It could have been awkward after that morning, and it probably should have been, but somehow it just…wasn't. After they got back to the garage (he drove this time, and the speedometer was flirting with 140 the entire time, and it should have been terrifying, but it wasn't) he left her to her own devices, heading off to his side of the garage and leaving her to finish the fan belt, and that morning – and the night before – never came up again.

Part of her kept expecting his voice to ring out in the space, finishing the question he had started to ask her, sitting on the hood of that car. But another part – a larger part – kept hearing his voice echo through her head, the sound of it as he talked about his brother, the set of his mouth as he let her steer the topic far away from herself, and the way she knew implicitly that he had heard more than his fair share of prying questions from well meaning people about things he wasn't ready to talk about. So he let her stay silent, let her fiddle with the fan belt and then some brake pads and then two ignition coils, and when he did talk it was about the cars or the weather or a song on the godawful country station he had playing again. And while she kept on expecting his question to come, she was beyond grateful that it didn't. She had been with Walsh for over a year, but she had never had this easy silence with him – never had this plain respect for the things that she needed. She had known Killian for mere weeks, and in that time he had figured out what Walsh hadn't come close to in over a year.

Today, they were working together. She had come in to the sight of Killian cursing at an exhaust pipe that was bent way out of shape that he told her the owner was too cheap to fix properly, so he ended up banging away at it on the back workbench until it remotely resembled the shape of a normal exhaust, and then somehow she ended up wrestling the thing into place while he attached it back to the undercarriage.

"I'm about ten seconds away from murdering this car and you with my bare hands, so can youplease hurry up?" She shifted her weight a bit as he took his sweet time readjusting the angle of the wrench, scowling darkly at him. Her arms had started going numb five minutes ago, the jack up just high enough that she had to hold the pipe at a very awkward angle, and she was ready for this to be over if only because he had promised to start taking a look at her car after they were finished.

"If I do it right, Swan, I only have to do it once." He flashed that stupid crooked grin at her and she resisted the urge to kick him in the shin.

"You can do it right and still do it fast."

"Maybe I just enjoy your company." He winked at her and pulled another bolt from his pocket, whistling a little as he screwed it in. She just stared at him, eyes narrowed but a smile on her face.

Three bolts later and her arms felt like noodles, but he finally wiped his hands on his coveralls and stuck the wrench in a pocket.

"All done, Swan." He whacked the pipe once, heartily, and then poked her in the shoulder. "I should sell the jack and just get you to hold up the cars – you did a bang up job with this."

"If you did, I'd drop one on your head." She ducked our from under the car and let her arms fall, and couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped. "And it might not be an accident."

"Harsh." He lowered the jack and reached into another pocket, palming the keys. "But careful there, Swan – a couple more comments and maybe I'll just forget to bring your car in here."

"I'll be good." She raised her hands in surrender, backing towards the side of the garage where she had a car ready and waiting. It always amazed her that a town so small could keep both her and Killian so busy, but since the first day she started there had always been a line of cars in the lot ready for their attention.

She started jacking up the car to bleed the brake lines, but Killian's crisp whistle cut over the sound.

"Want to help me bring your car in before you get into that?" He said, waiting until she stopped the jack and the garage was silent. "It'll take two to push it."

"Yeah, abso–" The phone shrilled from the office, the sound bouncing around the space, as loud as if it were next to her and not a whole garage away.

"Hold that thought." Killian held up a finger, flashing another grin at her before he jogged towards the office. She finished hoisting the car while he was gone, but her mind wasn't on it – finally, finally, she was going to get her car back. She knew it would take time, and she still had a lot to pay off even with the labour she'd already done, but every step closer to her car being fixed was one step closer to her finally getting back on the road and to…wherever it was she was going to go.

He was gone for several long minutes, and when he came back into the garage, there was no hint of that easy grin on his face.

"Change of plans, Swan. We've got to go pick up a car."

"Both of us?"

"Aye. It'll take two to get it on." There was something stony about his expression, and she didn't push it any further, just followed him out to the truck and rolled the garage doors closed behind her. By the time she climbed into the passenger seat, he had settled into a tense silence, and as they drove the short distance to the inland border of the town, he just stared out the windshield with a grim expression on his face. When they stopped, she could see why.

The sheriff had beat them to it, but an accident was no less an accident just because someone else was there. The car was blocked from view by the police cruiser, but as Killian backed the truck up, she caught a glimpse of the wreck in her mirror, and even in that small sliver of a moment she knew it was bad.

When they hopped out, Killian looked markedly whiter than he had only minutes before.

"Thanks for coming so quickly." A tall man with light brown hair walked up to them, and she guessed from the badge at his hip that he was the sheriff. "I didn't want to keep it on the road and have it distracting people driving past – the last thing we need is another accident."

"Aye." Killian nodded shortly. "Emma, this is Sheriff Nolan; Dave, this is Emma Swan. She's working with me for a while."

"Nice to see a new face around here." The sheriff stuck out his hand, shaking hers warmly. "Keeping Killian on his toes?"

"Trying to." She smiled. Sheriff Nolan held a hand out towards the car and she led the way towards it. As she did, she heard Killian talking to the sheriff in a low voice behind her.

"The driver?" He asked.

"I don't know." She couldn't see the sheriff shake his head, but from his tone, she didn't have to. "But I'll find out."

"Thanks, mate." There was the muffled sound of a hand clapping a shoulder, and then Killian was jogging up beside her and wiping his hands on his jeans as he approached even though they were perfectly clean. It struck her suddenly that he was nervous. "I'll get Dave to move his cruiser and pull the truck around – shouldn't take too long between the two of us."

"Don't they need to look for evidence or something?"

"Dave usually takes photos before I get here, and he'd tell me if he needed more time. I think he just wants it off the road." They stopped a few feet from the car, and he stood there for a long moment just looking at the car, bouncing a bit on the balls of his feet with his hand rubbing behind his ear, before nodding once and backing away in the direction they had come. "Take a look, see if there's anything that'll give us any problems. I'll be right back."

He practically ran back to the truck, and she just stared after him for a moment. This was the same man who had followed a rolling tire halfway to the road at a slow amble, who was always leaning up against something, whose every move was almost deliberately casual, whose smiles unfurled slowly. And now he was running places and fidgeting and glancing to and away from the wrecked car in short snatches that never settled. He was almost the opposite of the man she had come to know, and she wondered idly if someone had flipped a switch on him while she wasn't looking.

Turning her attention towards the wreck, she supposed she at least couldn't blame him for not letting his gaze linger too long on the car. She hadn't had an easy life, had seen more than her fair share of the coarser side of the world, but this was something entirely different, and something she knew that a person could never truly get used to. The front end was torn up, the bumper ripped clean off and laying in the ditch twenty feet away. The hood was bent up and back, and the engine compartment was a gaping black maw that she was suddenly scared of, because even though she worked underneath hoods of cars all day, the engine was a different thing when it was exposed to the world like this, in a way it was never supposed to be. It was all curving tubes and rough black plastic and shocks of colour that looked like warnings. And then there was the metal of the body, pitted and folded and peeled back like it was nothing, and she realized sharply and suddenly how quickly rigid aluminum and solid metal framing could turn into paper, crumpled just as easily.

It didn't help that all the windows were blown out, airbags spilling out the empty frames, a heavy red streak smudged across one.

The truck rumbled distinctively behind her, and she shook the thoughts out of her head, bending down to run a quick hand over the undercarriage to make sure the tow slots were still intact. Killian lowered the truck bed as she walked around the car, checking for anything that might catch or fall off or explode if they moved it, and when she circled back to the front he was waiting for her with a hook in his left hand, staring at the torn apart car with a far away look in his eyes.

"The car's good to go." She said softly, pretending not to see the way he jumped slightly at her voice. She climbed up the gentle incline of the truck bed to grab the second tow hook, and when she came back his expression was so uncomplicatedly casual that she wasn't sure she hadn't imagined the look in his eyes only moments before.

They hooked the car up in silence, winching it onto and then levelling the bed of the truck as quickly as they could because, as Sheriff Nolan had predicted, the few cars that passed were starting to slow down to stare at the scene. On their way out, Killian stopped beside the sheriff, but the man just shook his head.

"The driver's in surgery right now, but that's all I know. I'll call you if I hear anything."

"Thanks, mate." Killian let the truck idle for a moment, biting his bottom lip and staring past the sheriff, and then saying in a too quiet-voice, "Make sure someone calls his family, eh?"

"Always do." The sheriff looked like he wanted to say something more, but he just slapped an open palm against the truck door and stepped back, ushering them back onto the road and away from the scene.

—-

Emma had never processed an accident before, but it ended up being a day-long process with extensive photos, endless paperwork, and half a dozen calls to the insurance company the sheriff had told them to notify. By the time they finished, the sun was edging towards the horizon and Killian looked as exhausted as she felt. He towed the wrecked car out to the back lot as she made some semblance of an effort to clean up the tools and shuffle the paperwork into a reasonable pile. When she looked up, he was leaning wearily against the frame of the garage door, and he just inclined his head towards the house when she caught his eye.

"I've got a pizza in the freezer if you'd like to stay, Swan." His words sounded more like Please.

"That sounds great, actually." She gave him a tired smile and abandoned her attempts at organizing, letting him lead the way up to the house. Even though she had been at the garage every day since coming into town, she had never actually been up to the house. It was an old farmhouse that had clearly seen better days, the paint work and flaking and a window broken in on the second floor. He saw her looking as they walked up the hill, through the overgrown grass on a path that had clearly been forged by just his feet, and he rubbed a spot behind his ear.

"There was a pretty nasty storm a couple of months ago and I've been meaning to get some glass for it, but I'm never really up there so…"

"The only thing I own that has anything close to windows is sitting in the back lot right now, so I am in noplace to judge."

"Bloody hell." He stopped dead. "I was going to start on your car this afternoon, wasn't I. Emma, I'm…"

"Hey. Don't worry about it." She nudged him between the shoulder blades until he started forwards again. "I've still got plenty to work off, and it's not like you were going to get that far today anyways. It can wait another day."

"It'll be at the top of my list tomorrow." He promised, leading her up the rickety steps onto his porch. He stopped again then, so suddenly that she ran straight into his back before she could stop herself. "I'm going to warn you now, Swan – I'm not much of a housekeeper, and I wasn't expecting company…"

"As long as you deliver on the promise of pizza, I don't care about anything else."

"A woman after my own heart." He flashed her that crooked smile and finally pushed his way into the house, holding the door until she was in behind him. He disappeared off to the left into what she assumed was the kitchen, but she stayed just inside the doorway for a moment, letting her eyes roam over the interior.

What immediately struck her was that this didn't look like a guy's house. The wallpaper was a muted yellow with an understated floral pattern, there were sheer white curtains on all the windows, and the dark wood furniture had graceful lines and though it had clearly seen some use, it had been cared for. It almost looked like this was someone else's house entirely, and he was just living in it; if not for the fact that she knew he lived here alone, and for the clothes and newspapers and generalstuff strewn everywhere, she would have thought exactly that.

"The porch may be more comfortable, considering…" Killian reappeared, two bottles of beer in hand, and used one to gesture to the disarray of the living room.

"Porch sounds great." She accepted one of the bottles from him as he led her onto the porch and tipped it back, not realizing exactly how thirsty she had been until a third of the bottle was gone. "And thank you for this."

"This is twice now you've had to stay past closing – I think it's the least I can do."

"I don't mind." She sank into one of the chairs on the porch and let her eyes drift shut for a moment. It had been a long day, and between the lingering warmth of the setting sun and the sheer calm of sitting on a wide porch overlooking a field of swaying glass, she was dangerously close to falling asleep.

"So Swan," Killian said, and she reluctantly opened her eyes to look at him. "Where did you learn all of this?"

"All of what?"

"Mechanics. Because when you came in you told me you could change tires and oil, but so far you've handled everything I've given you and I haven't had to fix a single mistake, so I'm starting to bet that this is something more than a casual interest, but then you're not certified…"

"I…" The words caught in her throat. She hadn't expected him to ask anything as long as she was doing a good job, and there was really no easy way to tell this story without chasing him away. "I was a part of this…technical training program when I was 17, for a little under a year. It wasn't like a college thing, just…"

"Prison." He supplied easily, taking a swig of his own drink.

"What?"

"Don't look so shocked." He arched an eyebrow. "17 specifically, and for under a year? Might that be because you turned 18 and could no longer be held in juvenile detention?"

She nodded mutely. This was the part where he told her their deal was off and to get out. This was the part where she lost the car and this job and everything else.

"You could have just told me, Swan. I'm certainly not one to judge." He glanced over, and must have seen in her face that she felt numb from head to toe, because he chuckled lightly and tapped his bottle against hers. "Relax. I'm not going to do anything – I'm just curious."

"But…"

"I've had my suspicions for a while, Emma. Generally when serious mechanical knowledge comes without a certification, there's a reason why. And I know that they key to your car is in the shop, and since you didn't smash a window to get in I assumed you had found another way." He shrugged. "It doesn't much matter – hell, I spend some time myself when I was young."

"You were in prison." Her fear suddenly forgotten in light of his words, she arched a lazy eyebrow at him, the doubt thick in her voice. Yes, that smile of his screamed trouble every time he flashed it at her, and it's not that she doubted that he could have gotten himself into actual trouble with that grin and his attitude, but he seemed…she felt her cheeks flush even as she thought it, but he seemed too pretty for prison – the kind of man Hollywood would cast as a bad boy, instead of the bad boys who were bred in those cold cement block rooms.

"I'm downright offended that you don't believe me, Swan!' He waggled an eyebrow at her. "I was a pirate of the open road, each spin of my tires robbing men of victory, acclaim, their manhood…"

"Calm down, Shakespeare." She flicked a stray maple key at him, hitting him square in the temple.

"It was only briefly." He allowed. "Three days."

"They put you in prison for three days?"

"Well…they had meant to hold me overnight, but my brother had ideas about how a longer stay would set me straight, and just…delayed picking me up."

"Oh yeah, a real pirate of the road." she rolled her eyes. "That's called a police holding cell, Killian, not prison."

"They would have kept me longer, but they knew no brig could hold Killian Jones." He said, his voice full of fake bravado. She could tell he was about to continue, but a faint buzzing from inside cut him off. "And that would be our dinner."

He disappeared inside for a moment and she let her gaze follow him, a smile playing about her lips because didn't he just keep surprising her at every turn.

They dove into the pizza when he came back, eating in comfortable silence, the kitchen light shining through the window to cast a faint glow out onto the porch as the sun disappeared and the crickets started to chirp.

"Seriously, though." She said when they were both two slices in. "Why'd they arrest you?"

"Street racing." He shrugged a shoulder, and in it was a mix of remorse and casual pride. "There was this punk kid in a gaudy red Honda with this spoiler out the back, the exhaust making a hell of a racket, and he had this hat on backwards and the minute I pulled up to the stop light I just knewthat he would follow if I took off. So I did, and so did he, and neither of us cared that we were creeping up to 80 on a main road, but the cop we flew by sure did."

She couldn't help the laugh that escaped. "Tough breaks."

"Rookie mistake." He corrected with an answering grin, but it faded into something wistful and slightly empty. "When my brother picked me up, he made it very clear it wasn't going to happen again – said that screaming down the road feels powerful when you're behind the wheel but in a moment that can all change…" He closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair, and his knuckles around the beer bottle were suddenly white and bloodless. She saw the white of the air bag spilling out of the wreck's windows this afternoon, and she knew what he was seeing behind his lids. Then his eyes snapped open, and once again he looked perfectly, deliberately normal. "And yourself? Bank robbery? International espionage gone wrong? Paint an unflattering portrait of a public figure?"

"I…I was young, and…and for a moment I thought that the rules I had been telling myself to follow my entire life had been wrong." She picked at the crust of her third piece of pizza, suddenly not hungry. "Turns out I was wrong about that, and I had to pay for my mistake."

He just watched her for a moment, and she wanted to drop her head into her hands for being so candid. There was a reason she didn't talk about her life at 17, but something about the way he had asked…and now he was just staring at her without saying a word, and…

"I can't say I'm sorry," He said quietly, and though his tone was deliberately light, it sounded significant. "Because I got a great mechanic out of it. But Emma?" He waited until she looked up, catching her gaze and holding it. "Mistakes usually take two people to make, and the other guy? I hope he got way worse."

"They never do." She muttered, turning back towards the field stretching out in front of them. This had taken a serious turn so fast, and she was still reeling over the fact that she had actually toldhim – told him all of it, or as close to all of it as anyone had ever gotten.

"They will." He promised, swivelling in his chair to look in the same direction, letting the conversation lapse into silence for a few breaths before turning back towards her. "How good are you at Go Fish?"

She flashed him a brilliant smile – once again, he knew what she needed even before she did. "Good enough to beat your ass."

—-

They played until the light spilling out the window became too dim to see by, and then one game more for good measure. True to her word, she beat him more times than she lost, but only just. No matter the score, it was just nice to sit here in the burgeoning nighttime with the crickets and cicadas coming to life around them. They took their time playing, talking about everything and nothing, and it should have terrified her to be so comfortable sitting here with him, but it just…didn't. In fact, by the time she realized that it was late enough that she should probably leave, she was wishing that they had started earlier so the night could have stretched on a little longer.

As she was standing to leave, he stood with her and that hand drifted up behind his ear again. She could feel his gaze on her as she stacked her bottle and napkin in the empty pizza box, until eventually he said, "Emma, if it's too late, or if after today…if you need some company tonight, you're welcome to my guest room if you'd like it."

"I…thank you." She gave him a soft smile. "But I'll be okay – it's a short walk back and I'm probably just going to go right to sleep." He just nodded his response, moving to lean against one of the posts as she started down the steps and out into the yard. "But Killian? Thanks. For all of this."

"My pleasure, Swan." He raised his hand in a half-wave, and even when she reached the road and looked back at the house, he was still standing there watching her go.

It was only after she got back to the Inn and into bed did she realize that when he asked if she needed to stay, what he really meant was Would you?