A/N: This just popped into my head one day and I had to write it down.

Summary: Emma is a once happily married house wife, who suspects that her husband of one year is cheating. Killian is a dapper private investigator who has always been the one who cheats, not the one who is cheated on.

They meet by chance, and sparks (and bullets) fly.

Setting: This is my kind of noir, where the government has been corrupted and taken over by thugs and gangsters. It's set in a future with modern technology, but 20's ideals, morals, and style (as an after-affect of the poor government). I hope that makes sense.

Rating: T for adult themes.

*GASP* There's smoking and alcohol! Oh no!

Yes, it's captain swan. What else would it be?

Emma Swan sashayed down the street, her plum Chanel shift dress swaying with her graceful walk.

She wasn't really the type that "dressed to impress", but her marriage was in shambles, so she might as well try to find a new husband.

It wasn't in "shambles", not exactly.

They had been happy, once. Her husband brought in a more than steady income, he was constantly creating blockbuster films, and they were madly in love.

Nearly a year after their honeymoon, he began to be more distant. Their once constant cash flow faltered. Emma had to get a side job, waiting tables at her friend Ruby's diner. And yet their bank account was still low.

She wasn't like the dumb dames August had dated before. She knew how to recognize an affair when she saw one. Extra charges on the phone bills to a foreign number, dodging questions about his "business trips". She once went to the bank to make a withdrawal, and the teller exclaimed that she was so lucky that her husband took her on so many vacations (she had never been on one with him). And finally, a telegram she stumbled upon that read "My darling August. I can't wait to see you again. My heart longs to be with you, and to see your face once more."

It was addressed to August, but the ink that said who it was was smudged. Wonderful.

She didn't want to go on such easily covered up evidence. If she did, her husband would probably make a bunch of excuses and claim that she was crazy. Thus, ensuing his divorce with her, claiming that she didn't trust him. But, if she got better evidence, from a private eye, she could pin the divorce charges on him, and she would be the one evacuating a sinking ship.

And sadly, there was only one detective in town.

She had to call the notorious Killian Jones. When she talked to him, she was charmed by his smooth accent and casual manner.
His laugh alone was enough to make her melt. But she had heard enough from her friends to know that she should steer clear of him.

When she came to Mary Margaret and her friend Ruby to tell them she was getting a private eye, there was an instant "Don't hire Jones!" From Mary and a "Hire Jones!" from Ruby.

"Why?" I asked.

"He's sooo hot. And you need someone to take your mind off August..." Ruby said in a sing-songy voice.

"He's a villain. He's killed people before, but the mafia runs the police, so nobody can apprehend him. And, he's a womanizer. They say he cheats on his wife, Mila, with his customers!" Mary Margaret said in a hushed voice, like somebody might be listening.

Emma shrugged. "I don't get it. He sounds like your average, run-of-the-mill guy to me."

"Have you seen him?" Her friends said in unison.

And that was pretty much the end of their conversation.

She pushed through the throng of shady-looking people, until she made it to "The Rabbit Hole".

Unlike other places on the block, it looked like it actually got business. It had a fizzling "open" sign and a few cobwebs here and there, but a steady stream of voices and cigarette smoke flowed out the door.

The whole room was hazy with smoke, and it smelled like spices mixed together in the wrong way.

As she walked in, it seemed like everybody was staring at her. A lot of the customary bar chatter stopped. And then it started again.

"What was that all about?" She thought aloud as she sat in a chair towards the back of the room.
"Maybe they aren't accustomed to the kind of clothes you wear, love."

The seat next to her was suddenly filled.

She could feel her eyes grow wide.

Killian Jones could only be described as "tall dark and handsome."
He had jet black hair, stunning blue eyes, and light scruff around his chin. His suit was impeccably tailored, and in a most flattering shade of gray. Very flattering. With very well-fitted pants. Those eyes. Look at those eyes!

"Hello? You didn't seem deaf on the phone."

"Uh, no. I'm not. I can hear very well. What did you mean by that?"

"Well, most of the people that come in here aren't the wives of filthy rich business tycoons." He smiled, revealing a perfect set of teeth. "On this side of town, life might be a little less extravagant than you're used to."

He didn't seem dangerous. What were Mary and Ruby talking about?

"I've noticed that." There was nothing but pantsuits and the occasional fitted trouser or jean in the crowd.

"Would you care for a drink? I'd recommend one of the tropical fruit mixes. My wife likes those." He suggested.

"Can you go to the bar and get me a MacCutcheon scotch whisky?" Emma asked, ignoring his input.

Killian looked taken aback.

"Of course. Whatever you like." He said, confused.

A few seconds later, Emma felt a hand on her shoulder.

"I knew he would try to pull something like this." She muttered.

But Killian was still at the bar.

Crap.

"Hey, sweetheart." The person touching her said.

She tried to get up, but realized that the man was holding her down.

He smelled like had never had a bath in his life.

"Bug off." Emma snapped.

"Oh, feisty. I like them like that."

He squeezed her shoulder so hard she yelped.

She was about to scream, but she was cut off by a bullet ripping through the air and embedding itself in the cheap wallpaper behind her table.

"HEY! Get off the dame or the next one goes between your eyes!"

Killian yelled from the bar.

He still had the gun aimed at the bar rat's head, breathing heavily in fury.

"Go on, shoo!" He waved the gun towards the door.

The man scampered off, taking a beer bottle with him.

"Thank you." Emma said nervously as he came back.

"I hate to see a lass being treated like that."

He said, shaking his head. He handed her her drink.

"I... I just wanted to tell you that people think you're..." She started

"A villain. I know. That I take advantage of my clients and that I'm a killing machine. I would only kill if somebody deserved it. And as for the part about my clients... I'm always a gentleman."

"Sure you are."

"It's true. My wife is my sun, moon, and all the stars. I could never betray her. Ever."

August? Are you taking notes?

"So, I called you about my husband, August Wood..."
She began.

"Wood? He works with my wife. Mila Jones. Do you know her?"
Killian asked.

"Yeah, isn't she a costume or set designer? August said he was working with her on location last week." She took a sip of her drink.

"What are you talking about? Mila is a secretary for Gold Law Firm. Last week she said she was going to a retreat and that your husband was funding it."

"She doesn't work with Wood Productions? At all?"

"No..." He lost his smile and his eyes grew dark.

He looked like he wanted to punch something.

"Maybe I got the name mixed up. That's it." He choked out.

"I think... I'm not the only one being cheated on, here."
His eyes started filling with tears.

"How could I have been so stupid? I've never seen a paycheck out of her, now that I think about it. And where is 'Gold Law Firm'? I've never even seen it. God, I'm a bloody idiot."

She hesitantly touched his hand.

"You're not. And that's exactly why we're going to catch the lunatic that cheated on you red-handed."