Chapter Two

Emma Swan was just fine. She didn't need Walsh, her latest, most promising new swimmer, and she didn't need his giant sums of cash that kept her afloat most days. No, she didn't need him at all.

Maybe if she repeated it enough times, she would feel a little less angry about the whole thing. She had her rules. No messing around with the swimmers, especially the clients. No looking, as looking leads to touching. Don't get involved. She had never
considered the possibility of a client so eager to break those rules. And thus, a new rule was born for her: Don't let them try to break these rules.

Her rules hadn't helped her here. She had followed them to the letter. However, she couldn't control Walsh. He'd taken to her a little too eagerly, all too willing to get up at an absurd hour of the morning to happily meet her at the pool with a smile
and a cup of coffee. He'd memorized her order by her second day on the job.

Now she was out of a job, low on cash, and without her daily fix. But she wasn't about to let Walsh break her down now. She didn't need a repeat of Neal. She didn't think she could do that again.

Slowly, Emma pulled herself out of bed. She opted to leave her pajamas on for the third day in a row. It's not like she had anywhere to be.

She looked around her room. It was decent sized and painted a sweet light grey with a solid white stripe horizontally running through it. It was big enough to have a closet and hold her bed, but she didn't have anything of sentiment on display. She hardly
had anything of sentiment at all.

She thought about her medium sized house. It wasn't anything special, but it was Los Angeles. She'd take what she could get. She still remembered the moment she paid it off, a smile taking over her face. This place was all hers, something she'd earned.

She rolled off the bed and grabbed her phone, checking the time. She still had a little while to relax until Henry woke up. With that thought, she reached under her bed and pulled out her most recent read. An overview of the art of swimming: 'Everything
it takes to Train.' She needed some new strategies for coaching if she was going to acquire a new talent.

After about an hour of reading, she began hearing soft cries coming from the room adjacent from her and she smiled. Even if she had nothing, she always had her son.

She crept through their adjoining door and poked her head into the baby room. The soft green palette filled with jungle branches and animals met her eyes. She remembered how insistent she was that it be perfect as David and Mary Margaret had painted it.
Her eyes finally rested on the wooden crib and she smiled as she focused on the baby boy, bouncing on his toes, anxious to get to his mother. He gave her a gummy smile and stuck his hands up in the air, knowing that Emma was equally ready to scoop
him into her arms.

Emma happily slid over to Henry's crib and dug him out of his crib, causing a happy squeal to escape him. "Well, good morning, monkey. Are you ready for breakfast?" Henry made a move to put his fingers in her mouth, so she gently nibbled on them, causing
him to burst into laughter and bury his head into the crook of her shoulder.

Emma couldn't find it in herself to be bitter about Walsh when Henry was so happy. Another job would come along. Maybe she'd get the next Michael Phelps as her next client. While it was a nice thought, Emma knew how unlikely it was. However, it didn't
matter. She'd scrub toilets with her bare hands if it meant that Henry would be safe and cared for.

She walked down the cozy hallway, her bare feet cold against the wooden floor, but her heart warm as Henry attempted to form words. She whispered words back to him every now and then and his smile would brighten and he would give her a coy look before
hiding back into her shoulder, causing her to giggle. She swore her heart would burst one of these days.

Walking into the kitchen, she sat Henry down into his high chair at their small wooden table, setting some baby cereal on his tray before heading towards the shelves to find her breakfast. She rummaged through her food, debating between a healthy breakfast
and a quick one, ultimately deciding on an apple and a waffle. That should keep her going for a little while.

She placed herself in the seat across from Henry, scooting the wooden chair out far enough that she could sit down. She reached for her plate on the counter and set it down in front of herself, immediately dousing the waffle in syrup.

As she chewed, she thought back to the days where she would've already been up and practicing at this hour, swimming in the small pool she had out back, training for her Olympic glory days. She still had her silver medals hanging up in the living room.
She thought about the competition every day, thought about all the people she met, all the deals she'd signed. Sometimes she wondered what would've happened if she'd stayed in the game. She gave it all up for Henry and she would never bring herself
to regret that decision. Her boy was what made her happy. She didn't need, or, more importantly, want anyone else. She could count on Henry and he could count on her. That was the only relationship that would never, ever change. Everyone else could
leave.

Either way, she knew she couldn't have made a career out of swimming. Only a select few could ever do that. Even if she had been good enough (which she was), she was content with her life now.

With that thought in mind, she decided she could search for a job a little later. Today would be a day for her and Henry.

Once the two finished their breakfasts, Emma cleaned up and pulled Henry from his chair. "It's a beautiful day outside, Henry. What do you say, would you like to go for a swim?" Henry's face lit up once again and he tried to bang his hands together as
a happy giggle escaped his lips. Even though he wasn't old enough to talk yet, he knew a few words. He definitely remembered what swimming was.

Emma carried Henry back to his room and set him back down in his crib as she rummaged through his stuff. She finally found the blue swim trunks paired with the black floaties that she was looking for.

"You ready for the pool, Henry?" She asked while blowing up his floaties. She watched his little feet bounce as his hands gripped the wooden railing tightly and she realized once again how lucky she was to have such a happy and healthy baby.

She lifted him out of his crib, earning her a happy yelp. Her heart swelled. She slid his swim clothes on him, giving him a healthy dose of sunscreen, a swim shirt, a tiny hat, and baby sunglasses. She was determined to protect her boy the best she could.

Once Henry was dressed, she set him back in his crib and went to find her bathing suit. She slipped through the door that joined their rooms and threw her closet doors open. She flipped through a few before deciding on her favorite red bikini. She threw
her pajamas off and quickly changed, hearing Henry's impatient cries coming from the other side of her door. She sighed, thinking of Neal. She knew things would've been a little less hectic had Neal been around, but she also didn't want him around
their son. He'd made his choice very clear, but, some days, Emma wished she'd had an extra pair of hands.

After she finished dressing, Emma closed back up her closet doors and shoved all thoughts of Neal aside. She was going to have a nice day with her son and nothing was going to ruin that.

With that thought, Emma happily waltzed backinto Henry's room and pulled her monkey to her, carrying him past her bedroom and through the patio doors at the end of the hallway. She propped him on her hip as she began to dig through the pool supplies
and pulling out cold bottles of water, more sunscreen and rafts for her and Henry to lay out on.

She inspected the rafts, a colorful array of blues, pinks, and oranges. With different shapes and sizes, she opted to go with her favorite: a blue hammock-style raft. She tossed it into the perfectly square pool and headed around to the steps, watching
the calm water lightly tickle her toes. She tightened her grip on Henry as she entered the water, the cold liquid a welcome feeling in the hot sun.

Henry set his hands in the water and splashed, happily giggling the entire way to the raft. Emma slid onto the raft carefully, leaving her legs to dangle in the water as she pressed Henry to her chest and laid out on her raft.

This was the life.

After about half an hour spent lazing away on the raft. Henry flicked water Emma's way, giggling manically as he did so, waiting for her to splash him back. His little fingers tightened around her arm as she spun, slowly enough to ensure she didn't dismount
him from her lap, causing water to spray everywhere, leaving Henry soaking wet. His smile never did disappoint.

He started squirming after a few minutes, anxious to be engulfed in the water, so Emma was forced out of her nice, swaying seat and back into her old Olympic-Swimmer habits. She knew her baby would have a love of water; she hadn't known that he would
be eager to learn how to swim at only 8 months old.

She pulled her little tot through the water, making sure he didn't accidentally fall off the raft. She stopped moving when they got to the shallowest end, where the water only stood about a half foot deep. She pulled Henry up so he could be on his feet
and he immediately began to stomp back through the water, towards the deeper end.

Emma laughed and scooped him up into her arms, immediately running her fingers over his most ticklish spots. High pitched screeches filled the air as Henry twisted and turned against her, baby laughter evident under his protests.

This is the perfect day, Emma thought.

And then her phone started ringing. Emma immediately decided to ignore it. It was probably Walsh calling to ask her out for the millionth time. How many more times was she going to have to say no in order for him to take a hint? She'd made her rules so
that this wouldn't happen and it happened anyways. She was going to have to be more careful in the future.

The phone stopped ringing after a minute and Emma sighed in relief. Maybe she could get back to her quiet day with her son.

Then her home phone started ringing.

"Well, son of a bitch," she mumbled. She propped Henry on her hip and, dripping wet, walked them both into the house. She threw the door open to her room and immediately snatched the phone. Whoever was disrupting this quiet moment was going to pay.

"Walsh, if that's you, I-"

"Is this Emma Swan?" A lady asked from the other end of the line.

Emma narrowed her eyes and tightened her grip on Henry. If this was one of Neal's goons… "Depends on who's asking."

The lady gave a slight laugh and took a short pause. "I'm Lily from the Los Angeles Police Department. There was a recent… event amongst a coworker of yours that we'd like to ask you about."

Emma's thoughts clouded, leaving her with many questions. Who, what, and why immediately crossed her mind, but she knew asking them would probably do no good. She watched enough television.

"Okay, fire away I guess." She wanted this to be quick and painless.

Of course, that wasn't going to be the case. It never was. "I'm sorry, Ms. Swan, but I'm afraid you have to come in for these types of questions. Is there any way you can be here in an hour?"

Emma wanted to laugh and then cry. An hour?! She still had to feed Henry, change him, and put him down for a nap sometime soon, not to mention that she herself would not be showing up to the police station in her red bikini. "Is there any way we could
do this later?"

There was paper rustling on the other end of the line accompanied by a pen scratching paper. After a long pause, the lady finally returned. "I'll tell you what, Ms. Swan. You have a son, right? If you can get here in an hour, I will watch him for one
night. You can have that night off to do whatever you want. How's that sound?"

Emma bit her lip. She could tell why this girl was in the police business. She should've been on the negotiations side of things. On one hand, Emma knew that she didn't know the girl, but on the other hand, Emma knew this girl was a cop. Henry would be
perfectly safe with a cop, right? Emma couldn't resist taking this deal. "Give me one hour." She set Henry down on the bed, still wet, and began removing his swim clothes.

"It starts now, Ms. Swan. Not a minute late." The line went dead and Emma immediately set to work.

She stripped Henry of his clothes and dried him off, immediately placing a new, clean diaper on him. 53 minutes left.

Emma walked back into Henry's room, placing him back in his crib. "Be right back, baby boy." She slipped back into her room and began to immediately undress. She yanked a towel out of her closet and quickly began drying off. She ran a brush through her
hair several times before throwing on a white t-shirt and jeans. She knew it was warm outside, but her hand reached for her red leather jacket anyways. She didn't have time to think about practicality. 44 minutes left.

She raced back into Henry's room as he began to whine. She knew he had to be hungry. She pulled him out of his crib and proceeded down the hallway and into the kitchen. She threw open cabinets, searching for some baby food and a spoon. 43 minutes left.

She sat Henry down in his chair and popped open the lid, speeding through the long process of feeding her son. He was surprisingly cooperative, as if sensing her haste. 34 minutes left.

She left Henry in his chair as she went in search of his baby carrier. She dug through everything in his room to find it laying right next to his crib. 3 minutes wasted.

She rushed back to the kitchen, scooping Henry up and rushing out the door, making a point to lock the door behind her. Exactly 30 minutes left.

She set Henry into his baby seat and buckled him up, taking her time on this one. While a night out without him would be nice, she wasn't about to risk his safety. 25 minutes left.

She was too rushed on her drive to the police department to take in her surroundings, other than noticing the clock flashing the time at her on her dash board. She would make it with 5 minutes to spare if she kept this pace.

She raced into the police parking lot with 3 minutes to spare. She removed Henry from his baby seat and hurriedly strapped him into his baby carrier, rushing inside the second she was done.

A man (his nametag said "Tiny", which Emma internally laughed at, This guy was the opposite of Tiny) greeted her at the front door. "Ms. Swan?"

"That's me. I'm here to meet-"

"With Lily, yes, I know. If you could just follow me." Tiny began to lead them through the police station, breaking into small talk. 2 minutes.

They arrived at the conference room with exactly 1 minute to spare. Emma grinned when she realized it.

Emma walked in the door and Lily looked up at the sound of Henry's babbling. "You owe me one night free of this little guy," Emma said, grinning. Lily didn't seem to mind given the way she cooed over Henry for the next few minutes.

"Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Swan. I'm sorry to have to call you and your precious boy in on such a nice day," Lily started off, gesturing for Emma to sit down across from her. "I just have a couple questions about Liam Jones."

Emma's mind searched through the names of her fellow coaches until she finally remembered Liam. "Ah, nice guy. What'd he do?"

Lily heaved a deep sigh. "I regret to inform you that he committed suicide yesterday night."

Emma furrowed her eyebrows. What did she have to do with this? "I'm terribly sorry to hear that, but I don't know what I can do to help you. I hardly knew the guy. I only met him once or twice."

Lily twirled a pen through her fingers as she considered what to say next. "Emma, he thought you were one of the best coaches in the business. So much so that the last thing he did before he died was send you an email. He didn't even leave a note for
his own brother, but you got an email."

Emma sat in silence, shocked. Why would Liam have done that? They'd met and raced once at a fundraising event; she could hardly picture him. The only thing she truly remembered were his kind blue eyes. She didn't recall doing anything that could've been
impactful enough for him to leave his last words in her hands.

"Ms. Swan, all we need you to do is read through the letter and see if there's anything about it that doesn't line up to you. Anything out of place at all." Emma nodded and reached for the laptop in front of her, hastily logging into her email account.
She was almost, if not more, curious about the contents than the cops were.

She had to scroll a little ways through her email in order to find that name Liam Jones in her inbox. She clicked on his name and the words began to pop up on the screen.

Dear Ms. Swan,

I don't know if you remember me. You probably don't; you've met so many people in your lifetime. My name is Liam. I'm a fellow swim coach (and an old swimmer. I believe I raced you once. You undoubtedly beat me, however. Guess it wasn't much of a race). I coach my younger brother, Killian. You probably haven't heard of him yet, but I know you will.

I don't know why I'm writing to you, of all people. Actually, I do know why.

I wanted someone out in the world to know what I'm about to do. That I'm about to put a bullet in my head and leave my baby brother forever alone in this world.

But I don't want to leave him alone. He's in need of a new coach. He's in need someone to keep him on track. I hope that will be you. From what I've heard, you're an excellent coach. A lot of your clients wouldn't have been able to go as far as they did without you. I also know you're currently coaching that git Walsh right now. I guarantee you that Killian is ten times the swimmer Walsh could be. Consider my brother. He's ranked 28th in the United States right now. I know he has the potential to be ranked even higher. He could even make the Olympic team. He just needs a mentor that will push him.

I know there's nothing I could ever offer you, but I hope you decide to coach him anyways. He might come off a little prickly, but he's a good kid. He kept me on my feet for long enough. With this last act of mine, I know I'll let him down. I've tried to be a good brother, but I can't keep the act up anymore.

At the very least, please let I know that I love him. There was nothing he could do to stop this, but I want him to know that this wasn't about him. Now he has another guardian angel. I'll make sure to tell mom hi for him.

Please protect my brother.

Sincerely,

Liam Jones

Emma didn't know what to do. She hardly knew what to think. She'd met the guy once and now, here he was, dead, and she was the only person he'd left a note for. And the note wasn't an explanation, wasn't a declaration of love or guilt or panic. It was
purely a plea for his brother.

Lily cleared her throat, startling Emma, She'd forgotten the officer was even here. "Is there anything about this letter that strikes you as odd?"

Emma didn't know where to begin. Everything about it was odd. She hadn't done anything, hadn't impacted his life in any way, but here he was. He left his final words with her, for a reason she would never be given the chance to know or understand. "The
whole thing?" Emma's voice rang out, confused. "I don't know why he emailed me, of all people. An ex Olympic swimmer with a son, someone who hasn't been racing for years. We'd only met once."

Emma's head kept spinning through possibilities, almost tuning out Lily completely until she heard her say, "Ms. Swan, this occurs more often than you know. People who are planning a suicide branch out to people they hardly know because they know their
loved ones are more likely to stop them. In some cases, it's the opposite and they branch out to people who have had a huge impact on their lives, but the people hardly know it."

Emma was still unsure. Henry began squirming in his baby carrier and Emma was forced into her mother mode, grateful that her son knew when the best times to break her out of her thought were. She could focus on Henry. He was a known factor; easily predictable,
but still a huge source of joy in her life.

She began to rock Henry side to side, hoping that he was only tired from their swim time this morning. "I can take him if you need a moment, Ms. Swan," Lily offered.

Emma stood, unsure for a moment, but then she realized there was only one way out of the conference room. If Lily tried anything, she could be there in less than a second. That was all the thought she needed before she lifted Henry away from her body
and left him with Lily. She could definitely use a moment.

She stepped outside the conference room and began to look around. She thought about calling Mary Margaret, but decided to call David instead.

He picked up after two rings. "Hey, I was starting to worry about you. You haven't called in the past few days."

Ah, David. Always the protective older brother. The two weren't blood related, but they were family in all the ways that counted. David and his mother took her in when she was almost out of high school; she would never be able to find a way to repay them.
They were her dream family. They came to all her swimming competitions, supported her throughout her swimming and coaching careers, and, most importantly, were the best substitute family members for Henry. David had been her shoulder to cry on once
Neal left. She hoped that, one day, she could find a way to be there for him the way he was for her.

"It's been a crazy past few days." She caught him up on everything, losing her job, barely getting out of bed in the morning, and now this. She was interrupted a few times by some carefully chosen obscenities David decided to aim at Walsh, but she didn't
mind. It made her feel cherished.

"Okay, let me get this straight. This guy you've met only once commits suicide and leaves his final wishes with you. He doesn't give his brother any final words, only you?" Emma affirms this with a soft noise. "And he wants you to coach his brother?"

"Yeah, pretty much. I don't know what to do. What do you think?" She knew she didn't need her older brother's advice, but she craved it. If she screwed up, it put less of the blame on her.

"Honestly, Em? I think you should at least talk to the guy. He might not even know that his brother left a note for him. Plus, you aren't coaching Walsh anymore. If this guy proves to be as good as his brother claims he is, this could get you your job
back." Emma sighed, causing David to laugh. "I know that might not be what you wanted to hear now, but too bad. You asked for my advice, now you're getting it."

Emma laughed. She knew he was right. She needed a job and right now, the only offer she had was one from Killian Jones.

She changed the subject, letting her brain work out the details in the background. She inquired about how her sister-in-law was doing, how their new house was coming along, and how David's new job in the safety department was going.

After a few minutes, she hung up the phone. She was anxious to get back to Henry, praying that he wasn't unhappy from his lack of nap.

She walked into the conference room and began to ask how everything was going, only to be shushed by Lily. She barely recognized the sound of silence. Lily spun and Emma saw Henry passed out in her arms. Oh, yes, Emma thought, Lily will make an excellent babysitter.

Emma slowly pried Henry out of Lily's arms, only causing him to fuss once. "Is there anything else you need from me?" Emma whispered. Lily shook her head and slipped her a tiny sheet of paper.

"No, but here's my number in case anything comes up. Please let me know if you need anything, especially if you need me to watch Henry." Emma pursed her lips and gave the other woman a smile. Emma held a snoozing Henry in her arms and made her way out
of the police station.

The entire way home, she debated what to do. She kept thinking that if David had committed suicide, she would desperately want to know what his last thoughts were. But on the other hand, she didn't know who this kid was. And Liam wanted her to coach him.

As she arrived back at her house, she made a pact with herself to at least consider the kid. Look him up and poke around his last few races. See if his times were any good at the very least. From what she'd heard, Liam was a good guy and a very demanding
coach; she wasn't sure what to expect.

She opened the door and gently shut it behind her, dropping her keys on the mail table. She walked down the hall and placed Henry into his crib, admiring her sleeping son. She considered changing him into his pajamas, but almost instantly rejected it.
If he was comfortable enough to fall asleep, she wasn't going to risk waking him.

With that thought, she walked into her small living room, took her shoes off, a flopped herself down on the couch. The brown leather was smooth against her skin and she felt herself relax almost instantly. She figured she had earned herself a few breaths
before she started the most stressful part of her job.

After a few deep, deep breaths, Emma forced herself off the couch and to the computer stationed next to the television. She plopped down into the chair and reached for the keyboard. She typed in her username and password and logged in, cracking her knuckles
before she got started.

The keys clacked against the keyboard as she searched, pulling up race footage, rankings, and his times. They were impressive to say the least. He seemed to have a normal swimmer build – broad shoulders paired with a narrow waist – but that was about
all she could tell of his physical stature in the videos. She looked through his background, coming up with a few rough edges, but nothing too awful, just a few drunk and disorderly charges. So long as murder wasn't on his short list of crimes, she
figured she might be able to survive him.

However, Emma was a stubborn woman. She debated for another week on whether or not she should actually take Liam up on the offer. She watched Killian over and over again, but kept wondering if she would be able to handle him and his temper. She waited,
hoping for another job, any other job, to come her way. Heck, she might've taken a job at a bar before taking on Killian Jones. But, in the end, she knew she'd end up at his doorstep with his brother's last thoughts in her hand.

She lasted exactly eight days before she buckled Henry into his child seat and hopped into the car, Liam's words printed off and her GPS reading her off the directions to the Jones' household.