Author's Note: And we're back for another chapter! Thank you again (so very, very much) to every one of you precious cinnamon rolls who have alerted, favorited, and reviewed this story. It's the greatest motivation.

So, we left off with Killian and Emma about to embark on a card-cheating extravaganza. Let's see how they made out!

No, not like that-I see your hopes, but c'mon, we're only 3 chapters in, people! Patience! ;)

Disclaimer: I own nothing OUAT. If I did, I only have three words for you: No. Student. Debt.


Chapter 3

For supposedly being trapped in another realm, Emma knew she was having too much fun.

Yes, she was fairly terrible at cards, but while she herself was a horrible liar, it did not by any means imply that she couldn't spot a lie. In fact, she prided herself on her ability to tell when someone was lying to her. She always knew. She'd never once in her life been proven wrong.

Well, except the once, but she wasn't going to think about that.

When it came to cards, it was all too easy for her to play her hand to match Killian's. She didn't know exactly how, but they understood each other. Whenever he smirked and flirted with her, she knew that he wanted her to raise. She would flirt back, and he would up the ante in more ways than one. More than once they'd been not-so-politely asked to take their "game" upstairs.

Whenever he simply met her eyes across the table, he wanted her to lose. That stupidly attractive arrogant eyebrow arch of his meant that he didn't want her to bet or raise. None of it made sense to her, how she inherently understood what he wanted of her, but she did. By the end of the night, between the two of them, they had more gold coins than Emma had ever seen, and Killian had added yet another ring to his right hand.

They left the tavern before their poor marks could suspect that they'd been cheated, laughing like idiots into the cool night air. Killian held a half-full bottle of rum in one hand while the other held hers. "You are bloody brilliant, Swan!" he beamed as he swung their hands. "Absolutely amazing!"

Emma laughed breathlessly when he suddenly twirled her like a dancer. "Thanks," she said. "You weren't too bad, yourself."

"You do wonders for a man's ego, love."

"Your ego doesn't need any help from me."

"Aye, but I assure you, there are other parts of me that would love your help."

He gave her that stupid little smirk again, the one that told her that he knew exactly how attractive he was and knew how to use it to his fullest advantage. She imagined that he'd gotten countless women into his bed with just that smirk, and the fact that it made her want to take a step closer to him caused her to take a step back and pull her hand from his.

What the hell was she doing?

Killian frowned. "Swan?"

"So, I helped you." Emma crossed her arms over her chest. "How are you going to help me?"

Killian stopped to stare at her. The green eyes that had just been bright and happy visibly darkened. It was as if she'd placed a wall between them and retreated behind it. Her back stiffened and her smile faded into a hard line.

He hated that it hurt him as much as it did, and his gut reaction was to say something cutting or snide, but he bit his tongue and took a breath. "I'll commandeer a horse tomorrow. As I said, the sorcerer lives roughly a week's journey from here. We'll leave at dawn."

Emma nodded once. "Okay. See you then."

She abruptly turned around and started back toward the tavern. Killian lunged forward to stop her, gently tugging on her arm. "Oi, hang on, now, love. Just where do you think you're going?"

"Back to the inn."

"And pay for a bed with what money?"

Emma glared at him. "I helped you win that money. I'm owed some of it."

She had a point, but he didn't want her to go. "Aye," he agreed. "And so you shall have it." He produced a small purse from his belt, but when Emma went to grab it, he held it away from her. "Tomorrow," he added.

"Then where am I supposed to sleep?"

"On my ship, of course."

Emma laughed. "Yeah, buddy. That's not happening."

Killian nearly rolled his eyes. "Believe it or not, Swan, but that was hardly what I meant to imply. Your virtue is safe with me. I cannot promise the same, however, if you're to insist upon staying at the inn with the rest of my compatriots."

Emma raised her eyebrows. "Oh, so now you're going to be a gentleman?"

"As I said, I believe in good form," he replied. "And I'm always a gentleman."

Emma studied him for long moment, waiting for her lie detector to go off. She waited and waited some more . . . nothing. Killian just stared at her, waiting just as she was, his blue eyes softly entreating yet firm at the same time.

"It's just one night, Swan," he said.

Emma pursed her lips. "Fine."

She hated the way Killian grinned in response, gesturing grandly with a slight bow toward the docks. She scoffed as she walked past him, but Killian didn't mind, jogging to catch up with her with a pleased smile. Emma tried to be subtle once they were at the docks as she attempted to determine which ship belonged to Killian, but the pirate silently preened as they continued to pass ship after ship. She caught him grinning at her out of the corner of her eye, and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. She looked down at her feet just to be safe, letting her hair serve as a meager shield.

Killian laughed quietly, before taking her hand and pulling her to a stop. "Behold!" he said proudly. "The Jolly Roger."

Emma looked up and couldn't stop her jaw from going slack. She didn't know anything about ships, but there was something about this one that immediately filled her with a sense of appreciation. The lines and sails had an elegant bearing, as if they weren't suspended but floating. The ship itself was navy with bold lines of red and yellow. She smiled.

Killian smirked. "I know," he said simply.

Emma rolled her eyes. "She's pretty," she allowed.

"Aye, that she is." He gestured toward the gangplank. "After you, love."

Though she wasn't thrilled with the idea of having her back to him, she was fairly certain he wasn't going to shove her into the water, and so she boarded the ship with as much confidence as she could muster. Killian chuckled behind her, as if he knew what she was thinking, and that irritated her more than anything.

Once she was on deck, she took a moment to get her feet beneath her. The subtle rock of the ship was different but strangely exciting. She walked to the port rail and carefully placed her hands on the smooth wood. The water lapped playfully at the sides of the boat, and although it was night, the moon was full and the stars were shining, reflecting off the navy water like bright spots of white, winking light.

"Not a bad view, is it, Swan?"

"I've never been on a ship before."

Killian grinned. "You never forget your first." Emma rolled her eyes but said nothing in response, and so after another moment, he said, "Come on, love. Let me show you to your quarters."

He held out his hand, and Emma hesitated before taking it. Killian smirked knowingly, and she hated that she once again had to fight against the blush rising in her cheeks. He led her below deck, carefully descending the ladder before once again offering her a hand to assist. This time, she pointedly ignored it, and he let his hand fall to his side.

Her eyes took in the room. It was larger than she'd expected. She had fully prepared herself for nothing but a hammock strung between beams in the dark underbelly of the ship, but instead she was in a roomy cabin. There was a bookshelf on one wall, half-full but neatly stacked. The desk in the middle of the room was crowded but clean. Maps were stacked neatly in one corner, held in place by a brass paperweight. A beautifully carved wooden box sat on the other corner, and she had to resist the urge to lift the lid to see what lay inside.

Tucked into the wall to her left was a bed just large enough for two if you didn't mind a close cuddle, but she ignored that for a moment. Instead she crossed the room, trailing a hand over the desk as she passed. She stopped in front of four long windows that she figured nearly stretched across the whole bow. The view wasn't idyllic now, docked in port. She only had a view of the next ship moored behind them, but she could only imagine the endless stretch of blue she'd know if they were at sea.

She looked back at the bed and then the maps on the desk. "This is your room," she realized. "You're giving me your room."

"You sound surprised." Killian took a step toward her. "You didn't think I'd stick you in the crew's quarters, did you?" He frowned when she just stared at him in reply. "Honestly, woman. You'd think no one had ever done a kind thing for you in your life."

"Yeah, well, not many have."

Killian's face fell. "I was only joking, love."

Emma awkwardly shoved her hands in her back pockets and shrugged. Killian sensed that any attempt he made to further the conversation would not be well-received, and so he took a step back and said, "I'll leave you to your rest, then."

He only made it two steps before Emma's voice stopped him. "For a pirate, you're being awfully nice to me," she said.

The faint hint of distrust and suspicion in her voice wounded him, but more so for her sake than his. He met her inquiring eyes with a faint smile that Emma thought was the most honest she'd ever seen him. "I wasn't always a pirate, Swan. Now, get some rest. We have a long journey ahead."


Emma woke with a start, nearly falling out of bed as her momentum carried her forward and her mattress lurched beneath her. Why was the bed moving? She cautiously took in her surroundings. It was still quite dark. Only faint beginnings of grey light illuminated the room. Eager, anxious eyes took in the desk with its maps and the windows that showed something dark churning.

It was the subtle rock of her bed once again that made Emma gasp.

It was real.

She'd had the strangest dream of waking up in the woods and finding a Renaissance Fair full of very method actors. She'd cheated at cards with a pirate who had promised to take her home, and then she'd reluctantly taken him up on his offer of a bed. She didn't even know where he had wound up sleeping.

He didn't make sense to her, the pirate. Killian.

Emma didn't claim to be good at many things, but if there was one skill she'd learned—mastered, even—it was the ability to read people, and Killian Jones did not make sense.

I'm always a gentleman. That was what he claimed. She knew it to be strangely true so far. Yet for all of his charm, for all of his witty one-liners and playful innuendos, she saw something dark lurking in him. She wasn't afraid of him, but she wasn't stupid.

Killian Jones was dangerous.

She knew it in her bones, which was what made her next realization that much more painful: She liked him.

The sooner she got home, the better.

Emma was out of bed—his bed—before she could second-guess herself. Not that there was any second-guessing going on. None at all. She was going home, and that was that.

She only had to pull on her boots and jacket before she was ready to go. As she climbed the stairs to the deck, she ran a hand through her hair to try to untangle her limp curls. The crisp salty air hit her square in the face as soon as she was above deck, but she had to smile. She hadn't known how much she'd liked the water until she'd moved to Florida, but this was something else.

The deck was clear. She looked the boat from bow to stern like she expected Killian to magically appear. When he didn't, she walked to the rail much like she had the night before, placing her hands on the surprisingly polished, scrubbed wood, and took a deep breath. She smiled slightly and closed her eyes, listening to the water lap against the hull, until a gruff voice sneered into her ear.

"Oi, I don't remember you bein' part of the crew." She jumped slightly but didn't take a step back. She tensed and fixed the stranger with her best glare. He was no taller than her but burly, with stringy brown hair and a pug nose. His breath smelt like old fish, and she got a good whiff when he leaned closer, "Can't be one of the Cap'n's girls. Never seen him with a blonde. Figure he won't mind if I just . . ."

He reached up, as though he meant to touch her hair, and Emma reacted. She grabbed his wrist, jerked his arm sideways, and then reached up to grab the back of his head with her free hand. She kicked his knee, and as he buckled, she slammed his head into the rail. His nose immediately exploded with blood, and he cursed as he fell onto his back, clutching his rapidly swelling face.

"You bitch!"

He hobbled to his feet, and Emma readied herself for a right hook.

She never got her chance.

Killian was suddenly there, wrapping his left hand around the man's throat and dragging him backwards until his back hit the rail. His feet kicked at the air as Killian shoved him forward until one small push would send him back flipping into the water.

"Mr. Hawkins, I do believe we've had this discussion before." Killian's voice was low and rough. Hawkins gasped when the hold on his throat tightened. "It's bad form to force oneself on a woman." Hawkins choked as he tried to defend himself, even as one hand clutched Killian's wrist. "Sorry, mate. Didn't catch that."

He's going to kill him. The thought spurned Emma to take a step forward. "Hey, that's enough," she said. "I'm fine. Let him go." If anything, her words only made Killian's grip tighten further. Hawkins began to turn an uneasy shade of purple. "Killian!"

At the sound of his name, he looked up. His blue eyes that had so brightly danced as he flirted with her last night were as hard and cold as ice. His lips were set in a thin line, and his jaw was clenched tight. He looked as though he could just as easily turn his anger on her, but Emma knew in her gut that he wouldn't.

So she took another step forward and put her hand on his shoulder, and said, "Killian, let him go."

He paused then said, "So be it."

Killian let go, but not without a little push, and Hawkins tumbled into the sea. Emma rushed to the rail and waited anxiously until Hawkins resurfaced, spluttering and cursing. She turned to Killian. "What the hell? That wasn't what I meant!"

He ignored her. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, and I had it handled."

"Yes, I saw that."

"I can take care of myself."

"I wasn't being sarcastic. I saw that little move of yours." He suddenly grinned, one of the delighted smiles she'd seen last night. "I knew there was a bit of pirate in you, Swan."

Emma didn't want to smile, but he kept grinning at her, looking as though he'd never seen anything like her and was . . . entranced. And so she allowed the smallest of pleased smiles to appear. Killian looked her up and down and asked, "So, ready to go?"

"Yeah." Emma glanced back at the rail. "He's not gonna drown, is he?"

"Only sailor that drowns is a dead one," Killian said. "Someone will fish him out, I'm sure." He put a gentle hand on her back while he gestured toward the dock with the other. "We'd best be going, darling."

Emma did as he asked, ignoring the heat of his hand on her back. Killian followed behind her, thankfully, and so he was oblivious to the troubled look on her face. The last few minutes had only reaffirmed her of two things. One: Killian Jones was undoubtedly dangerous; and two: She very much liked him.

Neither one was a good thing.

She was done with danger, with taking risks. Those actions had never landed her anywhere good. And as for men? Well, that was simply destined to end poorly.

Emma reached up to slip her fingers around the chain that held her swan pendant, the end of the stupidly sentimental keychain that Neal had given her. She did not wear it for him. No, she wore it because of him, as a reminder, a reminder that she couldn't trust anyone. People left her, people betrayed her, people hurt her.

She was only good enough for herself.

And that was all she needed. She was better alone. She was stronger alone. Hadn't she proved that?

She glanced at Killian out of the corner of her eye as he walked beside her. There was no visible trace of the man who had thrown Hawkins overboard. He walked without an ounce of tension, eyes roving through the small crowd absently, observing, and she pretended not to notice when those blue eyes inevitably trailed back to her.

Concern shone in his eyes, but it was muffled, like he knew she wouldn't appreciate the sentiment. His hand would twitch at his side, as if he wanted to place it on the small of her back and be the gentlemen he claimed to always be, but he never made a move toward her. He let her be.

She didn't get it.

Because how could he know her well enough to, well, know?

He hadn't even known her for a day.

God, it hadn't even been twenty-four hours since this nightmare started.

Killian pulled her to a stop outside the tavern, and it took Emma a second to recognize the place. Without its boisterous nightly crowd, the tavern looked like nothing but a ramshackle hut. A lonely curl of smoke drifted from a single chimney, and Emma almost wanted to go inside to make sure it was actually the very place she had spent the majority of her night.

It was only when Killian lightly brushed the small of her back as he stepped forward that she noticed the horse.

Just the one.

The animal was loaded with two thick grey blankets and two large saddlebags. The saddle looked hilariously small, and that was when the realization truly sank in that she would have to be sharing it. She looked at Killian, who cocked that ridiculous eyebrow of his, as if waiting for approval, and she said, "So, where's the other one?"

Killian chuckled. "I don't know what horses go for in your land, Swan, but here they're not exactly cheap. One was the best I could do with our winnings."

Emma huffed. "So all that last night was just for this?"

"Nothing slips past you, love," he grinned before holding out a hand and canting his head toward the horse. "You first."

Emma hesitated. What she wouldn't give for a car.

Killian smirked. "You've never ridden before, have you?"

"We don't use horses in my world. Not anymore. We have cars."

"A what?"

"A car, you know? Four wheels. A motor."

Killian blinked. "Sounds like a fine vessel," he said. "Unfortunately, one such car does not exist here, and so you'll have to make due. Come on, Swan." He smiled and offered his hand again. "I promise the beast won't hurt you."

Emma huffed, exasperated with her own nerves. It was just a horse. She set her jaw determinedly, planted her foot in the stirrup, and ignored Killian's hands on her waist as he helped her into the saddle. She laughed breathlessly in surprise once she was astride, her hands clutched around the saddle horn. It was much higher up than she'd thought.

Still on the ground, Killian smirked at her reaction. She was something else, Swan. While she was still distracted, he gracefully swung himself into the saddle behind her, unable to keep from grinning into her hair when she tensed. "Could only afford one horse, huh?" she mocked. "Sure you didn't have an ulterior motive?"

Killian wrapped his arms around her to grasp the reins. "Nothing slips past you, love," he teased again, his lips at her ear. "Perhaps I did want an excuse to be close to you."

Emma ignored the way his breath brushed against her ear and the pool of heat it immediately ignited in her stomach. It only worsened when he urged the horse into a canter and she fell back against solid, laughing chest. "Don't be afraid to hold on, love," he teased. "I won't mind in slightest."

She sat as far away from him as she could until finally her back simply refused to stand up straight. Hesitantly, she relaxed into him, entirely unaware of the surprisingly soft, pleased smile on Killian's face.


I love that pirate.

Writing Killian post-Lieutenant but pre-Hook has been an interesting challenge, but fun nonetheless. Anyhoo, our OTP is off on their first adventure! Just what (who) will they find?

Alrighty, who gets our preview line? Let's see . . . oh, I know! Emma!

"Listen, Dumbledore, I came here for help . . ."

See you Friday!

Lots of love,

AC