I knew I needed to talk to Neal, but I kept putting it off. It was a week later when I finally got up the courage to go over to his place. I pulled into the parking lot of his building and walked up the front steps of the ancient brownstone. Climbing the stairs to his door, I found it open, the apartment completely empty. I walked back down to the ground floor where the manager's apartment was located and knocked.

"Yeah," his sleep weary voice said as he opened the door. He was dressed in boxers and a wife-beater. I had never met the man, and I wasn't was sorry.

"Hi, I'm Emma Swan, Neal Cassady's… friend. I was just up to his apartment, but it's empty."

"Yeah, moved out two days ago. He and his girl were heading to New York."

"New York?" I asked, stunned.

"Yeah, New York," and he closed the door in my face.

I walked back to my car and just drove. Somehow I wound up back at the Jolly Roger. A few regulars were dispersed around the dimly lit room with a small group of guys were playing darts. I looked towards the bar and found Killian staring at me through the mirror. We hadn't seen each other since I had walked out of his apartment.

As I walked over to sit next to him, he raised two fingers to the bartender to order us drinks. I picked mine up and sipped. It was not my usual, but it was delicious and smooth. "Mmm, what is this?" I asked.

"It's Jolly Roger whiskey. Some of the best stuff a lot of money can buy," he said. "Drink up, love," he said, clinking our classes together.

I took another drink. It really was quite good. "Neal and Milah bailed and went to New York."

"Aye. I heard."

We sat there, together, drinking expensive whiskey, neither of us having a clue what to do next. Killian sat his glass down and turned on the barstool to face me.

"So, about the other night…" he started.

I took another drink. I knew where the conversation was headed. I had been thinking about that night over and over for a week, usually lying in my bed at night, getting myself all hot and bothered. I started thinking about what I did after I got myself all hot and bothered, and then I sat there blushing and, well, getting all hot and bothered. The man was a demon. He had to be.

Killian was watching me closely. I wondered if he could see my face heating up or if the dim lighting hid it well enough. Knowing that even if he couldn't see my blushing, he would probably see it if I looked up into his eyes. I decided to risk it. His were clouded with something I couldn't quite read. He glanced out towards the main room of the bar, struggling for words to express whatever was on his mind. After a moment, I turned back to the bar to nurse my drink.

Without turning, he finally began to speak. "I was angry," he said in a huff of breath. "I think back, and I can't begin to figure out why, though. I knew there was something off with Milah and me a long time ago. I just refused to see it, I guess. Didn't want to deal with it." He turned back to the bar, still not looking at me. "I had hoped we had something special, something that was on par with what you and Neal had. I thought about proposing more than once…" He tapered off. He took my hand and caressed my finger, the one that, until a week ago, had worn Neal's ring. His hand was still bandaged from smashing the window.

"How's your hand feeling?" I asked.

Ignoring my question, he got up and went to put money in the jukebox. Leaning over the Plexiglas, he punched in whatever songs he had chosen. He shoved himself off the machine and sauntered back, sitting heavily on the barstool.

Taking my hand back in his, he continued to stroke my fingers. "I didn't realize until she was gone why I hadn't been able to." He stopped again, his fingers stilling on my hand. He laced his bandaged fingers through mine and pulled my hand to his mouth for the softest kiss. "That morning, I didn't know what to say to you. You were trying so hard to make things alright, but they just weren't. I never wanted you like that."

"Killian," I choked, pulling my hand free. He never wanted me. "Look, I know you loved Milah. I'm sorry I took advantage of your pain to try to assuage my own. It wasn't fair, and now things are totally screwed up."

I stared at her face, and I could tell she was near tears again. She took advantage of me? I laughed out loud. I couldn't help myself. She turned her head to look at me, eyes clouded with confusion and, damn it, pain. I took her face in my hands and pulled her to me, leaning my forehead against hers.

"Sweet, sweet Emma, love, I'm pretty sure it was I who took advantage of you. I didn't mean to laugh, love, it's just so preposterous. And I'm so sorry for what happened. You're right, of course, neither of us was in a place even remotely not bad, and what happened was quite amazing despite the fact that it does muck things up a bit."

"Still," she said, "if things hadn't been what they were, that never would have happened."

I pulled away from her, trailing my hand down her cheek to rest on her shoulder, thumbing her neck. "Emma, all things considered, no, if Neal and Milah hadn't cheated on us and left us both alone, I like to think that neither of us would have done what they did and ended up in bed together. I would very much like to believe that we are both more honorable than that."

Still refusing to look me in the eye, she turned back to the bar. "Honorable. Right." Her voice was dull. She sat there, staring at her glass for several minutes. I had no idea what to say to her.

How could Mary Margaret even think that Killian had a crush on me? That's just crazy. He just laughed at my ability to seduce him, and then he goes off and says that he never would have slept with me. It wouldn't have been honorable. Jesus Christ! I'm not hideous. First Neal, and now even Killian, the incurable flirt, thinks I'm hilariously not sexy.

I felt a tear start to fall, and I didn't want him to see me cry again. I faked a sneeze to grab a napkin to wipe my eyes. "So, basically, if not for the circumstances you wouldn't have touched me with a ten foot pole."

I looked over at him, glaring at him, daring him to deny it. His eyes were huge, and then he smiled at me again. The bastard smiled at me.

"That isn't what I meant," he started.

"Nope, I'm good. Mary Margaret seemed to think that since our respective dates for the various wedding events have effectively bailed on us, we could go together. I think I'd rather go stag." I finished my drink in one gulp, and walked out of the bar.