A/N: I'm sorry this took so long. Some parts of this chapter just didn't want to be written and wouldn't come out for me, but my muse is persistent and I'm doing better now. SO I hope you are still reading and enjoying this story. I will update again soon.

She wasn't sure if she was supposed to be happy about it or upset that he distinctly disregarded her request to ignore her birthday. But when she woke up that morning to a present by her door and a covered breakfast with a note that said, "Just wishing you the happiest of Thursdays," she couldn't help but smile at his persistence and thoughtfulness. There were no cakes or candles. There were no cards or funny hats. Even the bag and tissue wrappings of her present were rather nondescript.

Emma: I think I have a stalker.

Killian: Do you require protection? I would think you are better at such things, but I don't mind trying.

Emma: I was hoping you could help identify him. You were by my apartment this morning to drop off breakfast and a present?

Killian: I only saw a dashing rapscallion of a man who was trying to brighten your day, love.

Emma: Interesting. I didn't know I had a mirror in the hallway. You are the only dashing rapscallion I know.

Killian: I'm glad this is over text. I might be blushing here.

Emma: Don't tell me I have found the secret to making Killian Jones blush. That might be the best present of all.

Killian: Use it wisely. If I promise no cakes or candles to burn out, could I perhaps buy you dinner?

Emma: I'll have to check with that stalker, but I think I'm free.

Emma giggled aloud, surprising even herself in the empty apartment at her giddiness. With a reluctant promise to save the present to open in front of him later, she ended the conversation to go take her shower and ignore his response that she was a tease for telling him such a thing.

Birthdays weren't that special for her, but she did kind of like the way that Killian wanted to celebrate hers. Growing up, they were reminders that she was essentially alone and clearly on a time limit for the support she would get. Each birthday meant less of a chance of being chosen and more of a reality that her childhood was never going to be one of carefree moments and possibilities.

She hugged her arms around herself as she waited on the water to warm. Ruby and Mary Margaret had found out about her birthday a few years before. They had not taken no for an answer, dragging her out and making her forget that she was another year older. They did not ask questions of her about her parents like some people did. They just accepted her. And as much as she had thought it impossible, Killian seemed to do that too.

She made her way through her usual morning routine, taking time to eat from the plate he had brought by, and even managed to grab a banana from his breakfast present and some coffee for later on her way out the door to work. It seemed that ignoring her wishes regarding her birthday was the norm, as even her desk was decorated with balloons, banners, and confetti by Robin and David, bear claws and other sweets were provided by Graham, and John managed to change her phone to ring Happy Birthday every time she received a call.

"I'm plotting all your deaths," she muttered between bites of breakfast pastry that was way too much on her full stomach. "I said no birthday stuff." Her eyes scanned the cards on her desk, including some from frequent visitors to the station's two jail cells. Mary Margaret had chosen to have flowers delivered and Ruby provided a gift basket of some of her grandmother's best recipes to sample.

"I thought we could have a department lunch in honor of your day," David said after Robin and John sang through their own rendition of a birthday greeting. Team bonding and all that."

She furrowed her brows at him, licking a bit of icing off her lips. "Last time you said that you wanted us to start a bowling league. Robin had to remind you that we were neither overweight nor middle aged."

David's laugh was louder than necessary as he perched on the edge of the desk to the side of hers, his hands resting just over his hips and leather belt. "I could call it a mandatory meeting if that would make you feel any better, but we're still celebrating."

"If you have the wait staff come out and sing some cheesy version of happy birthday, I'm going to kill each of you in some long and painful process," she warned as David dodged his way to the glass enclosed office that was his with his exasperated way of saying her name that reminded her of high school. When she had lived with Ruth and David, she would tell the two of them that she wasn't going to school because she had no way to complete the family genealogy project or that the summer program was not possible for her because she should be working to earn money for after graduation. He would say her name in that same exasperated tone as his mother made things work out for the young blonde teenager.

Graham hung back as Robin and John both argued over a radio call about one of Robin's childhood friends having broken into the library again. It seemed a normal occurrence for the man who claimed it to be the best place to sleep off a hangover. The town's librarian no longer panicked over seeing his lanky form sprawled out, but only called the department for assistance moving him before any of the patrons found him.

"So much for a quiet birthday," Graham said, his own form lurking by the doorway while the others had insisted on embarrassing Emma.

"I kind of expected as much," Emma retorted flippantly. "Birthdays are a big deal to David. He won't let one just pass by even if you do ask him for that respect."

Graham's beard looked a bit thicker that morning and his hand scratched at it as if to ensure that it was still there. "I do wish you a happy birthday," he said, dropping a folded card onto her desk. I just don't think it is the wisest thing to join the group for lunch with everything…"

Understandingly, Emma nodded her head slowly. "The newspaper seems to be eating up this whole internal competition thing for the election. I guess it is to be expected."

"I guess," he added. "I swore to David it would not interfere with my work here. He's the sheriff and I take my orders directly from him. It's the socializing that is a bit trickier."

She pinched her lips together, looking at him carefully. "Does that mean you won't be attending the fundraiser for David's campaign?" She knew he wouldn't. That would be quite awkward. She and Robin had already talked about just how thick the air was lately since the qualifying announcements were made. It would hardly be appropriate no matter what the circumstances for one candidate to attend the other's fundraising event.

"I don't think that would be a great idea," he said with a humble shrug. "I was wondering though. I am assigned to the mayor's detail for the weekend. If you are going to the party, I was hoping you might be able to…"

Emma's brows furrowed. "You want me," she said, clarifying his request, "to spend my time on my day off at a party watching and protecting the mayor who half the time can't remember my name. You must be joking."

"It's too much to ask," he answered quickly, the color rushing to his cheeks. "It's just that I thought it might be awkward. And even more so for Robin since they…"

"Is that even confirmed?" Emma asked, eyeing him carefully. Regina was not a woman who liked her business on display. She was usually quite cold and calculating when it came to her role as mayor and kept her romantic life pretty much a secret. However, there were of course rumors as to her relationships, including most recently with Robin.

"You forget," Graham said. "I've been there. I was…involved…with her myself."

Emma wrinkled her nose again. "What about John? Why can't he…"

Looking appalled, Graham settled his hands with his palms down on the desk and leaned forward over them. "John is not really trained or ready for the task. You know Regina and what she is like. She eats guys like John for breakfast. You can stand up to her."

Emma rolled her eyes. "You know just because you and now it seems that Robin are not immune to her charms doesn't mean that John would fall the same way. She's going to be busy with the party and Mr. Nolan. Mayor or not, she needs his support to keep this city running. You and I both know that the city was short on funds just a few months ago and Mr. Nolan's visit to her office resulted in an infusion of funds that has never been explained. I don't think it is a coincidence."

The money situation was never considered illegal, only a bit shady on the part of the administration and suspicious in the eyes of those who wondered where the tax dollars were going. "I guess we should be grateful for small favors," he said a bit sarcastically. "She should really get her own detail instead of that weasely lad if she is that worried."

It was unspoken, especially after Emma had confronted him on it, but Graham had also had a bit of a relationship with Regina. He had originally started his career being security for her. She had recommended him for his current position, something that he had admitted during a marathon drinking session had bothered him. Like Emma, he tried hard to prove his own worth and abilities on a daily basis.

"I doubt that will happen with you and Robin always willing – that is until now." She sighed. "I really don't want security detail this weekend. It's bad enough that my girls' day plans have to be cut short by this stupid event, but now you want me to work at it?" Her mouth drew in as if eating a sour lemon. "I have to deal with Mr. Nolan and whichever wife or wannabe at the moment. I can't deal with Regina Mills too."

"I understand," he said, looking reluctantly at David's office. "Think he'll mind my attending?"

***AAA***

She couldn't help but grin as he spread the supper selections on her folding table, stealing a kiss or two as he did so. "You said you did not want that big of a deal or a fancy meal so I compromised."

"Grilled cheese? Tomato soup? Really?" It was a meal she would have picked out for an evening in front of Netflix and guzzling a bottle of wine. It wasn't date food by any stretch of the imagination. If he pulled out hot dogs or potato chips, she was going die of laughter.

"Don't forget the onion rings," he chided easily, dumping the containers onto her mismatched plates and attempting to make the comfort food look even fancier. It wasn't much of an effort, but it was appreciated and noted as Emma swiped one of the battered rings.

"Not planning on any kisses?" she said, scrunching her face as though she disliked the idea. "I mean onions and all?"

He chuckled, placing each palm on her hips and pulling her into him. She was still holding have of the onion ring she had swiped, providing him the opportunity to nibble off a piece of it. "I should think we will both be sporting the onion breath so neither of us will be offended by the other." Her eyebrows raised incredulously at his comment. "Or you could have them and I will forgo them and ignore your onion breath."

She snorted her reply before he brushed his lips against hers, his still turned up in a saucy grin. "I think we'll be okay if we both eat them," she said.

True to his word, he didn't mention her birthday at all, though she was not as upset about it as she had been in previous years. The guys at work had been insistent that she celebrate and made lunch a fun outing for them. So curling up on her couch with Killian and her favorite comfort foods was not sounding horrific. In fact, she surprised herself with how comfortable it all was.

The television hummed along one of her favorite childhood movies as the remnants of dinner surrounded them. Her legs were thrown over his as his arm draped over them and his fingers traced out patterns on the denim covered appendages. They were both laying their heads on a shared cushion and laughing over funny bits of the movie and shared memories.

She watched as he turned his head slightly to catch a moment of action on screen, noting his perpetually tousled hair that was one of her favorite features. He always seemed to run his hands through it in a nervous tic along with the way he scratched behind his ear. Fingers at the nape of his neck, she smoothed and ruffled the dark hair in an ongoing pattern. While he said nothing of it, he tilted his head more in her direction, giving her a silent cue as to his pleasure.

"Did you have a bad day?" she asked, studying the circles under his eyes and the clue of his hair having been a victim of his hand more than normal. "I mean did anything…"

"Just a tough potential sale that took up the better part of two days only for the man to say a decision has been postponed for a few months." He grinned. "But that all seems unimportant right now."

She squinted at him, keeping her hand at that spot on his neck and using her other to cover over his on her thigh. "You can tell me when you are," she said with a shrug that negated a bit of the awkwardness she felt. "You're always trying to get me to open up to you, but you know that you can talk to me too…"

His eyes closed momentarily and his head lolled over to her arm on the back of the couch. "I'll keep that in mind," he said. Those blue eyes opened slowly and surely, looking at her with careful appraisal. "Did you peek at your present since you wouldn't open it without me?"

"I don't need presents," she said in mild protest, though the package had been near her all day and driving her a bit mad with want of it.

"Then you won't be disappointed if I failed to capture exactly what you want," he said, his eyebrow arched as she lazily reached for the side table behind her and tugged the gift bag toward her, dropping it in her own lap. "You are difficult to buy for, love."

"More so when I tell you not to," she muttered. With that one hand still at the nape of his neck, she removed the tissue paper one piece at a time. His nearly silent grumbles that she was taking too bloody long made her laugh and for a moment wonder if he would make the same complaints on Christmas morning. The thought that she had just naturally gone there in her mind did not escape her attention. However, she was hopeful that she masked over what was probably an expression of panic that was boiling under the surface.

From the expectant look on his face, one would have assumed that he was the one opening the present. His eyes stayed locked on hers and his lips trembled a bit as she finally unearthed it.

Pulling out a small teddy bear, she seemed slightly surprised at perhaps the simplicity of the gesture. Her mouth was already forming a thank you for the white and furry present that might have been more appropriate for someone younger. However, his hand closed over it and his fingers touched the red ribbon around the bear's neck and that's when she saw the shining item circling it.

"Is that?" she asked, her fingers splaying over the fur to show a simple silver chain and an opal and diamond charm hanging from it.

"Your birthstone," he said, confirming. "I thought I should get you something associated with the day. "I knew you weren't too big on ornate, but I hoped this would be appropriate?" His voice sounded slightly hesitant as she ran another finger over the stones.

"It's beautiful," she said, breathing out the words. "It's been a long time since...Thank you." She almost brought up the last person who had given her a necklace. It had been a keychain originally, a cheap trinket that had been stolen rather than purchased. And yet it had remained a possession that she most associated with that time. That and her car.

Working together, they freed it from around the bear's neck and he tugged her forward. "May I?" She nodded slowly, pulling her hair aside and up with her hands as he fastened it around her neck, turning the charm in his hand and letting it settle there as he looked at her eyes. "Happy birthday."

***AAA***

It wasn't the chime of her phone bleating out an alert about a text message that woke Emma, her naked form next to his in a loose and comfortable embrace on her bed. She was already awake and staring up at the ceiling with unblinking eyes. She was trying to replace the nervousness in her, that natural state of her being that said something bad would happen because she was too happy, with contentedness. She was content, she thought. She was actually happy.

The phone sounded again and Emma reached for it clumsily, not wanting her screening to inadvertently waken Killian. He was sleeping soundly, his bottom lip pouting in its natural state. Shielding the light of the phone's screen with her hand, she read the messages from David and frowned at his insistence. He should have been asleep, not reading newspapers that were better for listing yard sales than actual journalism. But the curiosity got to her and she tapped the link. Shit!

She could hear the soft breathing that seemed to beguile his usual intensity, the darkened room giving her only a glimpse of his profile. Sliding out from under his arm and replacing her own body with a pillow, she crept toward the kitchen with a shirt she found on the floor covering her and pondered her possibilities. Everyone had done such a great job of erasing the fact that it had been her birthday that she had hardly found the time to dwell on things like she usually did.

Next to where he was sleeping there was a box of those memories, details of the aspects of her life that had helped form her into the person she was now. Just under a layer of scarves and assorted items in the drawer, it held just a few items that she had managed to hang onto in her life. It was just a cigar box, a cardboard vessel for things that cost little but were valuable to her. In past years she had been known to sit with that box on her birthday and a bottle of usually cheap wine and pretend that she wasn't replaying those moments.

She knew that in her state of nostalgia that she wouldn't get back to sleep and considered that a blessing in some ways. Sleep and dreams seemed to make the ache within her memories even stronger. While the ticking time clock of foster care had been a center point of her birthdays, even worse was the fact that it was the day her parents had chosen to abandon her. She had given up such notions that they might wonder where she was or ponder her well-being. Did they even remember her?

She wasn't bitter about it, understanding a bit more now after her own experiences. Sighing, she told herself not to think about it. She didn't want to remember the rest. So she bent her head over the phone in her hand and read the article that David hand linked for her.

Killian half staggered into the living area of Emma's apartment, his eyes searching the space for the blonde woman who should have been in bed beside him at that moment. She had Friday off so there were no pressing engagements that should have had her stirring before the sun even rose in the sky. He saw her there at the kitchen table, her finger scrolling through a page on her phone.

"Is something the matter, love?" he asked, rubbing over his face in an effort to clear his vision and thoughts. "Did you get a call?" He couldn't recall hearing the phone ring, but he hadn't realized she had left the bed either so he wasn't sure about his recall abilities at the moment. His pants hung low on his hips.

"Sort of," she said distractedly. A glass of water was next to her, which seemed odd given the morning hour, but he did not mention it. "Sorry. I was having trouble sleeping and I didn't want to wake you. So I thought I'd come in here, but then I realized the television might…anyway, I was reading the newspaper online and a story upset me." She was rambling and making little sense, but he listened and nodded when she looked at him.

"You didn't know there were…"

"I knew about the rumors," she said, frowning back at her phone. "Doing what we do, people aren't always a fan." She bit down on the corner of her mouth. "You write a ticket for speeding and that person is sure you are trying to meet a quota. Nobody likes to admit they did the wrong thing or get caught, but it's the nature of the beast. It's not always a quota or a conspiracy." She seemed a bit frantic as her lips moved silently, reading the text of the article again.

"Emma, what does the article say?"

"Emma," Killian said with a little trepidation, "I'm sure this story is a blow to David's campaign, but surely you can't think it would destroy him. He's been a great sheriff and has the support of the community. I think he can weather this storm. Nobody would believe he stole anything, let alone that amount of money."

She pinched the bridge of her nose with her finger and thumb. "You don't understand. David will be fine, but I might not be."

"What do you mean? Why would anyone think that you…"

Drawing in a ragged breath, she looked skyward and then back down at the table, studying the cracked surface of the faux leather material. "I haven't always lived in Storybrooke," she said, her voice sounding small. Only the hum of the refrigerator seemed to interrupt the silence. "I went to school here for a few years, lived with David and his mother, and all that." She paused, still not looking up at him.

"I recall you saying that Mrs. Nolan was quite good to you during that time," he said gently, prodding her to say more.

"Ruth was wonderful," the blonde mused. "She was so different that Mr. Nolan, warm, friendly, so caring. I wasn't easy for anyone to love, but she did. She treated me like her own child, but I wasn't ready for that. I ran away from her, from David, and from Storybrooke." Her voice broke as she pictured the older woman's face when she had seen her again, the pain etched there and the worry evident. "I didn't want to be a charity case and that was what people were saying at school. Even grown people in town were commenting. I hated it. So I left."

Killian saw her hand draw away as he reached for it, allowing her to pull into herself without protest from him. "Emma, that must have been hard for you. People can be cruel and thoughtless."

Her lower lip trembled and her eyes rested on the phone's now dark screen. "I didn't leave alone," she said softly. "I left with a guy from here named Neal. He's the son of Mr. Gold." She let the words tumble out. "He was a little like me. He hated it here. People judged him because of who his father was and thought he must be just like him."

Killian nodded, his hands gripping the table edge as though he could sense what was coming.

"He wasn't exactly a bad person," she said, her hand fluttering away the words she wanted to say. "We were both lost and scared. We acted tough, but we weren't, not really. You see when you live like that it is all about opportunities. It's all about surviving. I stole things. It wasn't for a thrill or to try to hurt people. I stole because I was hungry or because I needed it to live."

His face fell, imagining a younger Emma in such a situation. "Nobody would blame you for that," he said. "You stole food and necessities. You didn't hold a place up at gunpoint."

Smiling weakly, she placed the heels of her hands on her thighs. "Neal found a job for a while. We…it doesn't matter. He took some watches. They were going to be our way of getting out of the situation and having a good life. We made plans…" She had always considered herself street smart and strong, but she knew that she had been naïve too. She'd wanted the fairy tale. She'd wanted to live happily ever after, but it didn't happen. "The owner took out a warrant and things got a bit ugly."

She shook her head, thoughts churning as she remembered the hope turned to fear and the cold metal of the handcuffs as she was taken away. "Emma, you don't have to…"

"He left. I was left to face it. I spent some time behind bars," she said so matter of fact that she could have been telling him about the weather. "I came back to Storybrooke after and apologized to Ruth and David. Ruth…she was different, but she helped me finish my GED and then got me into a 2-year college program. David hired me and now…"

"Now you're worried," he surmised. She was waiting on that other shoe to drop. It would. It always did.

She tried to catch her breath, blinking away tears that threatened to fall. "Killian, the reporter is digging. He's looking for a story. He could find out about my past, my record. It doesn't matter that I didn't do this. He could…" She drew back in her chair. "There are so many things people don't know. They wouldn't understand. They would…They would hate me. I can't let this happen. Not again."

He wanted to hold her, to assure her that everything would be alright, but her body seemed closed to him. Arms folded and twisted away from him. "Emma, I can't imagine anyone hating you. And from what you said, I quite admire you more. You've been so strong and tough. I can't imagine anyone else could have turned their life for the better like you have, love. You are simply brilliant. Whatever happens with this investigation and this silly reporter is just another hurdle for you."

"There's more," she said, her eyes watery and sad as she watched him lean toward her. "I was pregnant when I went to jail." The words still hurt to say though she was growing numb to them. "I gave birth to a baby boy."

"Oh Emma," he said, no longer able to resist the urge to at least touch her arm or show his concern.

"He was adopted," she said a sad laugh sounding out of place. "I was given up and abandoned by my parents and here I did the same thing."

"You gave him a chance at a better life. You were young, Emma. You were alone and scared…"

She held up her hand. "I know all that. And on paper it makes sense, but he…he was my son and I made that decision. I never even looked at him. I never held him. I don't even talk about him."

"You don't have to," he said, drawing in his own breath. "I can't pretend to know what you are going through, but I do know you are smart, kind, beautiful, and have a good heart. You gave that baby boy a chance when you could have gone another way. You gave yourself a second chance. You haven't squandered it. And all of us in your life are lucky to know you." His larger hand covered hers, squeezing firmly and digits entwining.

"You aren't running?" she asked, disbelief evident. "I can't imagine this is what you expected to hear this morning. I'm sure there are plenty of women who are easier to deal with and not so filled with drama."

His hand squeezed harder. "You underestimate me, darling," he said, smiling comfortingly. Her guard seemed lowered and he pulled his chair closer to hers. "I quite fancy you more than any other lass I know. I should not want to run unless you chase me." She closed the rest of the distance, leaning into him and letting his arms pull her into this embrace. "I've got you, love." That must have been what she needed to hear, he thought, as he felt deep, racking sobs overtake her. He held her, let her cry the cleansing tears she needed so desperately. He didn't talk, simply rocked her as she let go. When the worst was over she pulled away from him, searching for a tissue from the other side of the table. "Better?" he asked as she turned back around to face him.

"I don't know why," she said with a perplexed expression. "I don't know why I seem to just admit things to you. I can't help it. I feel like you….understand." She dabbed at her eyes with the tissue.

"I'm trying," he admitted, his voice soft and almost just a breath. He watched the pain settle in her eyes, hated himself for not being able to stop it even though he knew it was impossible to avoid. Her soft lips trembled, her teary eyes searched his, her body shivering under his hand. He couldn't stop himself – didn't want to, really. He leaned toward her, his gaze still locked with hers, bent his head down slowly, as always giving her the opportunity to pull away. She didn't. The moment his lips tasted her mouth again, he knew he was lost.

***AAA***

While Mr. Nolan was in his element on the yacht that Killian and Eric had procured for the fundraising event, David looked less comfortable as he tried to look humble and grateful for people's support. Mary Margaret was at his side, her sweet expression unfazed by the insensitive comments from people who were handing over checks for the Nolan campaign.

"It's a party not a firing squad," Ruby commented, leaning toward Emma with her hand wrapped around a champagne flute. The weekend getaway for the girls had been reduced to a spa day and preparation for the fundraiser.

"Same difference," Emma said with mocking shudder. "I would never want this kind of attention."

Killian stood at Emma's left with his hand on her lower back, the pads of fingers touching the skin where her red dress dipped provocatively. She had not been too sure about the dress, but his reaction upon seeing her told her that she was right to choose it. The breeze blowing off the water made it a bit too cold for the thin material, but she was happily content with keeping warm with Killian.

Ruby exchanged a few more words with the two of them before saying she should be scuttling off to find her date for the evening, some writer who seemed to have a penchant for strong coffee at Granny's. The woman had left him alone long enough, she told them with a laugh. "I don't want him to get a wandering eye. After all, I spent a boat load on this dress and I want to see if I look as good as my mirror seemed to indicate." She twirled in a circle with her arms up. Two men stopped in their tracks to stare at her as she giggled. "Yep, it's a keeper."

Killian looked amused as the dark haired woman swooped in and kissed Emma's cheek. "Later!" she said with a laugh and wave.

"I like your friends," Killian said as the tornado that was Ruby left their ear shot. "She's quite the character."

"I like her too," Emma agreed, nodding.

"This wasn't what I imagined when I said I wanted to take you sailing," Killian teased as they found them themselves alone for a moment. "I hope you're still going to let me."

Raising the crystal flute to her lips, Emma nodded. She still had a hard time in her mind, reconciling that she was actually involved with someone who thought that she mattered. Typically she would have come to one of these events alone, drinking a little with Ruby and shooting sympathetic looks to Mary Margaret before making an early exit with an excuse about a headache or an early morning. So to be there with a date was an unfamiliar sensation.

That did not mean it was completely comfortable. There were moments when she had to introduce him when she did not know what to call him and other moments when she wondered if he was as aware as she was at people looking and shooting her questioning glances. He seemed to take it in stride though, smiling warmly at the people who greeted them and managing to convince her to dance when the live band started up.

They weren't all strangers to Killian, who knew many of the well to do donors. He easily introduced Emma as a friend, which was self-explanatory with his arm about her and the obvious affection he showed her. He laughed with the local college's polo coach about some match that had been on one of the upper cable channels and with the owner of a tour cruise company about the possibilities for expansion. Emma could see from his demeanor that he must be quite a sales person, holding court with these people and offering tidbits of advice that they seemed eager to follow up on mixed with the conversational tone.

"You're good at that," Emma complimented when he had promised some older man a tour of their refinishing facility and the man happily scampered back to his wife with plans and an excited look about the privilege. "You must do well at your job."

He shrugged. "My brother," he said with a small smile, "taught me about getting people to do as you want. It's quite an easy skill to master once you are familiar with it and one that I enjoy employing." He pulled her to him, anchoring her hip with his hand as they walked to the buffet that had been set up along one side of the yacht.

"Is that what you use on me?" she asked as they made their way to the end of the tables. "Some ninja mind tactics to make me want to keep seeing you?"

He chuckled at her wide eyed question. "I've been meaning to ask you the same question, love. You might consider a career in sales if you have such natural skills because I seem to be unwilling and unable to refuse you." His eyes sparkled with amusement as she blushed.

"That's an example right there, isn't it?" she said, grabbing one of the plates to prepare for herself. "Turning it around on me so I get flustered and forget that I asked you to begin with."

He reached around her to grab his own, lingering near her ear briefly. "Did it work?"

The buffet was overflowing with seafood and locally harvested vegetables, which most of the attendees were piling high on their plates. It seemed a bit counter intuitive to Emma to spend so much on details like this for a fundraiser, but she supposed it was the tactic that one did not want to look like he or she was begging. The two of them found a seat at one of the smaller tables, nibbling on the delicious fare as Killian attempted to explain the nuances and features of the yacht to Emma and she enjoyed watching him in his element.

"You would like one like this?" she asked when he finished his explanation on the boat's engine and its sustainability.

"No," he answered quickly as if she had asked about purchasing a run down life raft. "I prefer a vessel for both utility and for pleasure. Something like this is purely a pleasure with very little function other than impressing a beautiful woman or clients." He huffed a bit. "I would own one smaller, sleeker, and far more beautiful when at sea." He continued to describe this as of yet unpurchased dream.

She wasn't sure what all his terminology meant or why such things were that interesting or important, but she could tell that they were to him. His passion was evident and even more so as he talked about previous experiences on such vessels. She couldn't help herself but be caught up in some of his enthusiasm for what was more than a hobby.

A pixie of a woman, blonde and bubbly with a smile that lit up the room, entered the dining area with her own entourage of admirers. Emma's eyes were drawn to her, as were most of the people in the room. That was except for Killian, who kept his eyes down cast on his plate.

The woman waved and half hugged a few of the people in her path, sparkling lusciously as she made her way to her destination. Wearing a short green cocktail dress and heels, she was still shorter than most of the other people in the room, but somehow exuded confidence as she glided effortlessly. She stopped short at Emma and Killian's table, her bow like mouth dropping in surprise. "Oh my God!" she exclaimed. "I haven't seen you in forever." One petite hand reached out to Killian and pulled him up to standing. "You haven't called or even texted in months!"

Killian gave her a curt nod of recognition. "I'm sure you kept yourself occupied."

"But of course," she said, waving that same hand in front of her to show that his absence hadn't bothered her at all. Her teeth flashed in brilliant white as she turned her head to face Emma. While Emma was at least four inches taller, the young woman seemed to tower over her. "I've seen you around. You're like a deputy or something."

Emma's mouth was dry as she bobbed her head as a sign that the woman was correct. "I am," she bit out. "Emma Swan."

"Isabella Greene," the woman said, holding out her hand to her in such a way that Emma wasn't sure if she should shake it or kiss it as she curtsied. "But everyone calls me Tink since Mrs. Gold is the one everyone thinks of when they hear the name Belle."

Killian's mouth turned downward as he stared over her should and shifted his weight uncomfortably. "Tink has been working with a local outreach organization through the church. I didn't realize you were back in town."

"Where have you been?" Emma asked, posing the question easily, she hoped anyway. The awkwardness of sitting as the other two were standing was overwhelming and caused her to rise to her feet.

"All over," she answered breezily. "I work with children who are in orphanages." Emma's stomach dropped, not so much at the connection with her own past but the idea that this woman could be so beautiful, confident, and hold a job that was philanthropic. "Providing programs to build confidence and self-esteem. It's important, you know." She let her hand flutter about the locket she wore. "You have to really give them the confidence and the belief they can fly."

Killian slid a bit closer to Emma, his hand finding hers as she listened to the enthusiastic response of the other blond woman. Tink had missed Emma's expression in talking about these children who had been left orphans by war, disease, and poverty, as well as a few mentions of some who had been abandoned. "It sounds like a wonderful job," Emma said, her voice tight and her hand grasping Killian's a bit harder than normal. "I'm sure you're wonderful at it."

"Oh it's what I'm meant to do," Tink explained. "You should come with me to one of the local homes. They would love to meet someone with such a great job as yourself. And truly you can't understand what it's like to be an orphan until you meet and talk to these kids." She reached into the lace covered bag that matched her dress and pulled out a business card.

"No, you really can't fully understand it," Emma muttered, accepting the card with a half-hearted promise to call the next week before Tink took off for another of her international trips.

"Killian used to visit with some of the boy's in the home the church runs here in Storybrooke. I know he was a great mentor to them. But you know Killian. He's always up for a charity case." She playfully tapped his shoulder, her smile fading as he jumped as though startled by her move. "I should be going. Killian, you should call me some time. I'd love to see you again. Emma? I hope I hear from you soon."

In a wave of curly blonde hair and sweet perfume, the woman was gone as Emma and Killian both muttered their goodbyes to her. Emma let her hand slip from his grip, collapsing back in her chair and staring at the half-eaten plate of food. "She seems nice," she said, knowing she had to say something to assuage the guilt ridden look on his face. His concern was evident too.

"We…we used to date," he confirmed, as if she might not have realized that connection. "About a year ago or so. Not long really. A few dates and parties."

The concern was more evident as he lowered himself into the chair beside her, his head tilted for a better view of her expression. She nodded, turning her fork through the reddish sauce on her plate that she couldn't quite remember the name of though the chef had told her twice. "I kind of gathered there was a connection. She seems nice."

"Emma, I…"

She looked up, blowing out a burst of air to brush back and errant curl that had escaped her braided style. "I don't need an explanation," she said. "I've dated before too. We don't have to disclose everything."

Bobbing his head silently, he bit at the corner of his mouth. "I realize that, love, but I realized as I was seeing your reaction to her that you are quite a bit calmer than I would be if one of your former flames was to present himself to me. It is one thing to know that it occurred and a whole other to see that person." He paused, watching the gears that were clearly turning in her head. "And I know that her comments…"

"She didn't know," Emma asserted firmly. "Not everyone needs to know that I was abandoned on the side of the road. It isn't something that I would put on a t-shirt or bring up when I first meet someone."

"Of course not," he said. "I appreciate how open you've been with me. I realize that it isn't in either of our natures to be that way." He leaned toward her. "I hope you realize that I don't take your openness for granted."

She nodded quickly, pushing the plate back. "I think I need some air," she whispered, slipping out of the chair and rushing toward the deck. Her breath came in short bursts and she did not stop to look behind her until she reached the railing. She tried to stare out at the dark water and find solace in the glassy reflection from the yacht's lights. There was something calming about it, though she wasn't feeling herself breathe any easier. The heels on the decking floor behind her was loud and evident that the mayor was in the vicinity.

"Ms. Swan," Regina said, smiling at the blonde with a bit of confusion. "I thought that Graham was on my detail tonight. It's silly really, but I suppose I can't be too careful."

"He was unable to attend," Emma reminded her, pointing her chin in John's direction. "John's going to watch out for you tonight."

The dark haired woman looked displeased, a frown pinching her features. "Remind me to talk to David about his choices in personnel. I am not impressed."

It was Emma's turn to frown as she watched John shove one of the passed appetizers into his mouth and wipe the crumbs off with his sleeve. Regina could not seriously be upset that the man wasn't using the correct fork. "I don't think you have many choices when it comes to your safety. Graham isn't going to put himself in some awkward situation and Robin was busy."

"So it was either you or John?" The mayor's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Are we that lacking in protection for this town?"

"We aren't lacking," David interrupted, passing both women a glass of champagne. He mentioned to Emma that Killian was talking to a reporter to give a comment about the party. He smiled warmly when she made her excuses to leave the two elected officials. It was clear from his earlier expression that he was wondering about her absence from Killian and what had drawn her out to stare at the water.

She found Killian staring off the railing of the on the other side of the boat, his head down and his hands gripping tightly at the metal. "There you are," she said, resting back against the railing next to him and staring at the other party goers several feet away. "Sorry about before. I just needed a moment."

He shook his head, still not looking up. "Not the cards tonight, love," he said. A silence fell for just a moment before he tightened his grip and then pushed backwards as though he had made some decision not to continue with whatever thoughts had him looking so pensive. "I was going to come look for you, but I wanted to give you a moment."

In a very unEmma like move, she reached her hand out to cup his cheek, watching as his eyes turned to her warily at first and then with a softer expression of concern. "I'm not so fragile that I'll break," she reminded him.

"What if I do?" Killian asked in a quiet voice that could barely be heard over the party.

***AAA***

How long has she been back there?" Emma asked Monday morning, her eyes scanning the print out of calls from overnight. They deputies had learned their lesson quickly after their hire date that one did not let Regina Mills know that you were watching her. Despite the fact that the town's mayor was in a closed door meeting with the sheriff behind a wall of glass, Emma and her co-workers were under strict orders to ignore the visitor to the office. That left them pretending to work and catching only a few words that were loud enough to penetrate.

"Almost two hours," Robin said quietly, his own tactic to stare at a blank computer screen with his hands hovering over the keys. "She's mad."

John scoffed from his location. "How can you tell? I've never known her to be overly friendly."

Robin's reddening cheeks told Emma that the rumors of his involvement with the beautiful brunette were probably more than rumors. "I think it has to do with the article today." He nodded his head toward a folded newspaper at the corner of his desk. It had only been received that morning, but already there were coffee rings and what appeared to be two phone numbers scribbled on the printed pages.

She slid it out the paper and glanced at the headline. Sidney, the newspaper's editor and only real reporter since mostly he just hired interns, was known for his sensationalism. This headline made her stomach drop as it essentially detailed the missing funds and a connection with the sheriff's department. "This is not good," she whispered. From the corner of her eye she could see a well-manicured finger wagging in front of David's face. His expression stoic, but his foot tapping in a fast tempo under the desk.

"Don't look," Robin hissed. "She won't be happy we're gossiping."

"We're not gossiping," she reminded him, placing the report over the newspaper and scanning through it again. There were the typical calls, nothing extraordinary. "Where's Graham?"

John scoffed again, earning a glare from the other two. "Oh come on! Graham announces he's running for sheriff against David and the same week there is a story about mismanagement of funds. Graham is probably drinking a cold one with Sidney right now in celebration. He had to have won a few points with that mess being front page. People aren't going to think David is innocent after all this."