Emma rolled over for what had to be the tenth time in as many minutes, glaring at the numbers on the clock flashing well past two in the morning. She had been in bed for hours, and even though it was almost not worth it to try and sleep now, and even though she could feel a headache creeping to life behind her eyes, no amount of laying absolutely still or listening to slow, soft music or ordering herself to stop thinking was bringing her any closer to drifting off. Even more than it annoyed her, her restlessness terrified her because she couldn't afford to be this silly or this hopeful.

That, and she just wasn't the kind of person who stayed up all night thinking about one kiss one time with one man.

Still, she couldn't help but ghost her hands over the stiff wool of her blanket and recall the rough stubble of his cheek under her palm, tilt her face towards the open window and let the soft breeze call to mind his breath against her lips as he whispered a thank you, let her thoughts linger on the way her scalp still tingled where his thumb had rubbed against it...

She glanced at the clock again. She had to be up, reasonably awake, and in that shop with him in just over four hours, and she could not be thinking things like this if she expected to last the day. It was ridiculous, fanciful, and such an impossibility of ever turning into anything, but still she wondered if he, too, lay awake in that empty house up on the hill, thinking about the way the two of them together felt like belonging.

She only slept two hours, and even then her dreams were of his hands against the warm, perfect yellow of her car.

The morning dawned crisp and clear, and by the time Emma made her way to the garage - half an hour later than usual because she had downed nearly a full pot of coffee at the diner and it had still been nowhere near enough - the sun was climbing steadily in the sky, promising a vicious heat later in the day. She could see from the base of the driveway that Killian had every door in the garage thrown open in an attempt to catch the stagnant breeze, and with the shop so open to the world she could also hear that he had the country station on and blaring.

Killian himself was out front, wiping down an old Volvo that was shimmering with beads of water. The car was ugly but pristine, and it was clear he was taking his time with it, wiping streaks from the windows with painstaking precision. He was so caught up that she was two feet from him before he heard her footsteps crunch in the gravel and whirled around to face her. He opened his mouth but no words followed, so for a moment the two of them just stared at each other. The skin around his eyes was soft and tired, but his smile when he flashed it at her a few beats later was genuine and he just looked alive there in the early sun.

"You ever replaced an air conditioner, Swan?" He asked in greeting. His fingers drummed against the hood of the car as he did, and now that he was speaking to her his eyes were skirting past hers to look at everything and anything else.

"Uh...not really, no. Why?"

"Because I'm going to teach you later." He jerked his chin up towards the garage, and something about it was stilted and rough. If not for the smile still on his face, she would have thought he was angry at her. "It's the CR-V up there, but there's a Buck Electra out back that needs a new timing belt, if you want to get started on that while I finish up here."

"I...yeah. Sure." She shook her head, bemused, and started up towards the garage. Even with her back to him, she could feel his tight, restless energy humming behind her, almost like there was something he was-

"Emma?" He called out. She half turned towards him, and he quirked a grin that was something between his usual, cocky twist of a smile and something young and innocent and wide open and be patient, I'm not used to this. Something in her chest shifted at the honesty in that expression, at the uncertainty that made him suddenly stiff and awkward, at the almost-crack in his voice when he said, "What, no good morning kiss?"

The words were barely out before she laughed, free and breathless and relieved and there he is, and his deep chuckle joined a moment later. This was new ground but they hadn't changed, not really.

"Buy me breakfast again and we'll see." She winked at him, walking backwards up to the garage so she could see the crooked flash of his familiar smile finally unfurl.

It only took him another half hour to finish with the car out front, so when he came to hover by the Buick's front bumper, she had only just gotten the old timing belt off. He watched her for a moment as she ran the belt through her fingers, shaking her head softly at the wear of it.

"Whoever's car this is is lucky this thing didn't snap on them weeks ago." She held the belt up so he could see the fibrous wall on the smooth side. "Look at that."

"Believe it or not, I've seen worse." He tossed the belt on top of the engine and inclined his head towards the inside of the garage. "Would you prefer I wait until you're done to start this air conditioner?"

"Nah. This can wait." She wiped her hands on the legs of her coveralls and followed him over to the Honda. Impossibly, it was warmer inside than it was out, and it wasn't even noon yet. "But please tell me this is a quick job so I can go back and hide in the shade?"

"I admire your optimism, Swan, but alas." He gestured grandly to the Honda's open hood and she didn't like the wicked glint in his eye. "We're replacing the compressor, expansion valve, and condenser to start, and maybe more depending on what we run into. But want to know the fun part?"

"I don't think I do, but okay."

"We get to take the front bumper off first to get at it."

Emma looked down at the bumper, smooth on one side but severely dented on the other, and when she turned back to him her eyebrow was already raised. "You expect that to come off?"

"Why do you think I recruited you for the job?" His grin was only growing wider.

"Remind me to murder you later." She said genially, but she accepted the screwdriver he held out and went to the un-dented side of the bumper to start loosening the clips that held the cover on. He smirked at her choice, but did he honestly expect her to take the side that was practically punched into the engine? While he wrestled his clips loose, she undid the bolts in the wheel well and on the underside of the car, including those on his side, and when she stood back up with the bolts in her hand she flashed him a wicked smile. "You know, when you said you were three hundred, I didn't really believe you, but seeing the speed you work..." she shrugged. "Sure you can handle this, old man?"

"Only if you can." He winked at her, nudging her back over to her side of the bumper, and how was he making this enjoyable? "I'll count to three, and then we'll both pull - but you'll have to be careful, because I'd prefer not to crack this whole thing in half if your end comes flying off and mine stays attached to the car. Got it?"

"Yes, thanks, I think I understand the principle of force." She rolled her eyes.

"If it happens, don't say I didn't warn you." He just shrugged in return. "Ready? One, two, three."

With a grunt, he yanked hard on the collapsed corner of the bumper, which barely shifted in place. A gentle tug and far less theatrics brought Emma's corner free, and she slowly worked her way across the front, working it loose, until the plastic started caving towards the largest of the dents.

"Knew this wouldn't be easy." Killian said, bracing his foot on the wheel as he tried again.

"Don't strain yourself, grandpa - I'll grab a crowbar or something." Emma knew she had seen one somewhere, maybe on the back bench...but she had barely turned to scan the mess of tools along the wall before she heard another grunt, the echo of plastic against a metal frame, and a loud "Bloody hell!"

"Don't tell me you snapped it." She whirled back around, expecting to see half the bumper on the floor, but it was still stubbornly intact. Then she noticed how his right fist was pressed firmly into his left palm, and how blood was already welling from between his fingers to drop vivd and red onto the concrete. "Jesus, Killian." Three wide, quick steps and she was right next to him, and it only took a quick brush of her fingertips against his wrist for him to move his right hand so she could see the mess of a gash that cut straight along his palm.

"What did you do?" She asked, tilting it slightly to catch the light.

"I pulled." He smiled at her, but it was shaky.

"Couldn't have waited for me to find a crowbar, could you?" She grabbed a rag out of her pocket and wrapped it tight around his hand, not letting the sound of his short hiss persuade her wrap it any looser. A mostly clean rag wasn't the ideal solution, but it would at least keep the wound covered until they got it some proper attention. "This might need stitches."

"No." His voice was a burst of sound, the wobbly smile gone from his face and a slightly frantic look creeping at the edges of his eyes. "I'll bandage it, keep some pressure on it, and it'll be fine."

"Killian, have you seen it? Have you seen the floor?" She gestured to the smattering of drops on the floor, and then looked pointedly at him. "This isn't something a bandaid is going to fix."

"I know, Swan, just...I know what I'm doing. Just let me, please."

"Fine." She released his hand, perhaps slightly more abruptly than she should have. "Do what you need to do. Go wrap some dirty rag around it. Get an infection for all I care. Bleed to death on your front porch."

"Emma..."

"Seriously. You're making a mess." She shoved him - but gently - between his shoulder blades. "Go fix that and just...stay at the house for a bit, okay? Let it at least try to heal a bit?"

"I'll be fine. I'll bandage it up and I'll be right back down."

"Killian." Her gaze snapped to his and she could feel something dangerous in it. It was one thing for him to injure himself on the job, and it was another thing entirely for him to be so cavalier about the result. "No. You're staying up there, you're letting it stop bleeding at the very least, and you're trusting me to handle myself here."

"Of course I trust you, Swan. It's just..." He trailed off as he studied her for a moment, saw in her face how unwilling she was to compromise on this, and nodded once. "Fine. I'm only a few hundred feet away if you need me. And I'll be back-"

"Christ, just go." She nudged him again, less gently this time, and watched for a moment as he walked up towards the house. "Killian?" She waited until he turned and offered him a slightly apologetic smile. "Just..wash it, okay? I really don't want to have to amputate your hand today."

"As you wish, Swan." She could tell he wanted to salute her, or something equally ridiculous, but with both hands pressed together to staunch the bleeding, he just tipped his head a fraction in her direction.

"Idiot." A smile played on her lips and she shook her head at him, watching him walk away for a moment before heading back to the garage.

Two hours later, she was sitting on the floor, a maintenance guide and printouts from Killian's computer spread out all around her and the Honda sitting like a challenge before her. She had looked through his maintenance list after he left to try and find something she knew how to do, but nothing made as much sense as trying to continue with the air conditioner, even if she did have to muddle through it. Despite what Killian said, she thought that maybe she could get at least some of the repairs done with the bumper cover still on the car, and the videos she had looked up in the office had made it look so easy...

About ten minutes with the car told her that those videos were an abject lie.

She was considering giving up, and probably should have an hour ago, but she had never developed the ability to back down from a challenge even though she was woefully unqualified to meet it. So here she was, drowning in a pile of instructions that weren't really helping.

Over the rustling papers and the sound of ciccadas buzzing outside, she heard gravel crunching in the front lot and stifled a smile. Despite her instructions to take it easy, Killian had been finding reasons to pop into the garage - he left his hat on the back workbench, there was an invoice in the office he wanted to flip through, he wanted a cup of coffee and he didn't want to make a new pot in his kitchen...every time she told him to go back up to the house and stop bothering her, but he never listened.

"For the hundredth time, Killian, I don't-" she twisted her body so she could see him walk in, but her admonishment trailed off as she realized the man hovering in the open doorway wasn't Killian, but Gold's would-be partner Marcus Johnson. Gold wasn't with him, but Emma's spine tensed as she stood nonetheless.

"Afternoon." Johnson bobbed a nod at her, and he looked nervous.

"Afternoon." She said, but she didn't invite him any further than the doorway, and he didn't push. She just went to stand opposite him, darting a quick glance up at the porch of the main house, half-hoping that Killian wasn't there to see Johnson here again, half-hoping that he was. "What can I help you with? Or are you just here to look around?"

"Nothing, and no." Johnson rubbed a hand over his head and his gaze dropped to the ground between them for a moment before flashing up to hers. She got the sense, again, that he wasn't the same type of man as Gold. "I wanted to apologize for our meeting yesterday."

"You didn't do anything wrong." She said, letting him see her eyes soften a fraction. "Nothing to apologize for."

"No, let me say it. Please. I didn't realize when we came that it wasn't something Mr. Gold had discussed with Mr. Jones, or with you, beforehand. Maybe it wasn't wrong, but it was impolite."

"Then thank you." She offered him a small smile, and the one she got in return was wide and honest and relieved. "I wasn't the most welcoming either, so I should really be the one apologizing to you."

"I wouldn't hear of it." He shook his head, that friendly smile still plain on his face, and then he looked past her to her spread of papers on the floor and the half-off bumper cover. "Having some trouble?"

"Air conditioner."

"Easier with the bumper cover off, you know."

"We tried that." She wandered a few steps further into the garage, toeing the bumper where it was bent and cratered. "It's on there pretty good."

"I've got a few tricks, if you'd like." He inclined his head towards the whole scene, and there was something about the set of his eyes that was so plainly helpful and genuine that reminded her of the pride in his voice when he told them about his garage.

So she said yes.

It became abundantly clear in the first twenty minutes that Marcus Johnson knew what he was doing. He showed Emma how to snake a rubber mallet up and under the wheel well and the exact angle to hit while he pulled on the bumper which, of course, slipped right off as easily as if it had never been stuck. Then there was the way he pulled out the broken parts, the sheer familiarity of it, that was so telling of the years he'd been doing this - longer than her, longer than Killian - even more so than the grey sprinkled through his thinning hair or the way the references he dropped as they talked were all years out of date.

Throughout it all, he told her about his family - wife who he'd met in the office he'd worked at briefly as a young man, son who lived in Taiwan with Johnson's first grandchild, daughter who ran a bakery in the same town as his garage, and who made the best croissants outside of France. And then there was his business - the endless, unabashed story of how he had started working out of the driveway of his family's home and now had a four-bay shop with fifteen employees and a laundry list of loyal customers. He shone when he talked about it, and she could see with astonishing clarity why he was working with Gold - the business was his life, a third child, and the chance to expand and see it grow even further...by the time he was done talking, she almost wanted the deal to go through, too.

She didn't say much about herself, but by the time she screwed in the last bolt on the new condenser, he was laughing at her jokes and when he clapped her on the back and told her she was practically an expert now, she let him see the wide smile on her face. He was just wiping his hands on his jeans and telling her that he'd bring her one of his daughter's croissants the next time he was in town, when Killian walked in.

Emma's back was to the garage doors so she didn't see Killian freeze in the doorway, didn't see his eyes darken a shade as he took in the scene, didn't see how his steps turned heavy and purposeful as he walked over, until he was right next to her and facing Johnson, his voice cool and barely together as he said, "I don't remember hiring another mechanic."

"Killian..." Emma's pinkie brushed his wrist but he didn't notice or didn't care, too busy staring down at the hand Johnson had extended.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know you were here or I would have said something." Johnson said, shaking Killian's hand firmly. He had on that same slightly apologetic smile as he had earlier, and Emma willed Killian to look at her so she could tell him - with her eyes or her words or a slap upside the head - that he was being an idiot and that she would have kicked Johnson out the moment he arrived if he was anything other than a genuinely nice guy.

"You'll understand why I'm not predisposed to believing you, I'm sure."

"I do, and that's why I came over." Johnson shot a glance at Emma, and Killian had to see it, but he didn't so much as turn his head. "I wanted to apologize for the impression I made earlier, and I wanted you to know that it's not my intention to sneak around another man's garage without him knowing."

"Then what were you doing in mine just now?"

"I told him it was fine, Killian." Emma said, and now she had his attention. "He came to apologize, and then he helped me with that stupid air conditioner. That's it."

Killian was silent, just staring at her, and she knew he was taken aback - rightly so, because she had been the opposite of friendly with this same man only yesterday - but after a long moment he just nodded slowly.

"Then thank you." He said grudgingly. "But only because I trust her, not because I trust you."

"That's fair." Johnson bobbed a curt not at Killian, and then flashed Emma a smile. "Emma, it's been a pleasure."

"You still owe me a croissant." She reminded him with a grin of her own. "And honestly, thank you. I'd still be on the floor with that manual if you hadn't come along."

"You would've figured it out. And I really did enjoy it. This place, the two of you...reminds me of me and my wife when we started out." He half-waved at them both, and ambled back towards the door and down the drive. Killian was silent, and Emma was just stunned. You remind me of me and my wife. She should call after him, tell him that it's not like that, tell him she's just here for her car...

"Interesting fellow." Killian finally said, breaking the silence with a voice that was maybe slightly strained.

"He's actually nice." Shesaid, snapping out of her thoughts. Then she remembered his tone when he had come in, and the silent promise she had made herself halfway through his conversation with Johnson that she was going to give him a hard time about it. She let a sly grin unfurl on her face, and punched him in the arm. "You asshole."

He just laughed.

She forgot what his reason was, but Killian made an excuse to hang around the garage for the rest of the day while Emma worked, fooling around with his eternal mess of tools on the back bench, flipping through a parts catalogue on the floor beside her as she switched out the brake pads on an ancient Buick, and generally getting in her hair in every possible way. She didn't mind - frankly, she preferred the garage filled with his stupid jokes and dry comments than empty without him - but it also meant that she caught herself talking to him instead of working more times than not, and that by the time they both realized that the sun was just a memory in the sky, it was nearing ten o'clock.

She hadn't been tired before, but the short walk from the garage to town gave her long day a chance to catch up with her, so by the time she got to her room at the Inn she was ready to crawl into bed.

Her bag sitting in the hall outside her door should have been the first indication that bed was not in her immediate future. She slung the strap of her duffel over her shoulder and went downstairs, knocking maybe a bit too loud on the owner's apartment behind the Diner. The woman - she had told Emma the first night to call her Granny - opened the door with a fierce look on her face and an admonishment clearly ready on her lips, but when she saw who it was her expression fell into something...something almost ashamed.

"Please tell me someone left my stuff in the hall by mistake?" Emma asked, even knowing that was a long shot.

"I'm sorry, dear. The room's booked up. When you booked the room I didn't think you'd be staying so long, and this was a standing reservation."

"Can I switch rooms, then?"

"I'm afraid not." Emma had never seen Granny without a steely look in her eyes, be it booking rooms at the Inn or serving coffee at the Diner, but the look in the woman's eyes now was apologetic and flighty, barely meeting Emma's as she said, "All our rooms are booked. I'm sorry."

Emma felt herself go almost numb as Granny shut the door softly, and she had a sneaking suspicion that this had nothing to do with bookings and everything to do with her conversation with Gold the day before. If that was the case, she knew there was no reason to try and track anything else down in town, either.

The trek back to the garage gave her plenty of time to admonish herself for baiting Gold the day before - he was a snake in a man's clothing, but if she had just been civil she would be in bed right now instead of walking up a dark road with a heavy bag hitting her in the backs of the legs to sleep in a car that didn't even start. Her temper had gotten her in trouble before, and she really never did learn.

The lights were on in Killian's house but the garage was dark when she got there, the doors locked, and she prayed that he hadn't locked her car after that night she had broken into it. Yes, she could probably do it again, but finding a piece of wire stiff enough to pop the lock had been a miracle the first time, let alone twice. She was lucky, though, because when she tried the door handle it swung open immediately, and even though the situation was less than ideal, she smiled softly at it. Yes, the car was realistically just a pile of metal and leather and plastic, but the door swinging open at the end of a long day was welcoming in an almost sentient way she knew, objectively, a car could never really be, but somehow this one was. She slung her duffel into the back seat and slipped into the driver's side, slamming the door and letting the silence inside the car wrap around her. She smoothed her hands over the leather of the steering wheel and let the feeling of it ground her, breathed in the familiar scent of leather and cloth and the formless haze of heat from the long day in the lot, and let it convince her that everything was fine, it was going to be fine.

She closed her eyes and tipped her head back against the seat, and let it all wash over her: the long trip from Boston, the miles of road she put behind her in this car, the hours in this garage with the sweet-scented breeze blowing through the doors...a corner of her brain told her that she should probably move to the back unless she wanted to fall asleep curled up in the small between the seat and the steering wheel, but before she could make a decision one way or another, a small breath of wind ghosted over her arm and the car dipped to the side as someone opened the door and slid into the passenger seat.

"You can't sleep in here again." Killian said without preamble. She opened one eye and arched an eyebrow in return.

"Last time I checked, I was out of options."

"I thought you were staying at Granny's."

"The rooms are all booked." Emma said with a sigh. There was a hint of bite in her voice, but it was muted by the late, quiet night. "And I didn't even bother to check anywhere else, but-"

"They'd all be booked as well." Killian set a heavy, deliberate hand down on the dash, finger by finger, and something about the caution of it told her that he wanted to hit it hard in frustration. "Granny hasn't been fully booked since she opened the Inn, and she bloody well isn't now. I told you Gold would get you back, didn't I?"

"You did." She conceded.

He was quiet for a moment, let the space fill with the choices she could have made by hadn't, and then tapped two fingers resolutely against the centre console and opened his door.

"Right then." He said. "You're coming with me."

"Excuse me?"

"Emma, you're not spending the rest of your time here sleeping in the back seat of this car." He rolled his eyes like it was preposterous, like she hadn't done exactly that for weeks at a time before she got here. "And I want to start on it tomorrow, and I'm not loading it on and off the jack every day just so you can sleep in it when I have a perfectly good guest room at the house."

"Killian, I can't."

"You can, you will, and what's more you have no other choice." He ducked out of the car and reached into the back to grab her duffel. For lack of a better idea, she got out too, staring at him over the hood. She saw the flash of his teeth as he shot her a smile, and something in her chest shifted. "Emma, if you really don't want to, I'll help you find somewhere else - my friend Dave would let you stay with him and his wife, no questions asked. But the guest room is yours if you want it." She could see the silhouette of his hand coming to rub behind his ear before he continued. "It won't mean anything more than a place to stay, if you're worried about-"

"I'm not...that's not it." She thumbed at the groove of the doorframe where it met the roof, not looking at him. "What you're doing already is more than I-"

"If you're about to say it's more than you deserve, Swan, don't. I'm sure we'd disagree, and then we'd be here all night." He hefted her bag onto his shoulder, no small feat considering one hand was still wrapped in a tight white bandage, and inclined his head towards the house. "Let's just say I want to, alright? For my best mechanic." Even in the dark, she knew he was smiling his wide, teasing smile as he repeated the words she had said to him weeks before.

"I'm your only mechanic, you idiot." She said in response, but jogged around the car to follow him up to the house. She heard more than saw his exaggerated shrug, and if he had turned around right then he would have seen the soft smile that she couldn't keep off her face.

It should have terrified her, how comfortable the shape of the house looked lit up at the top of the hill. It should have terrified her how readily she said yes to his offer, and how much it felt like she belonged in this place after so short a time.

It should have, but like so many things with him, it just didn't.