2001

Her shoulder was aching. The thick strap of her bag dug into her flesh heavily, pinching it uncomfortable. She knew she had packed too much.

As she waited she played with her hair, tucking and untucking it behind her ear, flipping it from her shoulder to her back and running her fingers though the strands searching for non-existent knots.

The line was taking way too long. Every second seemed to increase the rate her heart thudded in her chest: nervousness was trickling though her, beginning to saturate her body in cold reality.

She could do this. This was the right decision. She needed to go.

These words were on replay in her mind as she edged closer to the desk. Her fingers ran nervously over the nylon strap, shifting it away from the groove it was digging into her skin. She tried to stop her foot shaking - it was beginning to tap against the floor, her worn cowboy boots making a soft pit-pat sound.

"Next!"

Emma jumped: eyes flashing forward to the middle aged clerk with a bored expression who was currently raising her hand and gesturing to her to come forward.

Swallowing, she approached, pulling out her frayed rip wallet and placing it on the desk. "One ticket to Seattle please," she asked, almost in a whisper.

"Return?" the clerk barked.

"One way."

2014

"Miss? Miss?"

"Hmm?" Emma shook her head and looked up. In front of her a smiling flight attendant was holding out her hand, gesturing for her boarding card. "Oh," she blushed.

The woman smiled again - all red glossy lips and shiny hair. "54a - first aisle, window seat, right near the back. Enjoy your flight."

Nodding, Emma took the ticket stub and began to step carefully down the narrow aisle of the busy flight.

50. 51. 52. 53…

She sighed in relief when she found her seat. Reaching up she stowed her carry on in the overhead locker and slid into her seat as she loosened her coat and placed her purse on the floor. She looked out of the window at the airport that sprawled into the distance. Planes, trucks, endless grey lines of runway. A whole other little world that sparked a flicker of excitement in her belly.

This was really happening.

Biting her lip, she fumbled in the seat pocket, pulling out the airline magazine and thumbing through the pages.

She jumped when a heavy bag landed on the seat beside her.

"Sorry!" chirped a voice. Emma looked up and saw it belonged to a older woman, blonde, dressed in loose jeans and a floral blouse, "Looks like we are seat mates!"

"Um, I guess…" Emma replied as the woman stowed her back and shuffled into her seat.

"I'm Valerie," beamed the woman, holding out her hand, which Emma felt obliged to take. "Off to visit my daughter in NYC!"

"I'm Emma," she replied, slipping her hand away as Valerie fastened her belt.

"First time in New York?"

"Um, kinda. I mean, not since I was a kid."

"Aww, you'll love it. I visit twice a year. You on vacation?"

Emma bit her lip and felt her stomach leap a little.

"Actually I'm visiting someone. My boyfriend. I'm visiting my boyfriend."

2001

The bus stank.

Sweat. Stale air. Vomit?

She pulled herself further into her hoody and rested her knees on the seat back in front. It had only been an hour of travel so far and she already felt sick and desperately wanted to take a rest break. Her fellow travellers seemed engrossed in their own worlds: reading books, sleeping, eating.

Rustling in her bag, she pulled out a battered walkman, plugging in the tangled headphones and arranging them over her head. She turned it over in her hands, searching for the play button.

Then she saw it. Her stomach cramped and her heart skipped a beat.

That little note, written in black Sharpie on the side - Prop. of N. Cassidy.

And for a second it all came back. The pain. The hurt. Her arms slipped down to hug her almost flat belly: empty belly, empty arms.

She squeezed her eyes shut and brought the wristband of her shirt to her mouth. Moistening it with her tongue, she brought the material to the offending mark and began to rub. And rub and rub. Excruciatingly slowly, the stubborn ink began to rub away.

All the while she was desperately wishing that memories were so easy to erase.

2014

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Her foot wouldn't stop shaking. Her fingers were in her mouth and she was biting on her nails, silently chastising herself for the damage she was inflicting.

Oh God she wished the baggage carousel would hurry.

And then a second later she wished it wouldn't.

Her stomach was in knots and she felt the growing flush on her cheeks.

Damn, it was hot.

Then she saw a flash of red and silently thanked herself for choosing easy to find luggage in a sea of black. She stepped forward and grabbed the handle, adjusting the strap of her purse, as she began to drag the case behind her to the exit.

She felt sweat prickle at her temples as she walked. Each step seemed to take an age.

Do I look okay? What if he has changed his mind? What if he is not there…

Each leg felt like lead: heavy and weighing her down.

It had been two weeks. Only two weeks. But really, they had been two long, aching weeks. Days and nights of texts and phone calls and Skype…

Not enough.

But, enough for her to know that she was falling for him…

The grey glass automatic doors slid open as she stepped into the arrivals area.

Barriers were set up to her left and a throng of people stood behind them. She searched: trying to look past the paper limousine signs and craning necks of relatives waiting. Her eyes glanced over the crowd, she clenched her jaw and felt her brow crinkle.

She couldn't see him. He wasn't there. He wasn't-

And then he was. Smiling, pushing forward, a bouquet of pink roses in his hand. His face soft and his eyes bright.

She dropped her case and ran the few steps to where her stood.

Then he was cupping her face, staring into her eyes, a breathy, 'Emma' being spoken until their lips met and everything else melted away in a sea of hope and peace.

2001

"Last stop. Seattle."

The world was blurry when she opened her eyes. She'd fallen asleep with her face pressed against the cold glass of the window and now she had an aching head that she tried to ease by pressing her fingers against the skin.

Yawning, she blinked a few times. God, she was tired. Her eyelids felt like they were made of sandpaper and her mouth tasted stale. Her body was screaming out for sleep and a soft bed.

Gathering her belongings, she heaved her bag down the aisle and out of the bus into the cool, crisp morning air.

As she waited for her luggage, she looked up at the clear blue sky. The sun was just beginning to peek over the edges of the tall buildings that lined the street; a little pinkish glow tinged their edges.

After travelling so far - farther than she ever had before - she had wondered if she would feel differently. If the air would smell the same, if the blue of the sky would still be familiar. And it was: and at the same time it wasn't.

Because as she watched a flock of birds soar high above her Emma realised something - it didn't matter where she was really. The pain she was feeling would be there no matter her location.

And the pain of loss, and betrayal, hung heavy in her heart still.

2014

"Wow this is- Wow."

Emma was lost for words. The apartment she had just walked into was like something from an interior design magazine. All clean lines and muted colors furnished with expensive looking items that gave the modest space a sophisticated edge.

"Well, I work with art so I guess that influences my decor choices," he laughed.

Killian dropped the bags he was carrying and turned to close the door. Finally they were alone. Emma's heart began to thud loudly in her chest. Alone. How she'd wanted this moment to come but now she felt so awkward and unsure of herself, she didn't even know what to say.

"Drink?" he asked.

"Sure," she nodded, following him as he walked through another door into the kitchen. He reached into the fridge and pulled out two bottles of Heineken, twisting off both caps and handing her one.

"Cheers," he smiled, clinking both bottle necks together. They both took a sip, watching each other carefully. The beer was pleasantly cold and tickled her throat.

She ran her tongue along her lip as she rolled the cold, glass bottle between her hands. "Sooo…"

"Sooo…" he echoed. Then, catching her eye, he raised a brow and she began to laugh. "Why does this feel so awkward?" he smiled.

"Because I'm nervous," she admitted, taking a step closer to him.

"Me too."

Reaching onto her toes, she slipped a hand around his neck and pulled him into a small kiss. "I missed you," she whispered against his lips, soaking in his familiar smell as she breathed deep.

His fingers tangled in her hair as he pulled her closer. "I missed you too."

Another kiss - longer, sweeter, turning more passionate as they pressed their bodies together, each yearning for something they had both been longing for throughout their separation. Slowly, Emma pulled back, struggling to breath.

Their faces were close and she stared into his blue eyes, feeling her heart make that little leap that both scared and excited her.

He swallowed and loosened his grasp on her hair. "I guess I'll show you your room."

"My room?" she asked, a little too quickly.

She could swear he blushed a little.

"I have a spare room and I didn't want to presume-"

She caught his lips with hers again, crushing them together for a moment before slowly peeling back.

"You're sweet, you know that?"

"Is that so?" he teased, running his hand down her back.

"Yeah. And I like that. But if you think intend on spending a single minute more than necessary away from you then you are mistaken.

"Well then love," he began, taking her beer and placing them both on the kitchen countertop, "I do believe we have some lost time to make up for."

She cocked her head and gave him a questioning look. He replied with a cheeky smile, before scooping her up into his arms and carrying her out of the kitchen.

"Hmmm," she sighed, circling her fingers through his thick hair as his head lay against her chest. "That was…"

"Yeah," he replied, tilting his head and kissing her stomach. His lips tickled her stomach and she giggled softly. "Thank you."

"For what?" she asked, confused.

"For taking a chance on me. I feel like this is happening so fast and-"

"Shhh," she hushed, placing a finger on his lips. She didn't want this conversation. Not yet, anyway. It had been so long since she had been content she wanted to just enjoy this moment- however long it will last. "Let's just take this one step at a time."

Killian slid beside her on the bed and slipped an arm around her waist. "Okay," he nodded, kissing her forehead. "How do you feel about going out tonight? A friend is opening a new gallery and we could go for dinner-"

"A friend?" she asked. He wanted her to meet his friends.

"Is that a problem?" he asked, brow creased in concern.

"No," she lied, shaking her head. "I mean, um, it's just… No, ignore me. That sounds great. Fantastic in fact."

"You sure?"

She nodded, entangling her legs in his and drawing closer. "It's just-"

"What love?"

She tilted her head up to look at him, "Do they…Do your friends know how we met?"

Hell she'd never been embarrassed by her job before, but now… Well, now was different. The thought that people she had never met would be judging her and making assumptions about her character made her feel sick.

"All I've said is that during my trip to Seattle I met someone. A beautiful someone who is very special. Nothing else matters."

Emma smiled and pulled him close.

Maybe this really was it - what she had been searching for for so long: a fresh start.

"Emma, you look great. Relax!"

"You sure?" she asked, feeling incredibly self conscious in the stark white glow of the gallery.

"I promise," he whispered, handing her a glass of champagne.

"This place is really fancy," she whispered back, settling into the crook of his shoulder as they walked. All around them were well dressed men and women eating canapés and discussing the canvasses that hung around the large space.

"Not as fancy as you, love." She blushed as he kissed her cheek. He had this way of making her feel so at ease with a simple gesture. It was nice. "And you should know that most of these people have no clue what they are talking about. Which makes them perfect clients."

Emma started to laugh.

Then something flashed by her. A face - familiar. A little older…

She craned her neck, looking between the crowd.

No, it couldn't be…

And then she saw him. Standing not twenty feet away, champagne in hand, talking animatedly to a young asian girl with close cropped hair.

Same hair. Same eyes. Same smile.

"Neal…" she whispered, the glass in her hand slipping as the room began to get fuzzy and grey. A wave of sickness started to rise and a ringing sound began to hum in her ears. She felt her legs begin to buckle as slowly consciousness slipped away.

"Emma!" was the last thing she heard before the world turned black.

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