I APOLOGIZE FOR THE DELAY! I HAVE FOUND A NEW JOB AND IT MAKES IT A BIT HARD TO WRITE AS MUCH AS I WOULD LIKE TO, BUT I DON'T HAVE THE SLIGHTEST INTENTION TO STOP AT ALL. I AM ALMOST FINISHED WITH MY TOHER LARGE MULTI CHAPTER, "LILLY", AND I HAVE A COUPLE OTHERS THERE IN MY COLLECTION ("REDBLOOD FIREFLY" AND "PIRATE ADVISORY; EXPLICIT LYRICS") TO LOOK FORWARD TO COMPLETING AS WELL.

THIS CHAPTER WAS SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE FOR SO MANY REASONS... AND I HOPE I HAVE CONVEYED THAT JOY PROPERLY THROUGH THE WRITING. I DID NOT BETA THIS, SO APOLOGIES FOR THE TYPEO'S AND MISTAKES. HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS! AND AS ALWAYS, BIG THANKS TO ALL WHO FOLLOW, FAVORITE AND REVIEW... PLEASE DON'T STOP REVIEWING! REVIEWS ARE THE SAM TO MY FRODO, THE GINGER TO MY FRED, THE MOJO TO MY AUSTIN! THANK YOU!

Mornings in school seemed renewed, fresh and sunny.

Henry, for the first time in a year, was actually feeling happy and was making good progress in his grades. Liam was satisfied with his progress, so much in fact, that he decided to stick it out one more week; for the sake of the boy…. And for the sheer morbid curiosity of seeing where Killian would get with the beautiful young waitress, Emma Swan.

The boy sat by the garden bench, eating a sandwich as his gaze was fixed on a distant spot. A distant blond spot.

"Hello. Can I sit with you?"

The little girl with dark hair with the British accent was no longer the same annoying imp she used to be, at least not in Henry's mind. "Hi, Meg. I thought you'd be with your friends."

The little girl sat herself down. "I am."

Henry turned around, stunned, and found her smirking at him. "Oh, don't look so surprised!" She shrugged. "We were friends before you hit my head; I got you expelled. We're even."

"That was your dad."

"Yeah… because you bopped me between the eyes." She laughed. "But I know what it feels like… Wanting to smack everyone silly because you're so angry at times."

Henry sighed and nodded. "Yeah. Thanks." He looked down. "I feel like a prize winning jerk for what I did to you."

"It's in the past." She shrugged.

Henry took another bite from his sandwich and resumed gazing in a random blond direction, his eyes fixed on an indifferent blond spot.

Megan narrowed her eyes and followed his stare. She giggled and shook her head. "Oh, my god…" She giggled and shook her head.

He turned sharply. "What!"

"You have a crush on Paige!"

The boy gulped and blushed with a huge fury. "You're nuts."

"No. YOU'RE nuts if you think you're not being incredibly obvious." She grinned back.

Henry turned completely to Megan. "If this is your way of making me head-butt you again and make me fail at my parole, you're out of your mind."

Megan laughed aloud. "Why on earth would I want that!?" She shook her head. "Boys… Pff, blimey." She looked over in Paige's direction. "She is rather lovely…"

Henry simply sighed longingly.

"Well?" she shrugged. "Why don't you go talk to her?"

Henry laughed. "Yeah, right."

"I mean it!" Megan turned to him, her sky-blue eyes wide open and blinking. "We have that spring-break prom next week, why don't you ask her to come with you?"

"You really don't get the ironic value of a person saying, 'yeah, right', do you?" Henry shook his head. "There is no way I'm going to talk to her, let alone ask her to be my date, come on!"

"And why not?" Megan huffed. "It's obvious that you like her! You might be in for a pleasant surprise..."

"So what if I like her?" he shrugged with a flush of pink enhancing the freckles on his cheeks. "She's too awesome; she's probably already been asked by Hansel over there. Look at him."

"So… There's only one way you could find out, isn't there?" She scolded him. "You will feel like such a ninny if you find out that no one had asked her yet and that you missed your chance because you were too scared to give it a go."

"I really don't think she would like me back." He sighed. "I mean, look at her! She's so pretty and I'm…" He trailed off and just sighed again.

"So… you think she would reject you because you look a certain way?" She smiled. "Ok, hear me out: You may not be Zak Effron, but you are definitely not hideous. And she's only a girl! Come on! She might like you if you give it a chance! Believe it or not, we girls are not all about looks. We just like a boy that knows how to treat a lady."

Henry laughed. "Sounds a lot like your dad."

"My father is a complete gentleman and you could learn a thing or two from that. Don't go knocking him. Now… will you ask her or won't you?"

Henry shook his head. "No."

"Ugh, suit yourself then. Just sit here and fester." Megan rolled her eyes sideways to him and grinned playfully. "What else do you have in your lunchbox?"

"An apple…"

"Hmm." Megan nodded. Then, like some sort of crazy ninja, she made a lightning fast move and grabbed the apple.

"Wh… MEGAN!" Henry moaned, standing after the dark-haired girl.

She smiled at him. "I'm doing you a favor." She winked at him and hopped her way to where Paige was sitting with her friends, eating her lunch.

"Oh, no…" Henry gulped.

"Hi!" Megan smiled.

Paige looked up at her and instantly smiled. "Hi, Megan."

"Listen, he's not too good at socializing, but…" she shrugged. "This apple is from Henry Cassidy. He was a bit shy about giving it to you, so… I volunteered. Here!" She handed the apple over to Paige. The beautiful blonde grabbed it and then looked around Megan's arm..

"Wh… where is he?" She frowned.

Megan giggled, seeing that Henry had gotten the hell out of dodge. "Oh, probably in the loo, like I said, he's… rather shy. But…" She shrugged. "Maybe later you can tell him thanks?"

Paige looked at the apple in her hand and smiled up at Megan. "Can you… do me a favor?"

"Yes, of course."

Paige's friends giggled as the pretty blond girl pressed her lips together and blushing slightly. "Can you ask him for me if…" She shrugged. "Well, if he wants to come with me to the spring break dance? If he hasn't asked anyone, I mean… I…"

Megan's eyes widened. "Wait… you… You are asking him out?" she bit her lower lip. "Shouldn't he be the one to ask you out?"

Paige frowned. "What are you, three hundred?"

Megan nodded and sighed. "Good point. All right. That should please him. But if you want to know his answer, however, you'll have to go talk to him yourself. All right?"

Paige sighed and shrugged. "All right."

Megan grinned smugly and hoped back to where Henry had been seated. She looked around and was terribly amused to find him hiding behind a tall bush, staring daggers at her. She giggled and again hopped her way to him.

He immediately started to spit out.

"Thank you, so so so much for making me look like a complete moron with the hottest girl in school, she's probably out there laughing her head off because of what you did and I'm going to be ridiculed by her posse everywhere I go and people will laugh at me in the hall now and I'm going to feel like a complete loser because you couldn't simply not…"

"Will you shush!" she stopped him. "You have a date."

Henry stopped cold. "Wait… what?"

She shook her head. "She asked me to ask you if you want to take her to the spring break ball in two weeks."

Henry was wide-eyed. "You're bluffing."

"Why on earth would I? Boys are so silly, I swear to god." She shook her head and walked away, before turning suddenly and grinning. "One more thing: she might come to you to get your answer personally, so whatever you do, DON'T be a fool and act normally, ok?" She winked at him. "You're welcome." She sang and hopped away, just as the bell rang.

Henry was frozen in his spot, his stomach playing a complete symphony within him and he could have sworn he was about to chuck back his sandwich.

But he was happy. I mean, damn you, Megan, but… thank you Megan.

And yes; right after science class, Henry was at his locker in the hall, looking for his History notebook, when a soft and gentle voice startled him. "Henry?"

As he turned around, the book, notebook, his pencil case and a packet of stale-hard gummy bears spilled on to the floor. As the pencil case hit the ground, it opened and pencils, pens and sharpeners spread out like candy from a pinata.

Of course, Paige giggled.

He awkwardly started to pick things up and was startled to suddenly find Paige helping him.

This… could… not… be… happening.

He grinned a terribly awkward grin. "Th… thanks." He huffed as he took the pens and pencils from her hand.

"No, thank you, for the apple." She smiled.

He was about to say 'That was Megan, not me', but he simply pressed his lips hard and tight as he nodded. "Sure. Any day. I had pears at home as well, I didn't know what to bring, but I just grabbed the apple and …"

"Apples are my favorite." She smiled.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Ok. Well… you're welcome."

She stood in front of him, pressing her books to her chest. "So… about the dance…" She swallowed nervously.

Henry smiled and sighed deeply enough to calm down his already aching head. "Yeah, that, I…. Yeah. You want to… come with me to the spring break ball? If… no one else has already… you know…"

She simply smiled from ear to ear, jumped and kissed his cheek, earning herself (and him) a bunch of "Woo's" from the kids around them. "I'd love to!" She smiled, blushing an insane red and biting her lower lip. "See you in art class tomorrow. Oh!" She swallowed. "Mr. Jones put up an add on the bill board; he's looking for people to help out with the decorations for the ball and I… kind of volunteered. Wanna join?"

Henry could not have said no if he had had all the will power in the known universe; he was helpless now.

He simply nodded.

"Great!" She bit her lip. "So, see you in class tomorrow… and after school!"

As she hopped away, Henry suddenly felt like the world's luckiest man.

He made a mental note to give Megan a huge hug.

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During the days he wasn't teaching in school, Killian often still took on random jobs fixing and washing boats for the wealthier people of Storybrooke. His favorite ship belonged to a former business exec who had made a clever living out of his hobby; William Smee owned the town's boating business, often commercializing in small ships, fishing vessels, sport boats and yachts within Storybrooke. The ship, a 12-meter sailing Gulet, was called The Wanderlust, and was truly a beauty with it's wooden floors, tall triangular sails and polished, shiny finishing.

Seeing Killian's definite skill with ships, Smee actually trusted him with the Wanderlust enough and had once even allowed him to take her for a small spin around the bay; the handsome former artist seemed keen on it at first, but after only a few minutes on the water, fantasizing about maybe one day trying once again to sail his own ship professionally, his stomach started to twist; after that, his palms broke into a nasty sweat and his breathing became elaborated. He turned the helm and headed back to the docks, dizzy and stricken by a definite panic attack.

That was the last time he boarded the Wanderlust (and any other ship) for anything other than maintenance and supervision.

That afternoon, after (once again) fixing the smoky engine of Leroy's ship (the guy really had to learn a thing or two about gears in ships; they're not tractors!), he went to the art supplies shop to purchase some materials both for his class as well as for his daughter to take to school; his fingers were suddenly drawn to a small box of graphite sticks, and he added them to his cart, thinking Megan could very well find them useful… Or Henry.

In all truth, he wads thinking of Henry.

Aside from her looks, Megan had inherited a lot of her mother's traits: she was kind to animals, was uncannily talented at dancing (he'd been considering enrolling her in ballet after school), had a heck of a singing voice and could do math like few children her age; however, and much to his chagrin, she was never too good with a pencil, no more than a regular girl her age. Henry, on the other hand, was incredibly gifted.

He would definitely try to encourage the boy to develop that particular talent.

Once he left the shop with a bagful of art supplies, he was heading back home for lunch when his phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Ahoy!" A friendly voice spoke.

"Ah, Mr. Smee!" Killian smiled. "How are you today?"

"Peeved… I was just told I missed you by a few minutes. I just arrived at the docks and was kid of hoping to find you here." He huffed. "I have a new canvass, to change the main-sail. It arrived this morning and it's in the back of my pick-up truck, but I can't… well, I have no idea how to change it."

"The Wanderlust?"

"Yeah."

Killian frowned. "But the sail is in fine shape. Why do you…?"

"I'm giving that one away to my son in the Hamptons." Smee replied. "His own is kind of… busted, so I figured I'd get a new one for myself and let him keep the one from the Wanderlust. It's in fairly good shape, as you say, so…"

"I see…" He looked at his watch. "Well, if you don't mind, I'd like to go by my flat first for a bite and then I could…"

"No, no, look, you can raid the fridge in the Wanderlust! Honest! And I'll give you a hundred and fifty bucks for it! The thing is, I have to go to New York in about three hours and I'd really, really like to take the canvass over to my son so I don't have to do a double trip!" he pleaded. "I hate to impose, Killian, I really do, but… could you?"

The man huffed. "All right."

"Good man!" Smee sighed with relief. "I'll be right here."

"Fine, I'll be over in ten minutes, or less."

Sure enough, as he approached the dock, Killian found Mr. William Smee pacing from side to side of the dock, speaking on his phone. He chuckled; why a wealthy man like Smee would wear that ragged, red beanie with holes in it, he'd never know.

"Ah, there he is!" Smee smiled. "I'll call you back… yeah… bye." He hung up the phone and paced to Killian. "Sorry to drag you back like this."

"No problem at all." Killian replied, looking into the back of the pick-up truck. He lifted the plastic and touched the fabric of the sail canvas, feeling it between his index and thumb. "This is quite good." He nodded before turning to Smee. "Spectra?"

"Nope. Zylon. And the edges are carbon fiber." Smee smiled. "Figured if I was going to renew the sail, why not go all out?"

Killian raised his eyebrows and whistled in admiration. "Well, this ought to hold for the next twenty years, at least." He smiled. "It's a fine sail, Mr. Smee."

"I know." Smee nodded. "But for the life of me, I can't handle the knots. So… could you?"

Killian nodded. "Aye. I'll be done in an hour or so. Just help me carry this into the ship and help me haul the older sail back into your truck."

"Sure… look, I'll help you carry this one; then I have to go to the store to see some people who are dealing for a catamaran, and then I'll come back and help you carry the other one back down."

"Very well."

The two men hauled the heavy, folded canvas out from the truck and into the Gulet, Mr. Smee then left, entrusting the young man with the task of hoisting the new main sail.

After lowering the older sail and pulling it down from the main mast, he hooped the new canvas into the rope, he pulled at the pulleys and up went the crisp new sheet. It was a crisp white with a yellow and orange sun emblazoned in the middle, and as soon as it was hoisted up, Killian could feel the pull of the wind tug the boat slightly. He himself had never seen the newest tech in sails and he was unable to contain a satisfied smile when the new canvas bent with the wind.

"She's looking good there!"

The sound of Emma's voice drew his attention.

"Swan!" He laughed as he dusted his hands. "Should I file a restraining order? Why is it that you seem to be at the docks every time I'm here as well?"

"I told you, I like to walk here. I swear, I'm not stalking you." She giggled as she squinted, looking up at the new sail. "You're taking her out for a ride?"

Killian gulped, the mere idea of sailing her no more than ten feet away sickening him. "N… no, actually, I was just changing the main sail for her owner." He looked up into the sail and smiled. "That's quite an amazing canvas. Must have cost him a bloody fortune, but a man like William Smee could afford it, I suppose."

Emma nodded with a smile. "How do you know so much about boating?"

The handsome man turned his face to Emma and gulped. "I used to do it. It was a hobby."

"Used to?" she frowned as she approached the edge of the dock, her hand gingerly touching the edge of the railing.

"Aye. Family thing." He looked around him. "Care to hop on?"

Emma shook her head. "No! Killian, it's not your boat, I mean…"

"It's fine, love, Mr. Smee trusts me."

Emma grunted, unsure whether or not she should climb into her at all. "You… sure?"

"Aye, completely positive, Swan, it's fine, come on!" He walked closer to the edge of the gangplank, holding his hand out. "The plank is a tad wobbly, love. Grab hold."

Emma cleared her throat and slowly made her way up, reaching for Killian's hand.

And liking it.

She jumped in and swiftly freed herself from his grip before she started blushing. She looked around and held on to the mast as she felt the wobble of the boat, bobbing on the water more than usual from the pull of the sail. "Wow…" she smiled and chuckled. "This is… great!" She looked at her surroundings. "Not quite what I expected in a yacht, I mean, wood?"

Killian laughed softly. "This is not a yacht, darling. It's a gulet." He smacked his open hand on the mast as he looked around the ship. "Hand crafted in Bodrum, Turkey. This is a more traditional kind of boat. She does have an engine, but the true charm of these vessels resides in their sailing qualities."

"Qualities?"

"Yes, they tend to be a little less smooth than a heavy fiber yacht, but these beauties can handle speed and tall waves like no other barge. They're lighter, thoroughly made of wood, and because of their curved bottom hull they can actually withstand storms with certain ease." He smiled at her. "Gulet is the Turkish word for schooner. Believe me, these are probably some of the finest sail boats ever made."

"Wow…" she smiled at him. "I'm impressed. You know your boats!"

Killian breathed through a thick smile. "Aye. I started reading about them as a young boy. I drew them as well. For a long time, I would daydream about being a pirate and sailing with the famous buccaneers of yore…"

Emma nodded. "Henry tells me you're Captain Hook now." She grinned. "Nice show of patience against school mockery."

Killian laughed and shook his head. "They're but children. Besides, they've taken a liking to being called bilge rats." He started pulling the sail back to lower it and the bobbing decreased. He then proceeded to try to fold the older sail into a manageable shape.

"And that one's getting tossed away?" Emma shrugged.

He shook his head, grunting as he pulled and pushed and folded. "No… apparently, Smee's boy in The Hamptons needs a new one for his OWN Gulet." He stood huffing and looking definitely flushed from the efforts. "Bloody hell, this is heavy. No wonder he wanted to change it. That new one is lighter than a feather. If Smee's not careful, this ship will fly."

Emma laughed and walked to him. "Need a hand?"

He looked into her eyes and shook his head. "Naa. He'll be by shortly."

Their little awkward silence was suddenly interrupted by a very loud growl of his stomach. He smiled, embarrassed at her amused expression. "Well, aye, I admit, I've not had lunch quite yet."

Emma nodded. "Well, I just got off my shift at Granny's and have a couple of hours before I go to work again… if you like I can run back to the restaurant and get you something."

"Out of the question." He shook his head. "Smee's got a fully stocked kitchenette downstairs."

"Killian!" She gasped. "It's one thing to ask me on board and it's quite another to feed on his food!"

"He asked me to, swan." He nodded. "Trust me, I've kept the Wanderlust in good shape for him for four years. He trusts me well enough." He stepped down into the kitchen and returned with a few things. "Look, we've cheese, bread, crackers, pate… and wine… and…" He produced a can of apple soda. "This one's for the resident alcoholic."

Emma smiled. "You really are trying, aren't you?"

The way she looked into his eyes made Killian shudder internally. He gulped, feeling slightly naked but peaceful; she had that effect on him. "For my daughter, I'd go to the end of the world. My drinking habit hurt us both more than what I care to admit; it makes me not think for a few hours, but there are some hurts that just… won't go, so what's the point? It had to stop."

She nodded. "I admire that."

"You do?"

"It must be hard." She sighed. "I still don't know what led you to that, but whatever it was, it must have cut deep. But then, here you are, decidedly turning away from a delicious glass of…" She tried to read the label of the bottle, her French pronunciation thickly engulfed with very American r's. "Lalou-Bizte Leroy domaine d'Auvenay…"

"Emma, do stop, you're breaking the language's heart!" he laughed. "The French might crucify you for bastardizing one of the finest lingos in the world."

"Oh, excusaaay moah!" she faked resentfulness. "I wasn't reared in the lap of luxury like certain dissident rich kids from England that I happen to know!"

Killian laughed again, shutting his eyes tight, and shook his head in embarrassment. "Apologies, love, didn't mean to sound patronizing."

"You did…. But it's kind of charming on you." She shrugged. "Pardon my French."

He smiled again as she sat down on the floor and laid down her pashmina to use as a tablecloth, patting on the wooden planks for Killian to sit. He grinned and placed the items on the floor, ran back to the kitchenette again to procure knifes, forks and a couple of glasses, and returned to sit with his impromptu date, opening up pate jars, cheese packets and…

Wait… date?

"Anyway…" She tilted her head to a side as she reached of a knife and a cracker, spreading a creamy and rich looking pate on the surface of it. "That wine looks expensive."

He swallowed hard. "That it is. This particular bottle goes somewhere between twelve and sixteen hundred dollars."

Emma nearly choked on her cracker. "You… what?" she spoke, her mouth full, and after swallowing with certain difficulty, she looked at him, wide-eyed. "And you just dragged that out here for me to drink it? Don't you think your employer might blow a fuse?"

Killian shook his head. "No."

"No?"

He smiled, apparently embarrassed to be so damned refined. "No. He has a Coute de Nuis down there, called Henry Jayer Richeburg Grand Cru. Now if we cracked THAT one, he'd cut my balls off."

"Why?"

"Because that bottle alone can sell for fifteen to seventeen thousand dollars."

"CRAP!" Emma spat, amusing Killian with her overly shocked reactions. "Why the hell is that so expensive?"

"Because…" Killian said as he uncorked the "cheaper" wine for Emma, his eyes fixed on the opening, and poured her a cup. "That particular bottle is a 1961 harvest. The man that made these wines passed away in 2002 and the production stopped. A newer bottle could sell for perhaps…" he twisted his lips as he re-corked the bottle. "I don't know, eleven hundred. And there are a few that are older than this one and if the wine is in fine condition, it can reach six figures." He took the glass from Emma and simply smelled it. "This one is fine too, Swan. Burgundy, very rich, lavender and maybe bergamot… and I won't even taste it or I'll guzzle the whole bloody bottle down myself. Here you go, I'll settle for the soda." He grinned, and as she took the glass, he opened his can and held it out for a toast. "To the lovely company."

She stared at him with a bemused look in her eyes, and as he drank his soda, he returned the gaze. "You look amused, Emma."

"I am. Very, very amused." She nodded. "I mean, you know your stuff, you know about ships, sails, wines, art… you have an AMAZING accent as it is AND you speak friggin' French. I mean, what even are you, Killian and what the hell are you doing in this ridiculous town?"

he merely grinned at her. "Like I said, Swan: Being in a certain circle and having been to fine boarding schools do not necessarily make a man happy. I may have learned a lot of things, but not things of any real value." He took a couple of wrapped cheese slices, unwrapped them and turned to Emma. "These things are nothing but stale milk." He showed her one of the samples on a cracker. "Look at it. The more bacteria it has and the worse it smells, the more expensive it becomes. It's mind-boggling, really, and quite stupid. It might taste good, but in the end, we all know what happens to the food we eat." He winked. "And in that sense, the end result is equally gross, whether you're rich or poor."

Emma had to laugh aloud. "Wow, that's really deep, Killian." She stared at him as he popped the cracker and cheese into his mouth, grinning as he chewed, his deep, metallic blue eyes fixed on hers. "But you're right." She took the glass and sipped the wine, and her world suddenly stopped as the opulent thickness of the drink flooded her taste buds. She looked back at him. "No, wait. I take that back. This is… absolutely… incredible!"

He laughed again… and once more, Emma could have sworn she could be quite content listening to that laughter every day.

And that was already saying a lot.

"Well, why don't you take the bottle with you?" He smiled. "And keep it away from Henry."

She chuckled. "Yeah, he'll drink it like it was root beer."

"I'm serious, Swan, take it with you." He shrugged. "Smee's got like twelve of these."

Emma frowned. "He… won't mind?"

He shook his head. "Trust me. He's bloody well-moneyed. He could care less, and besides…" He gave her a gentle nod. "I'll just tell him I used it to try to impress a pretty lady." He smiled fully as Emma felt herself blush. "I do hope I was successful."

Emma felt slightly breathless and a tad goofy as she returned the smile. "Y… Yeah. Yeah you did."

"Good." He winked at her.

She smiled at him.

The sun had begun to set behind Killian's back and it started to hit Emma's head, making her hair shine an assortment of golds, silvers and yellows, She squinted and leaned back slightly and the sunbeam then caught the side of her face, and it glowed.

Killian's breath caught in his chest, his heart nearly seizing at the beauty that sat before him.

And his hand began to tickle in a way that it hadn't tickled for a long, long time.

"Bloody hell…" He whispered and stood like he had been touched with a cattle prod. "Stay still, love, don't… move… a muscle."

He ran off the boat and reached into Smee's pickup truck, where he had the art supplies he had bought earlier. He then headed back up into the ship and slipped back down beside Emma. "Fine, Swan. Stay still…" he grinned, sudden, unbridled inspiration flowing from his eyes, into his brain and down his hand like some sort of magical power surge. He opened the sketch pad and instantly took one of the graphite sticks he had bought for Henry.

"Someone's inspired!" she grinned.

He nodded with a smile, but didn't reply verbally as his hand went all over the spread of the sheet, his eyes scanning her face, wishing the sun wouldn't move so damn fast.

She remained silent from that point on, the only sounds being the paddling impact of the small ripples beneath them, the distant seagulls, the buoy bell at the bay… and the friction of the graphite, his hand rubbing and shadowing as he committed to paper what his eyes could not commit to mind for too long.

He was finished within ten minutes, and he collapsed back with a smile, leaning against the mast and panting, almost as if he had experienced some sort of orgasmic surge. "I did it…" he smiled. "I bloody did it…"

"Can I move now?" Emma giggled.

"Yes, love. Please do."

He looked to her as if he were about to burst into tears of joy, and she wondered if this is what he may have looked like the day Megan was born.

Emma smiled and moved over to him. "May I?"

He looked into her eyes and nodded. "Aye…" He spun the pad around and showed her the drawing.

Emma's jaw fell. He had caught her, the light in her face and hair, the grin and the angle… the dimple on her chin, the sad but determined look in her eyes… it was all there.

"Killian…" she whispered. "This is… beautiful." She looked at him. "You… this…"

"I've not drawn a single bloody thing in ages, Emma." He shook his head. "I couldn't. But now, I… I…"

"You just got your soul back." She said, her eyes fixed on his.

"Aye…. I did." He swallowed, licking his lips as he stared into her eyes, her face now only no more than two feet away from him.

The tension was palpable.

He swallowed. "I'm… ready to tell you… everything."

Emma was almost unable to breathe; she nodded and grinned, trying hard to appear cool, albeit unsuccessfully. "Ok…"

"Thursday night."

She smiled. "Are you asking me out on a date, Jones?"

"Well, I was thinking about that dinner we agreed on, at your place." He said, his eyes shining. "But perhaps we could… catch a film afterwards? They're playing 'Casablanca' down at the town hall; small classing cinema night." He grinned. "Liam can watch my daughter."

Emma was beaming from ear to ear. "At what time?"

He swallowed. "Eight?"

"Do I do the cooking this time?"

"Not a chance. Just procure the ice cream."

Emma sighed. "Deal."

When later that night, Killian spoke to Liam about his plan and what had happened, the older Jones nearly cried. "Killian… that is absolutely wonderful!" He suddenly hugged his younger brother. "I can't begin to tell you how happy and relieved I am…" he huffed. "You will tell her now?"

"Aye." He swallowed. "Liam… I don't know what comes over me when she's around me… I had sworn in Milah's memory never to touch a pencil again. I did that commission in Boston, but… I never felt it. But today…" He smiled. "It was like I was nineteen again and just…. I felt alive today, brother, for the first time since they died. I felt magic! I felt…" he ran a hand through his hair and huffed, while Liam sat with a knowing smirk on his face. "I felt like I could be myself again, like I can be anything I bloody well want to be, do everything!" He looked into his brother's eyes. "I feel as if my very soul has returned into my body and it wants to create beautiful things again."

Liam nodded, his chin resting between his index and his thumb. "Looks to me like you found a muse…"

"No…" Killian grinned and looked down at his drawing of her. "She found me."

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Emma Swan felt empowered in ways she hadn't felt in a long, long time.

She had actually found it in her to finally not give a damn; that afternoon with Killian had shown her that she was worth something to someone… and that had given her the right direction to realize she was also worth something to herself.

No need to continue putting up with that slob, Tony Dinapoli.

The large, sweaty Italian sneered at Emma, a look of utter disbelief reflected on his face.

"Resignation… that's your decision regarding my proposal…." He snarled, his fist shaking under the table. "How many unschooled girls such as yourself would kill to have your position and…"

"Oh yeah, I'm sure that being the whore of a fat and sweaty Italian restaurant owner is the dream job of EVERY young girl in this town, for sure." Emma nodded. "Besides, I'm saving you the trouble of sacking me and handing me my legal sum. Here's my letter…" She smiled and placed a sheet of paper before him on the desk. "I'll just clear up my stuff…"

"SWAN!" He stood, shouting. "If you dare take one more step I may have to resort to doing something I didn't want to do…"

"What will you do, beat me into obedience?" he huffed with a cheeky, daring grin, her mind focused only on the memory of a pair of cerulean eyes. "I'm done with you, Tony. You've not only bullied me into staying here and working for you for practically peanuts long enough; do you know how much jail time nasty little perverts like yourself get for that, pal? At the very least, you'd lose your business. So if you know what's good for you, you'll just let me go."

Tony Dinapoli's facial flushing could have been gauged by a volcanologist; he stampeded in front of Emma and closed the door in front of her with one hand, staring sternly into her face.

Emma rolled her eyes. "Really? You WILL try to beat me into staying?"

"I don't have to, Emma." He swallowed. "I didn't want to use the ace in my sleeve, but you leave me no choice."

"Ace? What ace?" She sneered.

Tony swallowed. "I've been keeping an eye on you, Emma Swan. That was my original job. I only opened this restaurant in this sordid little town to see your every move…"

Emma laughed aloud. "Oh, so you are also a STALKER! Wow! That's quite a resume there, Tony! You might want to shut up now, before you dig yourself deeper into the massive hole I could legally use against you, should you not get the fuck out of my way now."

Tony laughed. "No, I'm not a stalker, Miss Swan." He grinned. "I work for somebody who is very deeply interested in your every move. Does the name Nicolo Antonelli ring a bell?" While Emma paled and her confident smile turned into a fearful pout, Tony continued. "Yeah, that's right. Apparently, your former boyfriend failed to deliver and is…. Well on the run, somewhere. Mr. Antonelli told me to keep a very close eye on you, just in case he needs to give Mr. Cassidy a gentle shove. After all…" He shrugged with a winning grin. "It is his son."

Whatever winning card Emma thought she had, it was worthless. Apparently, they did not arrive in Storybrooke alone.

"Don't… hurt my boy." She whispered.

Tony sighed and walked away from Emma, back to his desk. "You know, I will throw favor for the highest bidder, principessa. But the price of my silence can't be paid in gold when it comes to a beautiful woman. You know my wages." He slumped down on his seat, and licked his lips as he resumed counting his week's earnings. "I am not an unreasonable guy, Emma; I've wanted to have you since the day I first laid eyes on you in Boston. But I am willing to remain silent and not ever tell Mr. Antonelli that you're hiding here with your son for… oh, what can it be, one full night?" He raised his eyes to her. "It's a small price to pay."

"I'll leave." Emma bit back.

"And I will just follow." He laughed. "You are not a difficult woman to track. Although, I wouldn't worry so much about your own skin, but…." He clucked his tongue. "That boy of yours…. I'm sure you wouldn't want him to go missing one day on his way home from school, would you? Because trust me, Emma, the people I work for?" He winked at her. "They know how to get the job done. No mess."

"You…. Disgusting son of a bitch." Emma hissed and shook her head.

"Maybe… but I think you'll reconsider my offer now, disgusting or not. How you feel about it is not my concern." He stood up again and walked to her. As he put his arms around her waist, Emma shuddered and closed her eyes, swallowing the bitter taste of bile. "Actually, I do rather like it when they weep and cry and say how much they hate me… Especially when I finally get to fuck them. Those extra tears are worth the moment. Quite a turn on, see?"

Emma was breathing hard as Tony pressed his lips against her neck. "I see… you enjoy the humiliation of others. That's pretty pathetic, not being able to get it up unless you feel you're overpowering someone. I'm guessing no one has ever gotten willingly fucked by you at all."

"Who needs willingness?" He licked his lips and led his tongue to her ear. Emma sneered in disgust just as he shoved her away. He looked at her standing there before him. "Oh you do look hot when you're mad…" He laughed. "Don't say I didn't ask nicely first. Be at my place, Saturday night after your shift. Whatever you have to say to your bambino? Not my problem. Oh and…" He smirked. "No condoms. I like raw meat. And you look like fine veil."

Emma felt she'd vomit any second. She just turned and stormed out as Tony ripped up her letter of resignation. "And lock the front door on the way out!"

Emma hoped Killian wouldn't show up unexpectedly at the docks this night. She indeed threw up into the water and then simply remained crouched by the edge of the pier, sobbing and wondering why the hell life never seemed to cut her some slack.

She went home soon after and was glad to find Henry was already asleep. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you, Henry; not a damn thing, she thought as she kissed his head and pulled the quilt over his shoulder.

Emma closed her son's door as she left his room, holding her sobs with the hand over her lips. She went into her room, turned out the lights and fell into her bed, where she cried herself to sleep.

Her son had finally forgiven her; he was happy again. And Killian…

Killian.

And now they'd have to flee once more. Why did life have to suck so badly for her?

Too bad Henry had finished the vodka.