Instead of heading for one of the Russian-themed restaurants close to the Cathedral, Emma and Killian made their way back to the car and decided to drive down to the coast, hoping that the promenade would be less busy now that evening was descending over the city.

While it wasn't easy to find somewhere to park close to the seafront, Killian eventually found a small parking lot attached to a rather promising looking restaurant, and at Emma's encouragement, swung the car into one of the free spaces there.

"Have you ever been here before?" he asked, as he held open the front door and watched while she ducked down under his arm to enter the building.

"Nope. I had no idea this place even existed."

"Then it'll be a nice first for both of us," he chuckled.

"As long as it servers burgers or steak, right?" Emma teased, and Killian smiled ruefully at her.

"Contrary to what you might believe, I do eat other things."

"What? Like hot dogs?"

Killian opened his mouth to disagree and then quickly snapped it shut when he realized that she was right - he did enjoy a good hot dog every now and then. Thankfully, he was spared the need to come up with something to say when they were approached by a server. She greeted them politely, then ushered them through to the small dining room.

Killian wanted to slap himself the moment he got a better look at the place. He could instantly understand why it wasn't as packed with tourists as the restaurants closer to the coastline had been. This was clearly a romantic spot for couples to enjoy some time alone. The dining room was lit only by flickering candles placed into sconces on the walls and in the center of each table. There were large floral arrangements on virtually every flat surface, and the music being piped around the building was soft and dreamy. It was the kind of place you went for a first date or to celebrate an anniversary, not for a meal with a friend.

He turned to look back at Emma, prepared to offer her the chance to choose somewhere else, but she wasn't looking his way.

"Here you are," their server declared, as she stopped just beside a small table next to the large windows at the back of the room. "Can I get you any drinks to start? Maybe a bottle of our house wine to share?"

Emma took her seat on one side of the table, and Killian figured it was best to take his own. The last thing he wanted to do was cause a commotion when other patrons were enjoying their quiet evening together.

"Could I get a glass of your house white wine?" Emma asked their server, before finally shifting her attention back his way. "Did you just want your usual?" she asked.

"Uh… yeah… yes, please," he mumbled distractedly.

The soft lighting and ambiance of the room made it look like Emma's skin was glowing. She looked far more beautiful than she ever had before under the romantic lighting of the restaurant, and Killian was finding it hard to pull his eyes away from her form.

"He'll have a Coke," she eventually said, when it must have become obvious that he wasn't going to give his own order to their server.

"Of course. Feel free to browse the menu while I'm gone," the other woman instructed.

Emma seemed to wait just long enough for their server to be out of hearing range before she leaned forward in her seat and asked, "Is everything okay?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah – yeah, it's fine," Killian assured her, as he tried to give his mind a shake to focus it back on what was happening away from that glow his friend was giving off. "I was just uh… we can go somewhere else if you don't want to stay here," he said, leaning in a little closer to whisper the words over the table.

"Why wouldn't I want to stay here?" Emma looked genuinely perplexed by the idea.

"Well, it's just… it's a little, uh – intimate, don't you think?"

"And the fairy lights and mountain views of the café back in Peillon aren't?"

"Huh. Well – I guess – when you put it like that," he conceded, leaning back in his seat as a smug smile worked its way onto Emma's face. "I just didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

"Trust me - I'll tell you if you do," Emma promised, as she reached for one of the menus to begin scanning the restaurant's offerings.

After hesitating for a second longer, Killian did the same.

For a long moment, a comfortable silence settled between the two of them, and Killian found himself relaxing further into his seat as that out-of-place feeling finally began lifting from his shoulders. The silence shattered when Emma gave a small gasp from the other side of the table.

"Oh my God, they have Escargots à la Bourguignonne!"

"Huh?"

"Escargots à la Bourguignonne," she repeated. "I've always wanted to try it, but none of the placed I've visited so far have had it on the menu."

Killian's brain was stuck on the word 'Escargot.' He knew he'd heard it somewhere before, and it took far longer than he would ever admit for the meaning to come flooding back to him. Once it did, however, he kind of wished it hadn't.

"Escargot?" he asked, just to be sure that was what she'd said. Emma nodded her head. "As in snails? You want to eat snails?"

"I don't particularly want to eat them," Emma explained, "But I also don't particularly want to eat cows, and yet, I tend to find steak just as tasty as the next person. I won't know how tasty I find snailsuntil I've tried them, so why not try them in France, a place well known for the way they prepare them?"

Killian sat in horrified silence for a long moment before he finally shook his head and said, "You're a little strange - has anyone ever told you that before?"

"Thank you!" Emma offered him a big beaming smile (that only seemed to enhance her glow) before she leaned across the table to whisper, "Normal's a little dull, don't you think?"

Killian had never really given much thought to the meaning of the word 'normal' before, but now that he was thinking about it, he could certainly understand why Emma would take 'strange' as a compliment.

"You'd get on well with my mother," he said, as the thought suddenly occurred to him. Alice Jones was the kind of woman who would also equate normal with being boring. Nothing about her life had ever been normal - and he knew there were very few parts of her past that his mother would ever wish to change.

"She sounds like she might be more fun to hang out with than her son," Emma teased.

"Hey!" Killian protested, and then watched as his companion for the evening dissolved into silent giggles on the other side of the table.

After they'd finished dinner, Killian made the short drive down to the parking lot nearest the promenade and swung the car into the first spot he found. Night was descending in earnest now, and as he lifted his head to look out towards the open water, he took a moment to scan the stars that were already visible in the sky.

"My, uh… my dad used to love astronomy," he said suddenly, as Emma made her way around the car to join him where he was leaning against the trunk. "I have these vague memories of him pointing out stars and constellations to us as a kid, but I can't remember what they look like now."

Emma chuckled a little, but there was something about that laugh that didn't feel right. It wasn't as carefree as it usually was.

"When did he pass away?" she eventually asked, and Killian finally pulled his eyes away from the sky to stare down at her. "You said, 'used to,'" she explained, and he nodded his head in understanding. She'd been able to tell far more about him in just a few short sentences than most of the people he'd ever met.

"I was ten. He had a heart attack."

"I'm so sorry to hear that," she said, and her tone was so genuine that for a moment, Killian's heart ached in his chest in a way he hadn't felt for decades. "For what it's worth, I'm sure he's looking down on you now, proud of the man you've grown into, Killian."

"I hope so."

Emma said nothing else but the way she was looking at him made Killian feel like everything was going to be just fine.

"Okay," he declared, pushing away from the car, "Shall we go and see how deserted the beach is tonight?"

"I think we should," she agreed, looping her arm through his as they made their way out of the small parking lot and onto the long promenade.

Without speaking, they made the unanimous decision to turn right and began heading down the walkway. There were still a fair few people milling about the space, coming in and out of the small stores that were still open along the coastal front and on the beach itself, but it was nowhere near as crowded as Killian had expected it to be.

They were only a couple of feet down the promenade when he felt a small hand wrap around his own and give a gentle tug. His eyes flew down first to look at where Emma's hand was holding his before he finally turned his attention up to her face.

"What's up?" he asked, as he made his way back to her side.

"I uh… I like that," she said suddenly, and used her free hand to point at something in the window.

Killian turned to stare in the direction that she was pointing and found that they were in front of what appeared to be a tattoo parlor.

"Which one?" he asked, as his eyes flew over the different designs in the window. He couldn't imagine Emma with most of them. They were bright and bold and large and looked far too harsh for the softness she seemed to radiate.

"This one," she said, as she tapped softly on the window, over a cardboard sketch of a small series of birds in flight. "I like this."

"That's, uh… that's pretty?" he said, because he wasn't really sure what else he could say. "Do you have any tattoos?"

The moment the question slipped past his lips, Killian realized that he already knew the answer. The small dark marks he'd seen on Emma's hip while they'd been hiking would be easily explained away by the presence of a tattoo.

"One. I got it on my eighteenth birthday," she said, still staring at the small design she'd fallen in love with.

"Is that a bird too?" Killian teased, and Emma's eyes finally left the shop window.

"It is," she told him, her eyes sparkling with humor. "It's a swan. Or, the outline of one at least. I'd show you, but I'm pretty sure that classes as indecent exposure, and I don't think either of us wants to end this trip in jail."

Killian's mind was stuck for a moment, trying to picture the outline of a Swan inked into Emma's soft skin somewhere close to her hip and how much of the rest of her body she'd have to expose to show it to him while she was wearing that dress. When he finally managed to drag his imagination out of the gutter, one question seemed to linger.

"Why a swan?"

"I, uh… I was obsessed with that story as a kid," Emma explained. "You know, the one where the ugly duckling grows into this beautiful swan. I used to tell myself that the ugly duckling was me. That I would grow up and become this beautiful swan, and my life would suddenly be perfect because of it. Obviously, as I've gotten older, I know that it's not biologically possible for a duckling to become a swan and, I've accepted the reality of my situation too but, the swan has always stuck with me because maybe if I work hard enough, I can still transform my life the way that little duckling transformed his."

"Well, for what it's worth, I can't ever imagine you being an ugly duckling," he told her, because it was the only thing he could think to say. No words he had would ever offer her the kind of comfort that story gave to her as a child, and the last thing he wanted to do was belittle her intelligence when it came to her acceptance of her situation.

"I was an oddball child," Emma chuckled, "But I think most of that was just my upbringing. I did flourish into a swan eventually, though," she said, finally turning her back on the shop window. "I gave myself the surname Swan when I was picking out my new name."

"Swan," he said, testing out the word on his tongue. "Emma Swan. I like it. It suits you."

"Thank you, Killian Jones," she chuckled, before giving his hand a small tug to keep them moving down the promenade. "Now… How about we go and sit on the beach for a while like real tourists?" she suggested.

Killian gave her a small, nervous chuckle and then nodded his head in agreement. He'd been so distracted by her words; he hadn't realized how long they'd been holding hands. Now that he was aware of it, he couldn't seem to concentrate on anything other than the feel of her hand wrapped tightly around his own. Thankfully, Emma didn't seem to notice.

Thanks for reading and reviewing.