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Chapter 1 - First Meeting

Pain.

Horror.

Immeasurable grief.

All these emotions coursed through him every time he woke up from this particular nightmare. His missing hand throbbing with phantom pain, his throat dry from crying out, his eyes stinging from unshed tears.

He didn't need a psych degree to understand that his mind played tricks on him whenever he fell asleep. Maybe it was the way his brain tried to cope with the fact that he was missing one hand. Because as was the case with many of his dreams, this particular nightmare didn't make any sense.

He'd never been aboard a ship that was clearly occupied by real pirates. Not to mention the weird creature who cackled like a maniac while squeezing a pulsing heart in his hand.

Every single time, Milah crumpled in front of his feet while he was bound to the mast, unable to help her in any way. He could only watch when the creature who looked a lot like her husband squeezed her heart harder and harder. And then the bonds were gone, but he couldn't do anything other than drop to his knees beside her and listen to her whisper how much she loved him before the man who clearly wasn't a mere human crushed her heart and killed her.

Every time his heart seemed to be crushed right alongside hers, the ache only overshadowed by the raw physical pain when the monster hacked off his hand and disappeared in a cloud of purple smoke.

And every single time, in the seconds before he woke up, sweat-soaked and trembling, a blonde woman appeared in his peripheral view. Just a blurry vision. A woman he felt drawn to, a woman who seemed to be dear to his heart. These last few seconds of this particular dream were the only ones that seemed to be a real memory. He didn't know the woman, and he was absolutely certain he'd never met her before. But each time he woke up from that particular dream with his heart beating wildly in his chest, the same whispered words lingered in his ears.

It was just a kiss.

Emma jerked up in bed, her hands twitching violently, her breath coming out in shallow pants. The room was dark around her. The kind of darkness that told her that she'd jolted awake in the dead of night.

Pushing the thin blanket off her body, she tried to get rid of the claustrophobic feeling that wrapped around her. Her heart tried to hammer right out of her chest, and she rubbed her hand over it as she swung her legs out of the bed and stood up.

When she reached the window, she pressed her hand against the cool glass, looking over the silent streets of Storybrooke. Nothing moved. No sound was audible. Everything and everyone was asleep, nature and men.

Closing her eyes, she let her head drop against the pane, drawing in measured breaths to calm her racing heart. But her skin still prickled as if the magic she'd wielded in her dream still coursed through her system.

A low chuckle slipped from her lips because...magic? Really?

Of course, she knew it was just a dream. But it always felt so damn real. It felt more like a memory and not a dream.

As if she'd really had lit a candle with only the power of her mind. As if her ex, Neal, had really been thrown against a tree by Pan's shadow, by all things. As if her magic had saved them all. Because in her dream Neal hadn't been the only one she'd saved. Not that that fact alone didn't open a can of worms she definitely didn't want to take a closer look at. The therapists she was forced to see while being in jail had tried to 'shrink her up', probably getting excited that she was such a 'perfect case' with her past as a foster kid and ending up in jail. Seeing Neal in her dreams was bad enough, but seeing him wasn't the problem. The other man was. She felt another presence there in her dreams, her anguished voice being ripped out of her throat when she cried out a name. A ridiculous name, to boot. As if any grown man would actually be called 'Hook'.

The most disturbing part of her dream was the last few seconds when she thought she would finally be able to see the face of the mystery man. But before she could get close enough to really see him, he always disappeared in the thicket of the trees surrounding them. All she remembered when she woke up was the way the long, black leather coat he wore swished around his legs. And before she lost sight of him completely, the sparkle of light caught on something metallic, something that looked a lot like a metal hook. A hook the man wore in place of his left hand.

She never saw his face. Never saw him clearly. She seemed to always only catch a glimpse of him, his whole body blurry as if he was surrounded by a thin sheet of fog. The moment she tried to get closer to him he always disappeared and she woke up with a start.

Every single time after waking from that particular dream a part of her brain tried to tell her that she knew that man, while the other part tried to shrug it off as nothing more than a weird dream. But every single time, a shiver ran down her spine when whispered words seemed to float through the air, spoken in a hushed, accented voice.

The words never changed. The certainty in his voice always the same. And those words never ceased to shook her down to her core.

When I win your heart, Emma - and I will win it - It won't be because of any trickery. It will be because you want me.

She really needed to find a way to make these weird dreams stop. They always seemed to leave her feeling completely exhausted in the morning. Her fatigue just dragged on while she had to fight to get Henry out of bed so that he wouldn't be late for school. On the weekends, he was always awake before she was, running into her room and shaking her shoulder until she reluctantly rolled out of bed to make them breakfast. The slow start and Henry's excited chatter combined with two cups of coffee always did the trick of clearing her mind and letting her share into the excitement Henry practically exuded about whatever plan they had for the day. But school days...they were a pain in the ass. Two cups of coffee didn't do her any good, the hasty breakfast she threw together for her and Henry left her even more adrift. Getting her head in the game after one of those nights was challenging, to say the least.

So yeah, those dreams had to go away somehow. She needed some uninterrupted sleep before she collapsed from exhaustion.

After taking Henry to school she decided that swinging by Granny's Diner was an absolute necessity if she wanted to get through the day. The smell of coffee, bacon, and baked goods that assaulted her the moment she stepped over the threshold always soothed her frazzled mind. Today was no exception.

"You look like death warmed over," Ruby greeted her when she slipped onto the barstool in the corner. Her favorite spot.

"Well, thank you very much for that compliment, Miss Lucas," Emma huffed, shooting her best friend a scathing look, not that it had ever worked on her before.

"Long night?" Ruby asked, cocking one eyebrow as she grinned at her.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Ruby." Emma let out a deep sigh, a part of her wishing she felt exhausted because she'd had a sweaty and satisfying romp between the sheets with a man who knew his way around a woman's body. It had definitely been a while since she had fallen into bed with such a man. Pressing her fingers against her temples, she let out another sigh, hoping the slight throbbing wouldn't turn into a full-blown headache. "Just some weird dreams."

"About the hunk in the leather coat?"

"Yeah, though didn't we already establish that I have no clue if he is a good-looking guy or not? Considering I can never see him clearly enough?"

"He's a hunk. I'm sure," Ruby replied with utmost confidence, clacking her red fingernails against the counter. Emma looked up at her, frowning when she saw the dreamy smile that suddenly pulled her friend's lips upwards. She knew that smile. "Speaking of hunks...have you seen the new priest yet?" Ruby pressed one hand over her chest and raised her other arm to put the back of her hand on her forehead, letting out a sigh that rivaled the ones she heard in every Regency film Ruby had forced her to watch. If she faked a swoon, Emma would hit her. "He is delicious."

"Ahem, Ruby?"

"What?"

"He's a priest," Emma felt the need to point out. She knew Ruby loved to talk about every single man in Storybrooke and highlight their best features. But a priest…yeah, she had to draw the line there. Her weird dreams were enough. There was no point in talking about sexy men who were totally unavailable for womankind. "You might not be Catholic or religious at all, but even you should know about the whole celibacy thing."

"Doesn't mean I can't appreciate the eye candy."

"What about Victor?"

"What about him?"

"I thought you two have a thing?"

"Yeah, but I still have eyes in my head." Ruby rolled her eyes to emphasize her point, before shooting her one of her trademark 'duh' looks. "Wait until you see him. Then you know what I mean."

"Fine. For now I'm in desperate need of a bear claw and a hot chocolate with whipped cream and cinnamon in the biggest mug you can find."

"Coming right up."

She'd just taken a huge bite of her bear claw as the bell on the door jingled. Her cheeks filled with the delicious treat, she turned around to see who'd entered the diner and almost choked on the bearclaw when the hottest man she'd ever seen in her whole life stepped through the door. Dark, windswept hair that looked as if he'd just rolled out of bed after spending hours satisfying a woman while she screamed his name over and over. Not to mention the scruff covering his cheeks. The exactly right amount of scruff. Her libido that had been absent for months jumped back into the fray when she took him all in. Black shirt, black pants. God, black was definitely his color. And then her eyes swept over the white collar at the top of his shirt and she almost whimpered. Damn it all to hell. He was their new priest?

"Father Jones, what can I get for you on this fine morning?" Ruby's cheery voice broke through her wayward thoughts.

"Good morning to you too, Miss Lucas."

"It's Ruby, Father Jones. I've told you to call me that about a million times now."

"All right, lass," he replied, his mouth curling up into a smile. God, that smile was lethal. "Ruby it is."

British accent, too? Emma's stomach clenched with need as she struggled to swallow the bear claw without getting it into the wrong pipe. Her eyes wandered automatically down his body as he leaned over the counter, appreciating the view. And what a view it was. The black shirt and dress pants he wore didn't manage to hide anything, showing off a lean torso that tapered out into one delicious ass. Biting her tongue, Emma closed her eyes, almost groaning out loud as a lewd image of her wrapping her legs around his trim waist and holding onto that tight ass while he frantically pumped into her jumped into her brain. Snapping her eyes opened, she forced herself to look anywhere else than the hot priest leaning only a few feet away against the counter.

That's right, Swan. He is a priest. Get your mind out of the gutter.

Leaning against the counter, Killian looked around while waiting for his order to be readied. Ruby had been right – it was a very fine morning indeed. Sunbeams danced through the high windows, sending sparkles of light throughout the whole diner.

Maybe he'd be able to spend some time in the gardens. It helped him center his thoughts. His best sermons were always a result of gardening. Something about the smell of fresh turned earth, the feel of the dark soil between his fingers seemed to spur his creativity.

A twinkle of light caught his eyes, making him turn his head to find out the source. He lost his breath as his eyes fell on the woman sitting on the barstool a few feet away from him. Blonde hair swept into a haphazard ponytail, her sharp features tugging at something deep inside of him. He gulped hard, unable to keep himself from sweeping his gaze over her body. A short, red leather jacket hugging her torso, skinny black jeans revealing toned legs, knee high boots encasing her calves.

She was gorgeous all over.

Killian couldn't remember the last time a bout of lust had shot through his body. He'd been convinced that there weren't any carnal thoughts left in his brain anymore, no matter how beautiful a woman was. Apparently he'd been mistaken.

"Have you met my friend Emma yet, Father Jones?" Ruby asked him as she put his order on the counter.

"No, I haven't had the pleasure." He turned fully to face her. "Nice to meet you, Miss..."

"Swan," she replied, giving him a shy smile as she added, "Emma Swan."

What a fitting name for this beautiful woman. The way she tilted her head drew his eyes right to her neck, the image of a swan springing to mind. A fitting name indeed. Before his thoughts could again trail to more carnal places, he forced himself to speak again.

"Nice to make your acquaintance, Miss Swan," he said, stepping close to her and holding out his hand for her to shake. "My name is Killian Jones. But most people have taken to call me by my more colorful moniker…Father Jones."

He felt the blush rise in his cheeks. What a ridiculous thing to say. But she only laughed. "Then I'll call you that…Father Jones."

He definitely imagined the emphasis on his title to sound flirtatious. His cheeks grew hotter, his embarrassment raising sky-high for having all these inappropriate feelings towards this woman. But all that was forgotten when her fingers closed over his. A jolt went through him from head to toe, making him almost jerk his hand out of her grip. Startled, his eyes snapped to hers. Flickers of emotions chased over her eyes, his body too keyed up for him to name them.

"I'll hopefully see you around," he said, hoping the crack in his voice on the last word existed only in his imagination. Letting her hand go a little too hastily, he turned away and grabbed the bag with his order. "I have to go."

He walked briskly towards the door, hoping it didn't look like he was fleeing a sinking ship. Though he couldn't get away from her fast enough. Not catching a last glimpse at her over his shoulder was harder than he wanted to admit. But he managed just so, drawing in a deep breath when he stepped onto the sidewalk. Turning sharply to the right in the direction of the church, he wondered how it was possible that a few minutes in the presence of a certain Emma Swan was able to rattle him down to his bones.

"And?"

"And the bear claw is great," Emma told Ruby, suppressing a laugh when Ruby put her fists on her hips and glared at her. Of course she knew what Ruby wanted to hear, but just admitting it right upfront was no fun at all.

"Emma Swan! You know exactly that I was not talking about the food."

"You weren't?" she replied in a too innocent voice. "But it's really quite tasty. Does Granny put something special in it? Some secret ingredient maybe?"

Emma jerked back when Ruby suddenly leaned over the counter, her face only inches away from her own.

"Tell me that I was right," Ruby said, grabbing her forearm, her nails digging into her flesh.

For one second Emma contemplated drawing it out longer, but when Ruby tightened her grip she feared her friend might pierce her skin. Having fun with her wasn't worth having deep gauges all over her forearms.

"Yeah, he's not bad looking."

"Not bad looking?" Ruby asked exasperated, narrowing her eyes to slits as she leaned back again. "I think you need to go see an ophthalmologist."

"No need for that. I have twenty/twenty vision."

"You're yanking my chain then."

"Maybe."

"No maybe about it," Ruby huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "He's insanely hot."

"All right, he is," Emma conceded with some reluctance. "Not that it matters if he's hot. Priest. Celibacy. Does that ring a bell?"

"Though there's no harm in enjoying what God has given him."

Emma laughed out loud when Ruby's eyes glazed over. But then she remembered how well those pants had hugged his ass and suddenly drooling over him seemed to be the only thing you could do when you came across such a fine male specimen. Besides, Ruby wasn't that far off. God had to have given him these looks for a reason, right?

Exactly, Emma. He belongs to God.

The problem wasn't that she thought lightning would struck her if she ogled a man of the cloth, but she was afraid that letting herself forget that he wasn't available for any woman could turn into a disaster for her. She was way too attracted to him after only being in his presence for a few minutes. If it were only physical she might be able to just shrug it off, but when they shook hands and he looked at her with those too blue eyes there had definitely been a spark. A spark that might turn into an inferno if she let it. She'd been burned before. She wasn't seventeen anymore. Developing a crush on the priest was a really, really bad idea.

So she would just make sure to avoid him as much as possible. She couldn't think about having her wicked way with the hot priest if she never saw him, right?

Killian was still shaken from the encounter at the diner when he reached his small house right beside the church. Fumbling for the keys while pressing the take-out bag against his chest ended in him dropping them, right into the shrubbery beside the door. He bit his tongue to keep the expletive from spilling from his lips. After all, it didn't suit a priest to curse like a sailor.

Letting out a deep sigh, he put the bag with his grilled cheese sandwich on the ground and leaned over the brush, swallowing a few more curses as the thorns pierced through his shirt and scratched his skin while he groped through the thorns in search of his keys. After what seemed like hours he finally found them and got the door opened without dropping them again.

Putting the take-out bag on the kitchen table, he reached for his shirt and pushed it up, checking whether he needed to clean up the scratches. He let out another sigh when he looked at the bloody scratches covering his forearm. Letting the shirt fall back into place again, he decided that the scratches could wait a few minutes until he'd eaten. No reason to waste a perfectly delicious sandwich. He sat down on the kitchen stool and pulled the sandwich out. When he unwrapped it his mind drifted back to the woman he'd just met a few minutes ago at Granny's.

Emma Swan.

Swallowing down the bite he'd just taken, he closed his eyes. Her beauty was undeniable, but he'd met a lot of beautiful women in his life without feeling totally off-kilter. But Emma Swan…there was something special about her.

Even before he'd become a priest he hadn't believed in love at first sight. Attraction at first sight maybe, but not love. But when her fingers had closed around his he'd felt something more than attraction. A spark. He'd never met her before, but still he'd felt close to her, as if she knew him. Which was total bollocks, of course. But if he wasn't mistaken she'd felt it, too. Her eyes had widened and her mouth had dropped opened for just a few seconds before she'd averted her gaze. When their eyes had met again he couldn't see anything unusual in her gaze anymore.

Just thinking about her made his cock twitch and fill again. Groaning out loud, he put the sandwich down, suddenly not hungry anymore. He pushed off the stool and walked into the bathroom, leaning down to pull out the first aid kit. Taking care of the scratches kept his mind occupied for a few minutes. But when he walked back into the kitchen to throw the sandwich away, Emma was back in his thoughts.

Deciding that burying himself in some menial work would help chase the pictures of a certain blonde with sparkling emerald eyes out of his mind, he walked into the office. Sitting down behind his desk, he started his computer. Looking at the household ledgers should do the trick of killing his arousal since he didn't want to take care of the urgent throbbing between his legs. He hadn't needed to in months.

"Bloody hell," he cursed under his breath as he reached down to adjust himself. Realizing too late that he'd cursed out loud, his eyes jumped to the cross across from his desk and he lifted his hand automatically to cross himself. "Apologies for using rude language in your presence, Savior. Apparently old habits die hard. Won't happen again."

As long as he kept his distance from a certain Miss Emma Swan. This woman was too dangerous for his mind and faith. Since he hadn't seen her in church until now, he felt confident assuming that she was either not Catholic or not very religious. It shouldn't be that hard to avoid meeting her. She was way too tempting, and if he had one weakness he'd never been able to shake after taking the cloth, it was the fact that he'd always had a hard time withstanding temptations of any kind.

The pirate ship swayed under his feet as he entered the room, his eyes falling on the woman doing pull-ups and giving him a magnificent view of her backside. His mouth curled up into a smile when he let himself enjoy the sight for a few more seconds before he spoke, "Oh, don't stop on my account."

"Wouldn't think of it." Oddly enough, her voice sounded kind of tinny and as if she spoke from far, far away.

She still didn't turn towards him, her hair obscuring her face. Then his vision suddenly went blurry, as if he were looking at her through a window that was pelted with rain and slightly milky. He shook his head, wondering why his eyes suddenly seemed to stop working properly.

"What're you doing?" He felt compelled to ask despite his peculiar vision problems.

"Getting ready for a fight."

He jolted awake, his heart racing in his chest, her words still sounding in his ear like a far-away echo. He didn't recognize the voice. He didn't know that woman. Then why did the whole scene feel so familiar? And the pirate ship again? Why was it always a pirate ship? Not to mention that he remembered wearing a heavy leather coat and having a hook as a hand. That was completely absurd.

Closing his eyes, he tried to bring the dream back into his conscious mind. But all he managed was a clear image of the room he'd been in. A shaky laugh rumbled out of his chest when he realized that the pirate ship he couldn't stop dreaming about was actually the Jolly Roger, the show boat that was moored at the pier. He probably had taken one too many tours inspecting it since he'd come to town two weeks ago. Add to that his obsession with old history, especially those of pirates the dreams made a lot more sense.

The blonde woman looks like Emma.

He shook his head, letting another laugh spill over his lips. That was even more preposterous than imaging having a hook attached to his left wrist instead of his prosthetic hand. The woman in his dreams couldn't be Emma. He had just met her a few hours ago. He definitely didn't know her, and he definitely didn't spend any time with her on a ship.

Maybe he should spend a few hours tomorrow praying the rosary, finding peace, like always, in repeating the Holy Mary and Lord's Prayer. Afterwards, he could spend some time in the gardens. That might put his troubled mind to rest before his dreams and a certain woman would drive him insane.