Killian Jones took a deep breath, noting the salty tang of the sea breeze. The scent brought him comfort, a balm to his wounded soul. Some of his most treasured memories involved holidays to the sea with his mum. He remembered something his mum said to him on one such holiday ages and ages ago when he was naught but a tiny lad of four or five.

"You feel things so deeply, Killian," she'd said, stroking his hair. "When you love, you love with your entire being. It's a beautiful thing, and those you love are lucky indeed, but be careful. There will be heartache in your future, and when you lose someone you love, I fear it will hit you harder than most."

He'd learned the truth of her statement less than a year later when she had succumbed to a fast moving, particularly virulent form of cancer. He'd been inconsolable for weeks, unable to understand why his mum had left him.

But life had gone on, and like many children, he'd proven to be resilient, turning to his older brother, his hero, Liam for help and support. He thanked the gods every day that Liam had never left him-either willingly like his deadbeat father or through death like his mother.

Love was rather rare in Killian's life. He'd taken his mother's words to heart, only giving his heart when he felt it was in safe keeping.

That was, until he met Milah.

She was beautiful, vibrant, full of life-and unfortunately quite married. Liam had warned him against getting involved with a woman who wasn't free to give him her heart, but Killian was snared before he even fully understood what was happening. He had fallen hard and he had fallen fast, and he found he was helpless to resist the gorgeous woman who had captured his heart.

They were happy for a few months, so happy that they'd begun discussing forever. Milah had sworn she'd leave her husband, that she wanted to be with him. Killian had begun shopping for rings.

And then, as suddenly as it began, it all went to hell. She'd come to meet him one night looking as grave and uncomfortable as he'd ever seen her.

"Killian, I do love you," she said, "but what we discussed in the past, I think we've always known they're pipe dreams. Robert's my husband, the father of my son. We were meant to be. I'm sorry, but I have to end this now. Robert got a new job across the country, and we both think it's the perfect opportunity for us to make a go at this, to start fresh. I'm sorry, but this is goodbye."

It hit him hard, so hard it felt like there was a physical weight on his chest. How did one pick up the pieces of their heart when it had been shattered into a fine powder? Liam had tried to be supportive, he really had, but Killian had known it was always on the tip of his tongue to tell Killian "I told you so."

After a couple months of misery, Killian decided he'd had enough. He needed a change, even if it was no more than a few weeks' vacation. And so he'd packed up and taken the first flight he could arrange from his home in England to the States. He'd rented a car and simply begun driving, deciding not to stop until he found somewhere that might offer him peace.

He found it in the small, quaintly named seaside town of Storybrooke, Maine. There was such a magical feel about this berg. It was a place he could perhaps run into that peace he'd been sadly lacking since…

Killian stopped abruptly as he collided with something, someone in front of him. He heard a swift, harsh, feminine curse, and looked up to find himself face to face with the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen - riotous blonde curls pulled up into a high ponytail, green eyes, currently narrowed in anger, a red leather jacket over a white tank top. Her jeans were so tight to her slim figure they looked painted on.

For a long moment, Killian could do nothing but stare, open-mouthed at the vision before him, so gobsmacked he could barely remember his own name.

The woman growled in frustration as she looked down at the grocery bag she'd dropped upon impact. "Seriously?" she asked. "You're just gonna stand there like an idiot?"

Killian shook his head as he came back to himself, his cheeks reddening at his rudeness. "My apologies, love," he said, stooping down to gather up the spilled contents of her bag. "It appears I wasn't paying attention to where I was going."

"You think?" she retorted with a roll of her eyes.

For a moment the two worked together while Killian desperately wracked his addled brain for something-anything-to say that might allow him to remain in this woman's presence longer, but he was coming up blank.

"Well….thanks for your help," she said finally, when the groceries were back in their bag.

"Thanks for letting me help," he replied rather lamely.

"Yeah, well maybe next time you might pay a little more attention and avoid this kind of situation altogether," she suggested as she pushed past him and quickly disappeared from his sight.

She might have disappeared from his sight, but she most assuredly did not disappear from his mind. Thoughts of the beautiful blonde followed him through the streets of Storybrooke as he made his way closer and closer to the beach.

So consumed was he with his chance encounter that he didn't even realize he'd wandered into a seedy part of town until he heard the sounds around him.

The sounds of an altercation.

Killian looked up to see several big, burly men brutally beating a man with black hair and blue eyes. The man fought valiantly, but it was at least six to one. He didn't stand a chance. Killian fished his cell phone from his pocket, intending to call the authorities, get some help, but he knew the victim before him didn't have time to wait for police to arrive.

Killian had to intervene.

He charged into the fray, pulling first one, and then another ruffian from the man being beaten, but his efforts seemed to have no effect on the attackers.

No effect, that is, save to divert some of their wrath toward him. Killian grunted as the first blow landed on the side of his head, and he dropped his phone to the ground. He fought back with everything in him, pleased to note he'd gotten in a fair few punches of his own, but it soon became obvious that he was hopelessly outmanned.

Sometimes retreat was one's only option.

Killian turned, hoping to find help for himself and for the other victim, but he'd only made it a few steps when he felt a sharp pain to the back of his head...and then everything went black.

Notes:

-Hi there and welcome to my story for the 2021 CSSNS! This story was kind of inspired by an experience I had. Most of the time if I get a phone call from a number I don't recognize, I just let it go to voicemail, figuring if they really want to talk to me, they'll leave a message (and if they're a telemarketer...they won't). One day I got a message from an unknown number, and they did leave a message. The message was basically nothing but dead air. For some reason, I decided to try to find out who the number belonged to, and I came to find out the number belonged to someone who had died six months ago. Now logically, that probably means someone else has the dead guy's cell phone now, but it brought up the possibility of a new story. What if Emma got a phone call from Killian Jones, who she finds out died several months ago...and it isn't a mistake? Thus this story was born.

-This story has 4 chapters plus this prologue and epilogue, and the good thing is that it's already completely written. This means I can set (and stick to) a posting schedule! I plan to update this story every Wednesday and Sunday until it's finished.

-Up next: Emma gets a strange phone call from an unknown number. What she finds out about it leads her on a journey that will completely change her life.