She should have been getting dressed but couldn't get that afternoon out of her mind for some reason. The afternoon that had changed everything about how she'd perceived Killian Jones and her memories of the incident that brought them together were just as vivid now as they'd been three years ago.

Three years ago tonight. The anniversary of that fateful day and her brain wanted her to experience it all over again. The day she'd nearly lost the love of her life before she'd even found him.

2017

Of course she was the one stuck working on Valentine's Day. She was the only deputy in the Storybrooke, Maine Sheriff's department who was single and everyone knew that Emma Swan didn't have a date. She wasn't really resentful of the fact that she was single or the fact that she'd been scheduled to work tonight, it was more hurtful that everybody just automatically assumed she'd be spending another Valentine's alone.

She'd had boyfriends. A few of them, at least. So she hadn't dated anyone steady since high school… It wasn't that big of a deal. She could have found a date for tonight if she'd wanted to, but she hadn't bothered. David and his wife Mary Margaret were expecting so this would be their last Valentine's Day without needing a babysitter for the next decade. Emma wouldn't have denied them a quiet evening. And Graham - he and Ruby had been getting pretty serious since they'd started dating last fall and because Ruby was one of her best friends, Emma couldn't say no to her. (And she'd get all of the salacious details later because Ruby wasn't one to keep exploits to herself. The stories that girl could tell!)

So, here she was - sitting at her desk listening to her fellow deputies hash out their lovey-dovey plans for tonight while she'd be here awaiting the inevitable drunken domestic disturbance calls later when romantic plans begin to go awry. It was almost an annual event that her buddy, Leroy, would be spending the night sobering up in holding. Ah the things she had to look forward to she mused as she overheard David confirming a dinner reservation at Tony's.

The call came in at a little after 4 that afternoon. Car versus motorcycle on Main Street. According to the eyewitness who phoned in the report, there were serious injuries involved. An ambulance had already been dispatched to the scene by the 911 operator and they needed law enforcement. Emma already knew all of this though because the accident site was only a block and a half from the Sheriff's station. She'd heard the squealing tires and the dull thud that followed. Seconds later, she was out the door trying to see what had happened while concerned citizens rushed toward the accident scene. Emma's radio crackled with information relayed by the emergency operator, but she was already seeing the events unfolding before her as she elbowed her way to the front of the crowd.

Half of the population of Storybrooke must have been gathered in the street, blocking her view. The first thing she could make out was the smashed rear door on the driver's side of a dark blue sedan. The young woman who'd apparently been driving the vehicle was standing off to the side, visibly shaken as strangers attempted to calm her. It wasn't until Emma shoved her way into the clearing that she noticed the mangled motorcycle and the unfortunate man pinned beneath it.

The bike's front axle and wheel were bent nearly 90 degrees from where they should have been. One of the handlebars had been sheared off along with the mirror and the windshield was shattered, but that wasn't the worst of the carnage. Most of the body of the motorcycle was resting atop its unconscious operator's leather-clad left leg. The way the victim was laying in the street suggested that he'd made a drastic turn to the left in hopes of avoiding colliding with the car head on but there was no doubt that he'd suffered the brunt of it.

Emma had immediately known the man's identity. She'd recognized what was left of the Harley Davidson's custom paint job - the skull and crossbones flag emblazoned across the fuel tank. She also knew that jet black leather jacket. The one that belonged to the retired Royal Navy lieutenant turned History teacher, Killian Jones. He'd only been in Storybrooke for a couple of years, having accepted a teaching position here after leaving the Royal Navy. Her path had only crossed with the handsome Englishman's a few times but she knew he was a loner who lived on a boat down at the harbor. By all accounts, he was an excellent teacher who spoke at least 5 languages, but he kept to himself outside of the school. Rumor had it that he had a dark past, but Emma had only seen a brooding, not very social introvert who either took to the local highways on his motorcycle or sailed out into the open sea every weekend. No one had really gotten close enough to ask why.

She tasked herself with crowd control as Storybrooke's lone fire truck and paramedic unit arrived on scene. She shouted at gawkers to move back to the sidewalk until her voice was hoarse. Why were people so obnoxious? She made sure that the rescue crews had plenty of room to do their job as she tried to interview witnesses for her report. So far, all of the stories were the same: teenager driving the sedan had made a left turn onto Main Street from 2nd Avenue but hadn't seen the motorcycle. She'd tried to stop but was already too far into the intersection. Jones had swerved to not strike the vehicle head on, but couldn't escape her path in time. He'd broadsided the vehicle with his bike, rotating the front axle further than mechanical limits allowed before it toppled over onto his leg, pinning him to the asphalt.

It had been no easy feat to remove the motorcycle wreckage from atop Killian Jones' leg, but with the assistance of a tow truck winch, the rescue crew freed him about twenty minutes later. Paramedics did their best to immobilize him until they could get a clearer look at his injuries, finding his left leg twisted unnaturally and unsurprisingly fractured just below the knee. They maneuvered him cautiously onto his back, suspecting fractured ribs that had possibly punctured his lung. They placed a stiff plastic collar around his neck to stabilize his head before even attempting to remove his helmet although his head seemed the least problematic at the moment.

The injury that most concerned them had been hidden from view until Jones had been rolled onto his back and even from her vantage point, Emma could see it. When the motorcycle had struck the pavement at nearly 20MPH, the same force that had torn off the left handlebar and side mirror had also severed Jones' left hand at the wrist. Emma's breath hitched in her chest for a few seconds at the macabre sight before her. Her heart was suddenly breaking for this man she barely knew as she and the rescue crew did their best to keep onlookers back.

In minutes, the paramedics had him loaded into the back of the waiting ambulance and whisked him off to Storybrooke hospital. Emma had to remain at the accident scene for another half an hour while the damaged car and totaled motorcycle were carted away. She took photographs of the scene before anything was removed, then helped sweep up the broken safety glass and metal shards littering the street. Nearly an hour after the accident had occurred, she had to write out the traffic ticket and hand it to the traumatized teenaged driver before releasing the girl to her parents and opening the street to traffic again. Good thing this was a small town so she didn't have to contend with a gridlock of other vehicles. Now the folks of Storybrooke could get back to their regularly scheduled Valentine's Day plans while she returned to the station to write up her report. What a doozy this was going to be…

Long after her reports were filed and the station was locked up for the night, Emma found herself nearly dozing off in the hospital's waiting room. Officially, she was here to get a statement from Killian Jones when he was coherent enough to answer her questions. But that wasn't the only reason she was sitting here at nearly 11PM on Valentine's night. She just felt compelled to be here. Was it pity that he had no family to check in on him or was she feeling something else? She hardly knew him. She should be heading home after a long day at work - a day made even longer by the accident investigation and clean up... and all of those witness statements… What was she doing here?

She'd nearly drifted off to sleep when a nurse approached to let her know that Jones was alert. He was still in serious condition with three fractured ribs, a punctured left lung and ruptured spleen. What resonated with her most was the fact that the surgeon couldn't reattach his severed hand. Emma would be allowed a few minutes to get a statement, but she was warned that he'd probably be a little drowsy and might not be able to recall much of his ordeal. She didn't really care though. In truth, she had all of the information she needed. She knew he wasn't at fault for the accident. Maybe she just needed to tell him that in person...

Maybe she just needed to see for herself that he was going to be alright.

Emma wasn't sure if he was sleeping or just lying there with his eyes closed when she entered the room so she pushed the door closed as quietly as she could. She took a seat in a chair at the foot of the bed and just watched him for a few minutes. Even battered and bruised, he was still roguishly handsome and she had to chastise herself for staring (although if teachers had looked like this when she was in school, maybe she'd have actually paid attention).

Killian took a deep breath, grimacing at the accompanying discomfort. He recalled someone in blue scrubs telling him about broken ribs and something about a punctured lung, but the morphine-induced haze in his brain wasn't processing everything yet. There were flashes of a car and perhaps a collision? That was why everything hurt, right? He could hear a faint beeping sound off to his left and something was making his hand itchy. His eyes flickered open to take in his surroundings and he immediately remembered he was in a hospital room - and he wasn't alone.

He wasn't sure whether he should be embarrassed by his bedraggled appearance or grateful for the company as he noticed the woman across the room. An awkward grin crossed his lips as he tried to feign an air of self-confidence. He couldn't quite make out her face, but she wasn't dressed like any of the medical staff. All he really could see was a halo of blonde locks that had him questioning if she was an angel here to usher him into the afterlife, although were that the case, he shouldn't be in so much pain…

"I'm sorry," Emma apologized. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"No apologies necessary, lass," Killian replied as best he could, his voice deep and raspy as it escaped his parched throat. "Although I appear to be at a loss as to why you're here… I can't say that I'm my most dashingly handsome at the moment…"

Was he really this much of an egomaniac or was he genuinely trying to flirt with her right now?

"I'm Deputy Emma Swan of the Storybrooke Sheriff's department. You were involved in an accident this afternoon and I just wanted to follow up on your condition and get a statement from you, if you're feeling up to it?"

"Does everyone get such personalized attention from the Sheriff's deputies here?"

"Not everyone," she responded sheepishly, scrambling to think of something that wouldn't sound as though she held some weird obsession. "I uh…, I knew you didn't have any family here so… so I thought you might appreciate the company…"

"If you're not put off by my ragged appearance and obvious shortcomings, then yes, I appreciate the company."

"You honestly look pretty good for someone who just crashed his motorcycle into the side of a car."

"Ah...so it wasn't just a dream…," he sighed.

"Afraid not."

"My bike?"

"Totaled," she replied, immediately regretting her bluntness. "Sorry, I should have been more tactful with that."

"There's no need to be gentle. It's hardly my first tragedy…"

"How much do you remember about the incident?"

"I was riding down Main Street, heading home after work and a car pulled out in front of me. I tried to maneuver around the vehicle, but there wasn't time…"

"The driver didn't see you," Emma explained.

"No, they certainly did not…" he responded, now alert enough to realize that his left arm was immobilized and he vaguely recalled the doctor's words. Hand severely mangled and severed at the wrist by blunt force. Yeah - blunt force of striking asphalt at 20MPH…

"Are you alright?" Emma wondered as she sensed him growing quiet. "I should probably go…You suffered some pretty nasty injuries and I'm sure you need some rest…I'm really sorry they couldn't save your hand though…" She regretted those words the moment they crossed her lips. "Let me get out of here before I shove my foot in my mouth again…"

"No, please, Emma - I'd like you to stay…" he assured her. "If you're not horrified by the sight of me…"

"Should I be? You don't think I've seen bruised and bloodied accident victims before? Like I said earlier, you look pretty good for someone who just slammed into a car…"

"Why, Deputy - a gentleman might take that as you flirting with me..." Emma flushed with embarrassment as his statement caught her off guard. She glanced over to the bed to catch the lopsided smirk stretching across his face. Was this guy for real? "It may be that I'm a smidge under the influence of these painkillers, but dare I say that you do look quite beautiful this evening..."

"Now, who's doing the flirting, Mister?" she chuckled, the reddening of her cheeks even more evident now. "Maybe it's just some lovey-dovey Valentine's influence...wait...is it still Valentine's Day?" Emma questioned herself as she glanced up at the clock mounted on the wall. 11:48PM. "I guess it is still Valentine's Day - for a few more minutes at least…"

"Deputy Swan - exactly how long have you been sitting over there?" Killian wondered, not understanding why such a gorgeous woman would be spending Valentine's Day waiting for a wounded and now deformed man to awaken.

"Well...here? Maybe half an hour or so. They wouldn't let me in to see you until you woke up since I'm technically here to get your statement…"

"You didn't spoil your plans for this evening on my behalf, did you?"

"Uh, no," she replied shyly, probably more embarrassed to reveal she hadn't had a date than she'd been during their mutual flirtation moments ago. "I was on duty tonight because I was the only one in the department without a date."

"Ah, I see…," he mused. "Well, Love, if you're not horrified by the current state of my being, perhaps we could enjoy the remainder of this fabricated holiday together?"

"You're asking me to be your Valentine's date while you're lying there all banged up and half stoned on morphine?"

"If you'll have me…" he smiled as Emma stood, taking a few tentative steps closer to the bed while Killian extended his uninjured hand towards her. Their paths had crossed a couple of times since he'd arrived in Storybrooke, but he'd never really taken time to appreciate her beauty - her hair the color of spun gold and eyes that sparkled like twin emeralds.

She didn't know how to respond to his offer at first, eyes dipping to the floor as she contemplated the awkwardness of the situation. Would she be taking advantage of a wounded man if she said yes or would she look like a judgemental bitch if she said no? She hadn't even yet considered how unprofessional this could appear but to hell with it all, she told herself at last as she wrapped her fingers around his. "Alright - for the next ten minutes, I'll be your Valentine."

"Good," he grinned, a hopeful twinkle brightening his blue eyes. "And I promise you, the next one will be far better."

"You're pretty sure of yourself there, buddy," she teased him as a little giggle escaped her throat. "You don't even know me."

"Well then, I'd very much like to get to know you, Ms. Swan. I'm not going anywhere."

"I don't even know where to start…"

"How about like this: Greetings, I'm Killian Jones and it is a pleasure to meet you…"

Present Day

"Are you nearly ready, Love?" Emma heard Killian shouting from downstairs. "Our reservation is in twenty minutes and you can be assured that Tony won't hold the table…"

She shook her head as she rooted around inside her jewelry box in search of her other earring. She couldn't go without it, not tonight. The emerald solitaires were his favorite as he always insisted that they matched her eyes. It was pure BS but she still appreciated the flattery. All wouldn't be lost if she couldn't locate the earring though. She knew he'd be too preoccupied staring at her curves in the little black cocktail dress she'd bought for tonight and he wouldn't see it until she removed her coat at the restaurant. She'd never get him out of the house if he saw it too soon.

""I'm just looking for my earring. I'll be right down," she shouted back from their second floor bedroom. "Besides, I'm the Sheriff. Tony wouldn't dare give up my table tonight."

"Are you willing to take that chance?" she heard him ask as her fingertips finally located the second earring. She quickly donned it and checked her makeup in the vanity mirror one last time. Everything still looked perfect so she grabbed her black wool dress coat from atop the bed and tugged it on, buttoning it while descending the stairs.

At the bottom of the staircase, Killian was impatiently awaiting her, attired head to toe in black, save for the crimson hue of the vest she noticed peeking out from beneath his leather coat. Even three years later, he could still manage to hitch her breath in her throat and give her butterflies in all the right places.

"I took a chance on you, didn't I?" she answered his rhetorical question as she slipped her arms around his waist and pulled him close. "I still remember that night… Can you believe that its been three years already?" The same lopsided smirk that she remembered so well crossed his face just before his lips caught hers, responding with a passionate kiss that she didn't want to end. "Now we're really going to be late…" she laughed as they embraced each other breathlessly.

"To hell with dinner then," he responded, arms encircling her even tighter as he sported a salacious grin. "Happy Valentine's Day, Swan."

She pressed her lips back into his, not caring that her deep wine tinted lipstick was smearing everywhere. "Happy Valentine's Day, Killian," she murmured into his kiss.