Killian pulled up in front of his farmhouse, parked his old pick-up, and checked the bed to make sure his flowers had fared well throughout the short journey. Nodding in satisfaction, he gathered up his pots and headed inside just as the sun was beginning to set.

He liked his life; he really did. Out here at the farmhouse, he was surrounded by peace, quiet, and serene natural beauty. It was a simple life where he could tune out the hustle and bustle of modern life, where he could make a living doing something he enjoyed while still having plenty of time off to simply enjoy life.

Aye, life was good, but sometimes it was also lonely.

Killian had moved to Storybrooke five years ago after a nasty break up with his previous girlfriend, Milah. When she'd chosen to go back to her ex rather than stay with him, it had rocked his world and scarred him deeply. He'd wanted nothing more than to just...get away from anything that reminded him of her or their life together, and so he'd packed up and moved across the ocean.

He knew the decision had mystified Liam, but his brother had supported him, helped him and encouraged him to follow his dreams, whatever they may be.

Normally, during those rare moments when the loneliness hit, Killian could stave it off by losing himself in a good book, working, or watching a favored movie on TV, but tonight something was different.

He couldn't stop thinking about her.

How was it that five minutes with Emma Swan could play such havoc with his equilibrium? He was no stranger to beautiful, fascinating women. He had his share of dates whenever he wished; and yet, he could think of no woman-not even Milah-who had captured his imagination, his interest, maybe even his heart with the swiftness that Swan had.

Killian reheated a bowl of soup and paired it with bread, feeling the need for something warm and comforting for dinner. He thought of Emma as he ate, trying unsuccessfully to focus on the book he'd chosen as his dining companion. He thought of her as he soaked his tired muscles in a warm bath. He thought of her as he climbed into bed later that night.

Was his plan to meet her again truly a good idea? Would it meet with her approval, or would she find him presumptuous? Would she see his offering as romantic or as intrusive?

One thing was for sure, he thought as the rising sun shone in upon him the next morning, waking him with its warmth and brightness-he needed to at least try with her, or he'd forever wonder what might have been.

And so he set to work pairing a lovely pink amaryllis-symbolizing beauty but a value beyond mere appearance-and white tulips, to show his desire for forgiveness. He filled out the bouquet with forget-me-nots the color of his eyes and buttercups, like the tiny tattoo he'd seen on her wrist.

Perhaps he was overthinking all of this, and perhaps she'd reject his offering and slam her door in his face, but perhaps-perhaps this could be the first step toward something extraordinary.

"Emma I love them! It was so thoughtful of you to send me flowers for my birthday!"

Emma could hear the smile in her sister's voice over the phone. The smile and the relief. It was the relief that made Emma's guilt rear its ugly head again.

Mary Margaret had been trying so very, very hard ever since the two of them reconnected a year ago, but it was difficult for Emma to trust; to let her walls down and to let anyone in. That's what happens when everyone has abandoned you all your life.

Though they were sisters, Mary Margaret and Emma couldn't have had more different childhoods. Their mother, Cora was...well she was a real piece of work. Once she'd given birth to Mary Margaret, she had her one, perfect daughter, and she'd never wanted another child.

Which is why becoming pregnant with Emma two years later was not a cause for celebration, but a problem to be solved. Emma had been put in the system from the start, and while she didn't like to dwell on the painful details, suffice it to say it was nothing like the idyllic childhood Mary Margaret had.

It was sheer coincidence that the two sisters met again last year. Emma, looking for a new life out of the city after a nasty breakup with her boyfriend Walsh, had taken a job as the sheriff of the tiny seaside town of Storybrooke, Maine.

The tiny seaside town where Mary Margaret just happened to live.

Mary Margaret had been expansive in her affections from the beginning. She loved fiercely, and once she found someone, she never gave up. Never.

Mary Margaret hadn't learned she had a sister until she was an adult, given the fact that she was only a toddler when Emma was born, and the second daughter was never spoken of. Once Mary Margaret knew of Emma's existence, she'd worked for years trying to locate her, feeling to her bones the pain her baby sister must have felt. She wanted to do something, to make good on the debt she felt her family owed.

They'd first met during a "Careers in Storybrooke" convocation at the local elementary school where Mary Margaret worked as a fifth grade teacher. Emma had been invited to speak to the school about her life as a sheriff, and she'd begun her talk by sharing about her difficult childhood. She'd hoped that by doing so, she'd give the kids hope; show them that if you work hard enough, if you want something hard enough, you can overcome even a thoroughly crappy childhood.

Emma's story had struck a nerve in Mary Margaret. She'd pulled Emma aside after the convocation, and through a few very specific questions, she'd learned the truth: Emma Swan was her long lost sister.

Emma had rebuffed her every effort to reconnect until finally Mary Margaret's husband, David Nolan, had found her sitting by the beach one day and convinced her to give Mary Margaret a chance. Their relationship had been good ever since then.

Good, but new and fragile.

Mary Margaret seemed to walk on eggshells around her, afraid that at any moment she might sever the tenuous connection they'd built. It was a big reason Emma had been insistent on sending her sister flowers on her birthday. She wanted to let Mary Margaret know that she trusted her-loved her even. She knew that whatever wrong might have been done to her in the past, it wasn't Mary Margaret's doing.

She wanted her sister to know they were family, and Emma wasn't going anywhere.

"I'm glad you liked them," Emma said. "Sorry they were late. Mix up at the florist's."

Mary Margaret chuckled. "Oh I know all about that."

"You do?"

"Yeah," she said, her tone shifting to something speculative, maybe even scheming. "The bouquet was delivered personally by the shop's owner. I couldn't help but notice he's pretty cute."

Emma's heart rate picked up at the mention of the shop owner. Mary Margaret was wrong about him. He wasn't "cute" he was drop-dead gorgeous-sinfully hot. Emma hadn't really registered this fact in the moment she met him, of course. She was too angry, too busy telling him off to notice his far-above-average physical characteristics.

But afterwards, when she'd gotten home and her anger had cooled, she'd realized two distinct things. First, she rather regretted her angry outburst. Clearly it was a simple mistake that the shop owner was already busy rectifying. It wasn't a personal affront or anything like that. Emma knew she'd overreacted, and her overreaction was borne of her complicated relationship with her family.

Second, there had been definite interest in the shop owner's-Killian Jones'-eyes during their brief encounter. Emma knew she was an attractive woman, and she wasn't unused to receiving male interest. She wasn't, however, used to feeling an almost overwhelming reciprocal pull to the guy, but there was something different about Killian, something that told her there was potential there. Something that told her if she gave in to the mutual attraction, it could be the start of something so achingly beautiful the likes of which she'd never known before.

Not that there was any chance of that now, of course. She'd pretty much blown any opportunity the two of them had to explore the...whatever it was...between them the moment she'd handed him his ass for screwing up her flower delivery. Chances were good he'd never want to see her again.

The thought sat heavy in her stomach.

"Yeah, I guess," Emma said uncomfortably. "But it's not like we'll ever see each other again anyway."

On the other side of the line, Mary Margaret chuckled. "I wouldn't be so sure of that, Emma."

"Why not?"

"Because he already wants to see you again," Mary Margaret said simply. "He told me he has something for you, a tangible apology of sorts. I hope I didn't overstep, but I gave him your address."

Emma's heart pounded. "He...he's coming here?"

"Any minute, I'd expect," Mary Margaret confirmed.

As if to punctuate her point, the doorbell rang at that precise moment.

"Emma, was that your doorbell?!" Mary Margaret asked, excitement in her voice. "Go get it! I bet it's him! Afterwards you have to call me back and give me all the details!"

Emma took a deep breath, trying to calm her suddenly frayed nerves, said a quick goodbye to her sister, and then opened her apartment door.

"I rather think an apology is in order, Swan," the man himself said in his devastatingly sexy British accent. He pulled a large, beautiful bouquet from behind his back and presented it to her. "Please accept this as a token of my regret for yesterday's debacle."

Notes:

-A big thank you again to jrobi64 for her beta services! I'd also like to thank the ladies on the CS Movie Night discord for suggestions about flowers for Killian's apology arrangement.

-Up next: (Next Thursday as long as the muse cooperates) We pick up right where this chapter left off. What will happen when Killian gives Emma his bouquet? Will she let him in? Will they explore their mutual attraction?