perfect.

She took the coat from him and wrapped herself in it. It was a bit big, but it was comfortable and it smelled like him- like his spicy body wash and the slight smell of the sea. She snuggled into it.

"Thanks, Killian, but when will I give it back to you?"

"I guess you'll just have to wait 'till next time," he said with a smile.

"Next time? Well you're certainly optimistic," she said, smirking.

He chuckled to himself.

"Goodbye, Killian," she said, leaning in and pecking him on the cheek before turning around and leaving, not waiting to see his reaction.