A/N: I would just like to take a swift moment to give a shout out to my wonderful beta resident_of_storybrooke as well as shady-swan-jones for the incredible story art and of course onceuponaprincessworld for keeping me updating once a week!

Hope it acts as a nice little glimpse at what's to come and that you all are having excellent weekends. Thank you so much for reading and commenting and sharing. This is such a wonderful outlet for me and you've all made it a safe space for me to try my hand at writing.

So thank you all, and hopefully you enjoy! :)

Killian's hand lingered on Emma's chin way longer than was appropriate. He could hardly force himself to care for a moment, her skin was soft and warm. Even though it was just the grasp of his fingers it felt right. Her green eyes sparkled as she looked up at him expectantly, like he could be someone she could lean on just a bit. However he got the impression that Emma wasn't exactly someone who turned to others for support which made the moment all the more monumental.

The music and chatter from the bar blared, making its way toward the back corner where they were. Killian had only ever been back here once, and he could hardly remember it. His days as a bachelor were riddled with stories he could barely recall. And he never wanted to be back in that place again.

Along with the noise from the other room, something else wandered toward them. Or rather, someone. A young man and woman clearly in the throes of something very passionate as it took almost no time for them to begin kissing up against a wall not ten feet from where Killian and Emma were.

It was sloppy and hurried and far too private for them to be anywhere near.

But when he looked back at Emma he realized her eyes were glazed over in awe of the couple. She was so beautiful, he thought as his eyes lingered on her. But she didn't look like she belonged in this bar. She had a poise about her that suggested she was above it all, not intentionally or in a bad way. Just somehow other worldly. Like she could be a painting instead.

"Why don't we go somewhere more private?" he offered drawing Emma's attention back to him. She looked startled, as if she had just been caught doing something she wasn't supposed to be.

"Yeah, yeah, sounds good," she replied hurriedly. Killian raised an eyebrow at her, wondering if the flush on her cheeks had always been there. "I'm good, let's go."

Once upstairs, Killian closed the door to the small studio apartment he had once called home. But this was the first time he had been here and wasn't smashed drunk. He watched Emma look around in the dim light of the singular lamp, she wasn't timid about it either. The way her eyes dragged over every surface. The plank wood floor. The sparse furnishings. The neatly made bed. He hadn't used it in a few weeks, the last time he brought someone back here he woke up to find Emma downstairs in the diner.

"Is this where you live?" she asked crossing her arms over her chest.

"No, uh, it's not," he stepped toward the small kitchen and opened the fridge. All that remained inside were a six pack of beer and a half stick of butter. Back when he did live here this would have been considered full. He held up one of the unopened bottles. "Care for a drink?"

"Got anything stronger?"

"Let me see." He dug around in the few cabinets that were in the kitchen, if one could even call it that. The builder's grade cabinets took up one wall and had most likely been there since the bar was built. There was virtually no counter space, most of it taken up by a sink and a hot plate.

But he was able to find an old half consumed bottle of whiskey and some glasses.

Killian rinsed the glasses in the sink, unsure of how long they had been there. When he turned to give Emma her drink she had sat on the edge of the bed. Her back straight, her white lace dress clinging tightly to her body. Her mane of blonde hair framed her face, her green eyes striking.

"Here, love," he handed her the glass and she tilted it back into her throat in one go. Quite impressive, Killian wasn't sure he was capable of the same.

"Thanks," she said wiping a bit of the whiskey from the corner of her lip. Their plump bow shape painted in a subtle pink. "Quite the turn of events."

"Yeah," he said, grabbing the bottle and pouring her another drink. This time she only sipped and he sat down a few feet away from her on the bed. Outside the window he could hear the crowd below. People making their way through the streets for a Saturday night out. "I know it's not the kind of place you're accustomed to but I'm afraid it's the most convenient for now."

"Believe it or not there was a time when I lived in an apartment just like this," she said. Though he couldn't tell by looking at her, Emma was like a doll almost when she sat still like this. Her posture so poised and her skin as smooth as porcelain. Even with her sitting in the room he couldn't picture her in an apartment that resembled his old one.

"Must have been a lifetime ago," Killian muttered, taking down his drink and pouring himself another. Emma was watching him, he could feel it on his skin.

"I grew up with nothing," she started, running her finger along the rim of the glass. "And when I first met Neal we had nothing."

Killian remained still, thinking that if he moved she would realize how crazy this was.

"I never knew his father had so much money until one day he showed up at the door asking for his son. Neal wasn't home at the time so his father stayed and we had a chat where I learned who exactly he was and that he had been cut off financially until he got serious." She sipped the drink again, her lips leaving a mark on the rim. "I should have known then."

"Known what?"

"Known that he couldn't be trusted when someone else had to tell me the truth about him." She looked down for a moment, away from Killian, and twisted the diamond ring on her finger.

He couldn't help but wonder all of the things she had to turn away from the marry that man.

"I was young and in love, people do stupid things when they're in love."

"Are you still?" he had to ask. Even though he wanted to take it back immediately. They weren't here to discuss emotions, but he selfishly wanted to know.

A noticeable pause lingered in the air before she answered.

"No," said Emma. "No, I am not."

"When did you know you weren't anymore?"

"He went too far. I was content to move here with him, to attempt to have the family and the life I always wanted growing up… but… he set me up."

"He what?" Killian couldn't exactly disguise his concern. "Emma if you're in any kind of trouble…."

"No, it's… I'm not in any trouble. At least for now."

"How do you even look at him?"

"I have no choice." She shifted her body and faced him. They were awfully close now. Less than a foot apart. If he moved his leg just a bit it would be resting next to hers. "I'm trapped, which I suppose is what he always wanted."

"Emma…" he reached up and brushed his thumb beneath her eye where a single tear had fallen. As if catching it could undo the reason why she was tearing up. Her cheek was warm, flushing a pale pink beneath his touch. "There's no need to feel like you're alone."

"This is weird," she said abruptly standing up. But she didn't leave, she just walked toward the window. The light from outside caught the side of her face, where a stream of black came from her eye. "We hardly know each other."

"Don't we?"

"Well, it's just…" she turned back to him and had calmed a bit. "I've never talked to anyone about this before."

"Neither have I." He stayed put, not wanting to make her feel threatened.

"How exactly are you involved in all of this?"

"It's relatively complicated," he said standing up. Dredging up his past wasn't something he often did in front of anyone. To talk about Milah, to say her name even in front of anyone else had been difficult for a long while after her death. And this conversation probably required more whiskey. "My girlfriend… well she has since passed away but a few years ago she died."

He poured the drink, topping off Emma as well who was now leaned up against the kitchen cabinets, her legs crossed one over the other as if this were a casual conversation about weather.

"She had her share of issues, demons she was fighting. Her official cause of death was an overdose but… the circumstances surrounding her death were quite suspect."

"Killian I'm so sorry…"

"She was an addict, that much I am certain. But I find it hard to believe that there wasn't more to it than that. Especially when I found out later that she had been dealing."

"You think someone killed her?"

"Aye, I think she got herself in too deep with your husband's family."

"So you're saying that they're also responsible for some sort of drug dealing?"

Killian hesitated for a moment. He had never indicated it out loud before, never told anyone that he thought Milah's death wasn't an accident.

"Yes. And they're using the construction business as a front."

Emma didn't say anything for a while, using the sharp sting of alcohol to swallow the lump in her throat. When she placed her glass on the counter, her face looked tense. Tight. Unsure of what she was about to say.

"He's not the person I once thought that he was," she finally said. "I don't believe a word of anything that comes out of his mouth. He never comes home, and if he does he smells like booze and perfume."

How anyone could step out on her Killian hadn't the slightest clue.

"I don't know exactly what he and his father are up to, I wish I had a real answer. But I don't, and

I won't fake one."

"I would never expect you to, love."

"I do know that there is something going on. That something isn't right. One time I…"

She trailed off. Not finishing what she had started to say.

"Emma what is it?" he tried to say as softly as he could.

"One time I… well something happened a few months ago before we moved here. I had his car and there was, well there was…"

He waited for her to finish, he wouldn't force her if she didn't want to talk about it. Bearing in mind she still had a ring on her finger and was still married to this person.

"There was quite a bit of cocaine in the car." She twiddled her manicured fingers together. "He was setting me up."

"He was what?" Now Killian had raised his voice, his calm demeanor shifting at the thought of her getting caught in this.

"I can't get into the details of it, not right now anyways, the depth that it spans but I can tell you that whatever they're doing, they're most certainly using that business as a front for something bigger."

He had never seen her so anxious, so on edge about anything. Even when he had walked in on she and Neal having that tense conversation in the garage she hadn't come across this nervous. As much as Killian felt vindicated to know that his suspicions were right, he hated that she felt this way at all. Hated that this conversation even had to happen.

"Emma…"

"I'm sorry…" quickly she pulled herself together. Instantly the wall was back. "I have no idea when I became this person."

"What kind of person is that?" It was an odd thing to say, as if the Emma before him was entirely different entity.

"The kind who stays in a woe is me situation."

"Emma, I never wanted to upset you by talking," he offered. "I know it all sounds like an unbelievable stretch but…."

"It doesn't sound so unbelievable to me."

"No?"

"No," Emma shifted a bit, turning toward him. Even in her high heeled shoes she was still about a head shorter than he was. "I stopped believing the best in people a long time ago."

"Not everyone is bad."

"How can you be so sure?" she asked with genuine curiosity, she wasn't lying when she said she had lost faith in the human race.

"Because if you truly believed that, then why would you have trusted me?"

Emma pondered that for a moment, as if this was the first moment she had just realized that the two of them were tucked away in a room together baring secrets they hadn't shared with anyone before.

"I don't know why I do," she finally said. Her eyes weren't focused on him, they looked beyond at the wall. "Why do you trust me?"

"I can't describe it, I just have this feeling I can."

"It's not something I often do," she said stepping toward him, the air between them growing thick the closer they got. Every sound in the room was tuned out, all he heard was the sound of his heart speeding up. "And I feel like you're the same."

"Aye. We're alike in that way," he said as smoothly as he could muster. She was just inches from him now. If he shifted slightly they would be touching but he didn't. He couldn't. He was completely frozen. Especially when she looked up at him, her green eyes wide and clear instead of hiding behind a layer of tears. She wore more make up than he had ever seen her in, which only enhanced her features in the dim light.

"Yeah," she said. A hint of a smile on her lips, like she enjoyed that idea.

"So what do we do?"

"I have no idea." She tilted her head and her long blonde hair fell over her shoulder. He needed to focus. "But maybe we could decide on a day when we both haven't had several glasses of straight whiskey."

"I suppose you're right." His face broke into a smirk. "When is a good time to see you again?"

"Monday…. Maybe in the afternoon."

"Alright, I will see you then," he said, already looking forward to it.

Neither of them moved. Neither one seemed in a particular hurry to get away from one another.

Not when it felt this electric to be this close.

In her head Emma knew she had crossed a line Saturday night. She knew she had taken it too far by following Killian upstairs in a bar and tossing back several shots of alcohol only to tell him all she could about her situation.

But in her heart she couldn't force herself to think it was wrong. The whole thing had felt so right, especially when nothing had felt right in so long.

Now she had to figure out what the next step was, because she had a real ally. Not a fake one like August who called her several times a week to probe her for information. That's what was nice about Killian, the whole time she had talked to him she never felt that pressure. She knew with him she didn't have to say anything she didn't want to.

That was probably what made it so easy.

At the same time though, she knew that underneath that conversation they had something else lingered. There was a feeling that came over her when she thought of him, a wave of emotions she didn't know she had anymore. It was something that burned like desire, but simmered like hope.

Emma had avoided visiting Neal at work even before she knew that he and his father were running a major criminal operation out of it. She never wanted to be there, on the massive property that contained all of the materials they used to build the town of Storybrooke. The long blocks of wood, the forklifts carrying pallets of dirt, the showroom of staged paneling and scale models of homes.

But today she had forced herself to come. Neal's car was here, her white Range Rover next to his black one, he must be somewhere on the compound. The parking lot was fairly empty, a Monday morning wasn't exactly the time people came to plan out their dream home. Which was why Emma had decided a weekday visit would be best.

Inside the showroom, Emma was alone. Not a soul was here. In her hand she had a bag of take out food, coming here under the guise of bringing a lunch was her best bet for looking genuine.

"Hello?" she called out to no one in particular. She peered around the large room, which was filled with model kitchens and floors and beams and any kind of construction combination one could imagine. Which made it tough for Emma to tell if she was completely alone or not.

She knew for sure she wasn't though when she heard the click of heels on the hard floor. Emma looked to see a woman with a short blonde bob, and a dress that almost exactly resembled hers. Both the same cut, shape, belted waist. Emma's was pink though, where the other woman's was blue.

Immediately Emma's defenses went up. Neal had bought her this dress.

"Can I help you?" said the blonde, who was now only a few feet from Emma. She was pretty, sharp features. Defined lips, deep brown eyes, a layer of make up a pick axe couldn't peel off.

"I'm looking for N-… my husband."

"Are you Emma?" the woman asked, at the same time noticing they wore the same dress. Two shades of the same model. Her face twisted into a grimace just barely before flashing a fake white smile. "I'm Amanda, I work with Neal."

"Oh," Emma was startled, he had never mentioned her. Nor had Emma ever met her.

"I'm guessing you didn't know I existed…" Amanda stepped closer, pulling the binder in her arms closer to her chest. As soon as she was within fair distance Emma caught a whiff of something. It was entirely too familiar for this to be the first time she had smelled it.

"No, I don't normally visit him here," Emma's posture tightened as she realized where she had smelled that perfume before. "Leave the work life separate."

"Must be hard for him to do, he's here so often."

It was a jab if Emma had ever heard one. And despite now knowing that this was the woman Neal was sleeping with, it didn't rile her up. In fact, she felt almost nothing.

"He's a bit of a workaholic," Emma said coolly. "I find ways to keep busy."

"I'm sure you do."

Amanda was clearly more agitated than Emma, probably because she thought that being the other woman gave her the upper hand in this situation. Her body language was tense and her face rested in a scowl. Lining her lips was the same shade of lipstick Emma had found on Neal's dress shirt.

"Would you mind telling him I'm here, I have coffee." Emma waved the to-go cup tray in her hands. She didn't want to hang out with Neal any more than this barracuda in pumps wanted her to, but Emma wanted out of her situation and the only way to do that was to be around the place she was certain covered up something much bigger.

"Sure." The tight lipped woman stalked out of the room, her posture still tight. Emma had to hand it to Neal, he certainly had a type. At least physically.

Of course he would be stupid enough to get them the same dress in a different color. She just hoped he was dumb enough to leave around any indication as to what was really going on at this company.

"Emma, I didn't expect you to be here," Neal said when he entered the main part of the showroom. He was dressed as he usually was at work, well-tailored suit, tie perfectly in place, slime beneath his skin.

"I figured I would drop by, I was out running errands." It was a lie but he would never be able to pick up on that.

"Well I was actually just headed out to a job site," he began, already trying to weasel away from her. Probably toward the other woman he was sleeping with who lingered a few feet away pretending to be busy. "I can spare a few minutes though."

"Thanks," she forced herself to say, as if his presence in her life was such a gift.

Emma followed him back to his office. The space was highly modern, sleek looking. All of the surfaces were either white, gray or black. Much like their home. There were a few windows that allowed for some natural light but not much personality other than that. The only evidence of

Emma's presence was a small frame of the two of them that had been migrated to the corner shelf.

"Doing some rearranging?" she asked, carrying the frame in her hands. It used to be on his desk, a gift from her when she had been genuinely trying to make it work with him.

"The cleaning crew must have moved that," he offered, taking the frame and setting it back on his desk. Though that most certainly was not the case. And Emma suspected it much more had to do with the woman she had met earlier.

"I got your favorite," she said, ignoring that conversation. It wasn't that much of a loss to her.

"Non fat skim. On ice."

Neal took the plastic cup from the tray, sipping at the drink. Emma looked out the window toward the lot. Forklifts moved around, men worked out in the hot sun, a truck was being unloaded from the docks. There certainly was a lot going on here, and there was plenty of access to the water. The more she thought about it the more she realized how easy it would be to make this a front for something bigger. But in order to figure that out she would need to come back at a time where she could remain unnoticed. Where she could look around, scope it out.

Emma knew her time with Neal was limited. She was walking a fine line with him. If she hung around him too much, probed him too much and asked him too many questions then he would know something was up. But at the same time she needed answers. What was it that his family was hiding? Obviously the drugs had something to do with it. But were the two of them just running some large scale criminal operation? Despite all Emma had learned about her fake husband, she still found it not to be so plausible.

When Emma got back to the house, Killian was already there. This time he was alone, he had no crew with him, no other people working in the yard. It was only him. Spreading mulch over the beds in the front yard. He didn't look up at first when she pulled in, after all they were in the front. People lurking all about that could catch them having a conversation that lasted too long.

It had almost happened Saturday night when she snuck off with him in the bar. However, it wasn't the people there she was concerned with. There were others on the street that made Emma uneasy, so when she walked past Killian to get to her front door she only gave him a polite nod. Hoping he would understand.

As she reached the top of the steps to the porch she spun around and allowed herself a second to appreciate Killian. The dark hair, the light eyes, the broody way he carried himself. She was drawn to him, and not just because they had learned so much about one another. It was beyond that.

Emma was attracted to him.

"Killian," she called out to him and immediately he stopped what he was doing. The shovel resting in the dirt at his feet. "Can you come help me with something? A shelf fell in my closet."

It wasn't a lie, one of the racks had fallen that morning when she had been getting ready.

"Sure," he said removing his gloves and throwing them onto the ground. If there was a smirk in him somewhere he tried to hide it very well, but not well enough. "I'll be right in."

"Great," she said curtly, glancing to see if any of the neighbors wandering about outside had paid mind to the interaction. They hadn't. Most people were just carrying on with their lives as usual. As far as Emma could tell. That didn't mean they hadn't noticed though.

Inside Emma wordlessly led Killian up the stairs to the master bedroom. He followed along quietly, not questioning her or appearing put off. He carried a box of tools he had grabbed from his truck that clinked together with each step. When they reached the closet it was plain to see that a shelf and rod of clothes had fallen. Leaving scattered dresses and shoe boxes lying on the floor.

The closet, on the whole, was larger than the entire apartment Killian had taken Emma to on Saturday night. No wonder he had been so insecure about the place, he assumed this was what she was accustomed to. Rows of neatly organized clothes hanging in handcrafted wood segments. A vanity that boasted vintage looking bulbs to light up the clean, white surface of the dressing table. A soft, plush rug that somehow comforted each of one's toes as they stepped through. A chandelier hanging from the vaulted ceiling to offset the recess lighting. It was a dream closet, in a dream house. But to Emma it had all become a nightmare.

"So this must be the culprit," he said wandering over to it. His eyes surveyed the failed craftsmanship and his hand reached up to caress his jaw, rubbing at it methodically as he studied the place where the shelf had come from. "Emma it looks like someone yanked this clear off the wall."

No, it wasn't a lie that one of the racks had fallen. That part was true. However, she had decided to omit the story of her knocking it down so she had a reason to bring him up here.

"Oh, it does, doesn't it?" she said pretending to be surprised by the scuff marks underneath where the rod went into the wall. The massive chunk of paint that had come off along with it.

"Is it possible that someone did this on purpose?" He turned toward her, coming across more serious than he had before. And Emma worried maybe that she had misread him.

"I just wanted to have a reason for you to come in. This," she gestured between the two of them, "is all new to me."

"Well, for the record, love," he said taking the rod from where it lay on the ground and beginning to assess the project. "If you want to spend time with me all you need to do is ask. There's no need to use deliberate property damage as an excuse."

Emma smiled a bit, she knew he was right. Still she watched as he worked, and even when he finished putting the section of the closet back in place she didn't move.

"Entertaining enough for you?" he said turning around, his eyebrow raised teasingly.

"There are certainly worse views to have."

It was hard for her to remain cloaked in the armor of pretending to be married to Neal, it was even harder when she was around Killian. Because he was someone who had begun to make her feel things she wasn't used to. It tested the limits of her restraint. But now she wondered exactly what she was restraining herself for. Killian knew that Neal wasn't a good guy, that he was actively lying to Emma and putting her in a really nasty situation. So why was she still acting like the ring on her finger meant anything?

"Listen, Emma," he said with a bit more urgency than usual. "I know we have to talk about… well about what we talked about on Saturday, and I am aware that this puts you in a more precarious position than I."

Emma's head tilted looking at him, he appeared nervous. A little tense even as his hand reached up to scratch behind his ear. His eyes were fixed on the floor but he was barely an inch away from her. Their tension lingered in the air like dust before settling. Emma's heart pounded in her ears but she tried to remain as composed as one could.

Killian's eyes shifted to Neal's half of the closet. All of the carefully hung clothes that were a reminder of his presence. In the moment Emma resented them, every last shirt, because she knew what Killian was eluding to.

"Killian… there's something you need to know…" she wanted to tell him she didn't love Neal at all, that they were only really together technically not legally. "With Neal and I there's no… we aren't…."

"There's no what, love?" he asked on bated breath. His question worded so carefully it would mean two things.

Without thinking any further, without clouding up her head with second guesses Emma grabbed the fabric of Killian's shirt and pulled him toward her. Their lips meeting, though soft at first, it felt the way a kiss should. The softness growing quickly to urgency the longer they were connected. Emma felt it to her sensation of wanting someone so badly, then finally getting a taste.

His tongue teased the entrance to her mouth as the kiss deepend, she felt the tingle and tear of his fingers running through her hair. They broke ever so quickly for breath before resuming and Emma wanted to know all that his man was capable of making her experience.

The feel of his beard against her jaw, the way his mouth danced perfectly with hers, his hands fell to her hips encircling her naturally pulling her flush against him. The touch of his fingers burned through the fabric of her clothes, the fire between them only heightening the longer they were under the spell of one another. It was a part of him she had as a part of him she had never seen before. A part of him that wanted her too, so badly that logic didn't matter.

It was unlike anything she had experienced before.

But then all too quickly it was over.

"Emma…" Killian pulled his mouth from hers. His eyes still closed as their foreheads rested together. His hands cupped her cheeks, the tender feeling of his skin on hers sent warmth down to her core. Her hand still fisted around the collar of his shirt. Her eyes flickered to the glimpse of dark, coarse chest hair that the fabric heavy breath the only sound in the room. "We can't… you're…"

Now was the time, if ever she needed to just come out and say it, it was now. Because it was tearing at her throat, the last part of her secret that she had never told anyone. And she was certain Killian would not touch her again unless he knew.

She sucked in a breath, pulled all of her courage and the adrenaline running through her from that kiss, "Killian… Neal and I aren't really married. We never were."