AUTHORS NOTE: Thank you all for reading, and reviewing this story I'm glad you all like it. To clarify, I stated that Emma and Killian would be keeping their names, I didn't say anything about the other characters. And you're right, having two people named Neal is kind of confusing, but that will be resolved in this chapter. TRIGGER WARNING! Situations that may bring up traumatic memories, will be marked off with the bolded KEKEKEKEKEKEKE.

A new arrival. There was a bloody new arrival at the home. He was right, things really are changing. But the real question is, are things changing for the better, or for the worse? Stop being so cynical Killian. It's just another poor damsel in distress fleeing after she realized Prince Charming isn't so charming. He stopped at the convenience store, bought the phone in cash, just like the infuriating Mary Margaret always reminded him to do on the rare occasion that they had someone new at the home, and hurried off. Now that he thought about it, they never have had a new arrival at the home. It's just been the kids, ever since that place was built. When was it built? Killian racked his brain, but his memories were foggy. The only thing that was crystal clear, was her. But he'd been dreaming about her for as far back as his memory goes, though only now could he place the girl. In his dreams, she didn't seem fragile like she appeared to in real life, she was strong, brave, ferocious, someone not to be crossed. Even so, the dreams were nightmares, always nightmares. As he made the turn with practiced ease, an interesting thought waltzed its way up to the forefront of his brain, and he just couldn't get it to go away. What if the new arrival was her? What would he do? What would he say? As he pulled his way up to the building, his fears were realized, when he laid eyes on her yellow punch buggy, sitting in the parking lot like it was meant to be there all along.

KEKEKEKEKEKEKEKEKEKEKEKEK

Emma stared out her window, her eyes focused on the sleep black car approaching. She watched curiously as it turned into the parking lot, and pulled into a space right next to her car, when there were at least five other parking spots. She kept watching as a man gracefully stepped out of the car, holding a plastic bag in one hand, which contained what was most likely her new burner phone. Her eyes widened when she caught a glimpse of silver where his left hand should be. Him. The man who had been haunting her dreams for a long time now, longer than she cared to admit. She looked away quickly, as if he might catch her staring from two stories up, and decided to watch the clock instead. When it hit 8:13, she stood up, slowly, and started making her way down the stairs.

"You alright there Emma?" she heard Mary Margaret call from the kitchen.

"I'm fine!" Emma replied breathlessly. It must've been a little to breathlessly for Mary Margaret's liking, because after some murmuring, a boy, probably about fourteen years old, appeared at the bottom of the steps. With hair only a little bit darker than Emma's, and brown eyes he was oddly familiar. He rushed up the stairs towards her, and stopped one step below her, holding out his arm with a grin that was similar to her own rare one.

"Need a hand?" he asked, his tone light. Emma gratefully rested her hand on his elbow, and felt a strange sense of deja vu washed over her, but she ignored it.

"Thanks," she replied with a small smile.

"You must be the new arrival, Emma," he continued, the smile firmly in place. "I'm Neal." Emma's heart quickened at that, but she took a deep breath to calm down. Concern showed in the boy's eyes, and his smile wavered as she took a deep breath. This kid is not him. This kid is not Cassidy. This kid is Neal. Neal the nice, gentle boy who helps me down the stairs.

"I'm fine," she replied honestly

She's telling the truth Neal thought.

"Awesome," he said.

"So Neal, tell me about yourself," she said as they reached the bottom of the stairs, cringing at her lame attempt to change the subject. Pretending not to notice, Neal gestured to a framed painting on the wall. It was a castle, a beautiful castle, set on the edge of a crystal clear body of water, with snowy mountains in the background. It was a beautiful painting, one only an artist of great skill, with years of experience could make.

"I painted that," he said nonchalantly, leading her towards the dining room.

Truth she thought, but she entertained him anyway. She turned to him wide eyed. She almost had to look up at him now that they were on even ground. She could see the smirk on his face, and her smile grew a little.

"I did," he clarified, as they stepped through the door way and into the dining room.

"Wow," she breathed, honestly impressed at the boy's obvious talent. "Maybe you should paint me some time," she joked. Neal looked down at her, and his eyes bore into hers.

She's so familiar. "Maybe I will," he said cheekily. Emma looked up at him, surprise flickering across her face. She couldn't tell if the boy was serious or not, but she decided to just offer him a kind smile. She liked him, he just made her feel comfortable, kind of like Mary Margaret, but in a brotherly sort of way. Before she could say anything more, they arrived in the dining room, where Mary Margaret, a girl about Neal's age, and a boy that was obviously Neal's brother, despite the different coloring, sat around a big table. Neal escorted Emma to one of the empty chairs, and gently lifted her hand off of his elbow. She let it fall by her side, and watched with an amused smile as he pulled the chair out, and gestured for her to sit down.

"What a gentleman," she praised, before taking her seat. As Neal pushed her in, a new voice joined the conversation from the door way.

"Neal, quit stealing my moves to try and win over the ladies!" a deep Irish brogue called. Irish, he had to be Irish.

"Not my fault that you seem to be a little shorthanded in that department Killian," Neal shot back with a smirk. A smile grew on Killian's face, but Emma could see the pain he was trying to mask at the boy's comment.

"Oi lad, enough with the hand jokes, ladies are present," he reprimanded, taking the last empty seat across from Emma.

"Killian," Mary Margaret started in, but Killian didn't let her finish, holding up his good hand to stop the scolding she was surely going to give him.

"I just need the lass's keys Mary Margaret. I know you can't bear to be apart from me for too long," he laughed dryly. The other woman glared at him, but wordlessly tossed him the keys, before turning to continue her conversation with Grace. Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome, Stop it Emma, turned to Emma, smirking at her, and winked, before he jumped up from his chair, and was out the door, sprinting through the downpour, towards her bug. She watched him go, but quickly averted her eyes once she realized the room was silent.

"He didn't try to make a move or anything!" the girl, Grace, said excitedly.

"Is that not normal for him?" Emma asked, slightly confused. Neal nodded, shoveling a fork full of food into his face. Emma turned to Mary Margaret for confirmation, and she sighed.

"Killian's quite a character. He's obnoxious, and he drips innuendo and flirts with anything that moves. I don't know what it means that he didn't make a move on you Emma, and if I were you, I would just ignore it," she explained. Emma nodded, because she understood immediately, what the others probably didn't. The smirks, and the flirty winks, and the innuendo's the others seemed to think that he constantly dropped, were all Killian's walls. She could see it in the way his smile didn't quite reach his dull, tired eyes, and the dark circles that were probably a permanent fixture underneath them. She could see, because she was just like him, and that, made her worry.