Adam made a habit of closing the curtains of his room in the late afternoon, or else he would torture himself waiting for the sun to dip beneath the horizon. Those first years after the curse had been cast, he would stand at the window, hands clenched against the windowsill, waiting to regain his human form for the night. The relief of being human again shattered at daybreak, when the sun had fully risen and he was once more trapped in the form of a hideous beast. Perhaps the curse would have been easier to bare if Fiona had turned into a regular animal, like a lion or ox, but he had no name for what she had turned him into.

Over the years he had grown use to his inhuman form and the transitions that occurred twice a day - and that was terrifying in its own way. He had his books, he had Tiger Lily, even his mother still sent the occasional letter, but his life had become a monotonous cycle of dreading his nightly transformation; occasionally broken up by wayward travelers who wandered into the castle and became entangled in the curse.

When that girl, the merchant's daughter, took her father as part of the curse, something changed. She didn't go mad from the isolation, for one, and she had an unusually strong interest in him. No one else had made any effort to get to know him; he couldn't even remember the last time someone had asked for his name. Still, he didn't allow himself to indulge in the fantasy that she could become something even resembling a friend. She persisted, nonetheless, in her quest to tease out some sort of comradeship between them. Despite his best efforts and all the intelligence he'd been gifted with, a certain fondness for her had crept up on him.

He hadn't even noticed until the morning she found him in the library asleep in his chair with an ancient astrology tome open in his lap. Before he realized he was now in his beast form, he had panicking thinking Fiona could now get what she wanted from him. Never before had the sight of his hairy paws and hideous, black claws brought him so much relief. Belle remain firmly outside Fiona's grasp, for now. How odd, he had thought as her warm, brown eyes took into his monstrous figure without fear or judgement. Somehow she had gone from the merchant's daughter, to Mlle. Maurice, to Rosalie, to Belle. His feelings for surprised him, as if he'd failed a notice a knife lodged six inches deep into his chest.

Like a fool, he gave her his name. She asked her his story, and he gave her that as well. If he didn't know better, he would have thought she cast a spell on him. All those months of avoiding her and feigning aloofness blew away like smoke. He couldn't deny her anything. She listened without interrupting, concern overshadowing her every expression. When he had finished his tale, she rose from her seat and wrapped her thin, frail arms around his heavy shoulders. He leaned into her touch, the first hug he had received in years.


Emma found Killian standing outside Dr. Hopper's office with a takeout bag from Granny's after she had finished her first session.

"Graham mentioned that you didn't have a chance to eat dinner between your shift and your first meeting with Dr. Hopper," he explained.

"Thanks," Emma smiled. His fingers brushed hers for a moment as she took the bag from him, and she wished for another excuse to touch him.

"How do you think it went?" he asked as he walked her to her car.

"Definitely better than the last time I saw a therapist," Emma snorted. She immediately regretted it when she saw the surprise coloring Killian's face. She explained, lamely, "When I was in the system, I got labelled "emotionally disturbed", so I sometimes had to attend court-mandated therapy. Other times they tossed me in a psychiatric ward because there weren't enough foster homes and they needed somewhere to put me. That was over ten years, though."

"And it didn't do you much good?"

Emma winced, "I think it may have made things worse. I mean, I have nothing therapy, obviously, but none of the therapists I saw as a child seemed to really care about much I was hurting inside. Their only was concern was training me to behave how my social workers and foster parents wanted me to, to get me to stop being a 'problem child'."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that," Killian replied sincerely. By now they had reached Emma's car, but neither wanted her to leave just yet. "I... I think I have an idea where you're coming from. When I was a lad, my mother lost her job and it completely devastated her. She left home to find work elsewhere, leaving me with my pa - my stepfather, technically, but I always thought of him as my pa. It was a tough transition, and I became quite the terror. My stepfather didn't care that I missed my mum, he just saw me a nuisance. He - before all that, he was a great father, let me tell you - but after all that it was like he became a different person. He couldn't stand the sight of me or my brother. After a while, I started blaming myself for how he treated us. It took years for me to realize he should have loved us regardless."

"Oh, Killian, I'm sorry that happened to you," Emma said softly. "You and your brother didn't deserve that."

"I know that now, but when your young, it can hard to tell when people aren't treating you the way they should."

Emma smiled sadly, "Yeah, that's exactly it. I just to be so desperate to have a family, I thought maybe I was doing something wrong, that's why I never got adopted. Turns out the system just fucking sucks." She paused, biting her lip. "I'm glad I have you, Killian."

"I'm glad to have you to Emma," he replied, sincerity radiating around him like a halo. If Emma was the slightest bit bolder, she would have kissed him.

But she wasn't, so she didn't. "I should get going. I need to help my kids their homework."

"Right," Killian nodded. She could almost feel his disappointment.

"Emma Swan? Emma Swan!" a thin, weak voice echoed through the empty parking lot.

Emma and Killian turned to see a slender figure limping toward them. As the person moved under a streetlamp, the light revealed the haggard, tired face of a young woman. Icy blue eyes stared out at them above a red silk scarf that had once been beautiful.

"P-Priscilla?" Emma froze in disbelief. As she kept limping, Priscilla nearly slipped on a patch of ice. Emma shook herself out of her shock and rushed to her side; Killian came close behind. "You're still alive?"

"I sure hope so," Priscilla slurred. Her tone suggested she was being sincere. "I've had a...a..." She collapsed in Emma's arms.

In an instant, Killian had his phone out and dialed emergency services. As he called for an ambulance, Emma tried to keep Priscilla awake. "What happened to you? Who did this?" Emma asked. She shook Priscilla slightly in an effort to keep her awake.

"I don't know," Priscilla answered with a labored breath, her eyelids drooping. "It was so dark, I never saw who took..."

"Hey, hey, stay awake now." Emma begged.

Killian got off the phone and knelt beside them, taking off his jacket to wrap around Priscilla. "You're gonna be alright, love. Just stay awake 'till the ambulance gets here."


Emma stepped off the ambulance and watched as the medical staff carry Priscilla into triage on a stretcher. She had already given the EMTs what little she knew of Priscilla's condition, but she wanted to stay by her side. When Emma had crashed her car her first night in Storybrooke, Priscilla had done that for her, and now she could return the favor.

"Do you know anyone we should call?" Nurse Rojas asked Emma as Dr. Whale performed a physical examination of Priscilla. "There's no next of kin or emergency contact listed."

"Apart from Sheriff Graham, no. We checked her background after she went missing: she didn't have any living family and no friends that we know of," Emma replied sadly. She felt uncomfortable about how well that described her before she came to Storybrooke.

"I'll call the mayor. She's the default emergency contact in these cases."

"She is?" Emma narrowed her eyes. "When I first came to Storybrooke, I got in an accident and no one knew who I was, but no one called Regina to check on me."

Nurse Rojas shrugged, "Its a new policy. She thought it was for the best."

A faint alarm went off in Emma's head. Regina's every move made her skin crawl.

Emma took out her phone and called Mary, getting her on the four ring. "Hey, I'm at the hospital - I'm okay - I just wanted to let you know I can't make it home tonight."

"What on Earth happened?" Mary asked. The television played the nightly news in the background; Priscilla's miraculous return hadn't been broadcast yet. "Is someone hurt?"

"I found Priscilla Jefferson; or, more accurately, she found me. I need to stay in the hospital until she wakes up. Do you mind putting the kids to bed? I promise, I'll owe you a favor."

Mary scoffed, "Emma, don't be silly. They're practically my kids too. I can't believe she's actually alive."

"Yeah, me neither. I don't understand what's going on but I'm gonna get to the bottom of it."

"Okay, just promise me you'll get some rest," Mary insisted. "You've working hard since morning and I know you haven't been sleeping well lately."

Emma bit her lip. She had assumed no one noticed. "I will, promise. Tell Ava and Nicky goodnight for me."

"I will. Bye Emma."

"Bye."

Killian arrived at the station not long afterwards, carrying the now-cold takeout. Only then did Emma notice how hungry she was.

"How's she doing?" he asked.

"Stable, according to Dr. Whale," Emma answered with a nervous glance to the door of Priscilla's hospital room. "But we're still waiting for for some test results. She just fell asleep."

"Good. I don't suppose there's a microwave somewhere in this hospital," Killian said, awkwardly holding up the bag of takeout. Emma's stomach growled fiercely as the scent of onion rings hit her nostril.

"There's one in the cafeteria. I could take you there," a passing nurse offered. Emma and Killian accepted.

Ten minutes later, they sat at one of the small plastic tables in the hospital cafeteria, Emma wolfing down her re-headed burger and onion rings and Killian idling his way through a bag of chips he'd gotten from the vending machine. Dr. West sat on the other end of the cafeteria with a bowl of stew and a large cup of coffee making polite conversation with a family sitting one table over. Otherwise the cafeteria was an empty shell of grey tiles and dim florescent lighting. Huge window opened to a small side garden, but night had fallen so dark that they resembled black walls.

"I can't wrap my mind around it," Emma finally said, breaking through the silence. "There was a human heart in the woods, with her DNA; how can she possibly still be alive? The only explanation I can think of it that the heart belong to someone else, but Priscilla's DNA somehow got on it. But that would be someone else was killed and there have been no other missing person cases or mysterious murders in months."

"I've been thinking," Killian began. He paused and licked his lips. "There's a lot about Storybrooke that isn't normal, I'm sure you've noticed by now. Have you considered that it could be explained, but understanding would take a great leap of faith?"

"What are you saying?" Emma asked after wiping the grease from her mouth with a napkin.

"I believe Henry's right about this town being cursed," Killian signed. "Actually, I'm certain of it."

Emma laughed, "Thanks, I needed something to lighten the moon. That's evening just been a lot of handle."

Killian's expression didn't change. "I'm perfectly serious. Remember when I told you I was from New York? That wasn't entirely true. I've been living in the New York since I woke up somewhere on the streets of Brooklyn, not knowing how I got there. I was born and raised in another realm called the Enchanted Forest. The same Enchanted Forest in Henry's book."

"Okay, its not funny anymore."

"Like I said, I'm not trying to be funny."

Emma leaned away from him, shoulders square and mouth set in an apprehensive frown.

"The job my mother lost? She was a warlock in service to one of the royal families of the Enchanted Forest," Killian went on. "When she was exiled, she had to be become a witch instead. Neither my brother or I inherited any of her magical abilities, but we admired her for what she could do. But when things starting going downhill-" He stopped and stared hard at Emma. Something like comprehension appeared on his face. "How long have you said you've been having these nightmares? There might be a magic cause."

"What is your problem?" Emma interrupted. "You can't honestly expect me to believe any of this."

"I am being as honest with you as I've been in a very, very long time."

"Why?" Emma challenged, "Why be honest with me of all people?"

He pinned her in place with a look that begged for understanding, fear and hope swimming in his deep, brown eyes. "Emma, I-"

"Emma?" Graham burst in the doors of the cafeteria. "The nurse mentioned you'd be here."

Killian looked away.

"Hey," Emma stood up, tearing her eyes to her boss. "Took you long enough to get here."

"I was on patrol," Graham shrugged. "I'm gonna take your statement for the official record." He looked at Killian. "Is he a witness too?"

"Yes," Killian replied tartly before Emma could respond.

Graham raised an eyebrow at Killian's tone, but all he said was "Alright. Let's get started."


A bubbly sensation tickled her stomach as Belle placed heavy curtains over the windows of her room. The dying light of the setting sun vanished behind the velvet, leaving on a single candle to brighten the room. She took a deep breath in an effort to calm herself, but she could help the wave of excitement and nervousness that overtook her. Garbed in a simple blue dress, she sat on one of the overstuffed chairs in her sitting room, feet curled under her, waiting for Adam's arrival.

As the sun set further and the room became a deeper shade of black, Belle worried that he had changed his mind. Maybe he was playing some kind of trick on her, maybe he was toying with her. He must have grown profoundly bored in his years alone in this mansion and perhaps he thought it would be amusing to-

A knock on the door dispelled Belle's worries. Her mood lightened and she blew out the candle with the quick huff. "Coming!" she called, as she walked to the door and closed her eyes. Her hand shook as she turned the knob. She had never had a man in her private chambers before whom she was not related to, but she trusted Adam. She wanted... she couldn't quite say what she wanted.

"Belle, it's me," he said, his voice entirely familiar.

She couldn't see his face, that was vitally important, but she could touch him. She held out a shaky hand to him. He took it; no fur, no claws, just soft, warm human skin. It felt strangely unnatural; in her mind's eye he was still a beast. Belle clasped the offered hand with both of her own, examining it with her fingertips.

"Is my hand really that interesting?" Adam joked.

"Everything about you is interesting," Belle replied quietly. He had no reply. She pulled him inside and he closed the door behind them. "Does it hurt when you change?"

"Not physically," he muttered.

"What she did to you is inexcusable."

"I don't want to talk about Fiona right now."

"Alright," Belle nodded. She took both his hands in hers, then releases them so she could touch his wrists, his arms, his shoulders. "You're shorter now!"

"You didn't really think I saw eight feet tall, did you?" Adam teased.

She run her hands down his chest, marveling at the beat of his heart through his shirt. "You can touch me too, if you want." His sharp intake of breath made her skin sizzle.

"I don't think that would be appropriate. Tiger Lily raised to keep my hands to myself."

Belle tilted her head, not sure he could see her in the darkness as she could not see him. "Are you suggesting my father didn't raise me right?"

"Oh course, I just-"

"I'm teasing," Belle giggled. "I want you to touch, but you don't have to if you don't want to."

She reached up and traced the curve of his jaw, a faint layer of stubble brushing the back of her hand. She moved higher, moving her fingertips along the lines of his face, trying to imagine how his human faced. She quite liked his nose and the set of his cheekbones, but she couldn't put them together. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No," he whispered.

Belle twirled her finger around the outer edge of his ear and playfully tugged on the lobe. She let her hand fall to his neck and dance along his pulse until it reached his collar. To her surprise, a large hand landed on her hip. She gasped.

Adam dropped his hand immediately, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be, I liked it." Belle responded. He was just as nervous as her, Belle realized, if not more so.

He placed his hand back on her hip, then higher on her waist. His other hand touch down the side of her face, the back brushing against her hair, before resting just under her jaw. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Being my friend. Being so patient with me. I never I'd have someone like you in my life." Adam leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.


"Where am I?"

Emma's head snapped up from her third cup of coffee. She had tried sleeping, but between the uncomfortable metal chair and the nightmares, she had only managed to catch of few snippets of rest. "Priscilla? You're in the hospital."

Emma set her cup down and stood over Priscilla, who lay on the hospital bed with her eyes closed. Her chest moved up and down in a slow, steady rhythm. According to while, she was fine apart from minor injuries: a few scratches, a bruise on her forehead, and some rope burns on her wrists and ankles. She had been kidnapped, not murdered. But someone had.

"You brought me here."

"Me and Killian."

"Who?"

"Ah, right," Emma mentally kicked herself. "He showed up in town not long after you disappeared."

Priscilla slowly opened her eyes, the bright blue startling against her dark skin. "A newcomer, like you? How did he get past the curse."

"There's no curse," Emma snapped. In a soften tone, she continued. "He rode in a motorcycle, like a normal person. Which he is, completely normal and non-magical."

"How do you keep doing that? Don't you get tired?"

"Doing what?"

Priscilla blinked slowly, "Lie to yourself. Refuse to see what's right in front of you."

"You're on a lot of meds right now," Emma smiled tightly. "Maybe in a little while, you'll be more clearheaded."

"Cut the bullshit, Swan." Priscilla laughed bitterly. She looked frail under the hospital blankets, skeletal after her ordeal and covered in bandaged, but she had an underlying strength that was impossible to miss. "How can you still not believe, after all this time. You know its real, you just don't want to admit it. Why? What are you afraid of?"