No Frozen Jewel in this chapter, but a little angst and some more Granny. Hope you're all still enjoying and having fun on this little journey.

Thanks again for your comments and suggestions/questions. I'm trying to get caught up on responding and hope to do that by Friday!

"I didn't mean to put you on the spot, love," Killian said as Emma crept out onto the deck and closed the door lightly behind her. Henry was sleeping in the chair that he had slept in the other night, his legs thrown over the arm and a remote resting on his chest in case he woke up. It was cold outside, but Killian is wearing the thickest of sweaters and he had been sure to grab her coat before he stepped outside.

"You just sort of surprised me," she said, running her hand through her long hair and attempting to hold it back in the growing strength of what had been a normal sea breeze. "Can't say I've been asked that question before."

"So that's why you didn't answer me?"

"No, I mean, well…You asked me in front of my son. I don't need Henry getting ideas and joining up with the matchmaking brigade." In the corner of his deck there was a built in bench, l-shaped and big enough for two people. She took one spot and he the other, both turning their eyes skyward at the stars shining back down on them. "I thought we decided we didn't regret it."

"Nobody's regretting anything, Swan. I'm merely asking if you enjoyed it and how you might have described it to your friend's inquiring mind." Bending his arms, he laid them out on the railing behind him, taking up a bit more than his fair share of the room on the bench.

"You said it was an enjoyable way to end our evening," she remarked, giving him a side eye before returning to the heavens above. "I don't disagree, but that's not what I told Mary Margaret." Swallowing, she let her head fall back more, his right hand so close that he could have buried his fingers in the long waves of gold. "I told her it was good and that I didn't know which of us started it."

"Good is a pretty weak word," he said after she stopped talking. "I hoped my kiss ranked above that."

"You wanted me to give her ammunition just to boost your ego?"

Moving his hand away from her, he placed it on his neck, his pinky making a scratching against the area behind his earlobe. "I wanted to know if I was alone in thinking that perhaps we are…"

"Don't Killian."

"Don't what?" His eyes showed that he was far from the innocent man he was trying to portray, his smile giving way and dimples deepening.

"Don't do this," she said, eyes closing against the words and the wind. "Killian, of course I'm attracted to you. Most women are or would be. I'm just not ready for the repercussions here. My son is in the other room and could wake up at any moment. I should walk away from all this based on my being his mother alone."

"I like your son," Killian said. "Don't use him as an excuse."

"I'm not. I'm just not sure that we need to jump into something here. I like being your friend."

"Emma, I can respect that you don't wish for there to be anything romantic between us, but this week has hardly been the picture of platonic friendship. And if I'm going to be honest, I've thought about kissing you a hundred times since Saturday. I've memorized every detail of how you tasted and felt. It wasn't enough, Emma. It wasn't close to enough. Yes, there are things we should take under advisement such as me being Henry's teacher and you being protective of him, but Emma they are insurmountable things."

"Mary Margaret already said that was nothing to worry about. She all but called me dumb for using that as an excuse." She pulled her jean clad legs up onto the wooden bench, using the coat to cover them too. "I guess she's right. There is more."

"Then what is it? Because you're going to have to tell me and not make me guess." He was teasing her, trying to make her feel more at ease, but the tenderness in her voice made her wonder.

"I don't want to hate you," she answered slowly. "And if things didn't work out…if we ended things badly, I would end up hating you. And I don't want that. I don't…"

"You're worried over us ending things when we have yet to begin anything," he said as though he expected her to bolt right then and there. "Did it occur to you that we might not? That I don't wish to ever hurt you?"

Her breathing evened out, a strategic move that she had learned over her time in a high stress industry. When she had counted to nine, she opened her eyes and found his staring into hers with honesty and concern. "Killian, I don't have the best track record with this."

"I don't think any of us truly do, love. If we did, we wouldn't be having this conversation as we'd both be married and living happily ever after or whatever the words are to end those blasted fairy tales. I suppose I was wrong. I was hopeful that you felt as I did that whatever this is between us was worth taking a chance on and seeing how good it could be. I apologize. I shouldn't have pressured you to feel anything." Standing, he stalked to the other side of the deck in about six steps, keeping his back to her.

"You didn't," she said, regretting that whatever her qualms and concerns were at that moment, he was no longer comfortable even sitting next to her. "You've done nothing wrong at all. We were fine before. You were his teacher. I was his mother. We barely even spoke and then Granny…What does she know anyway? She should stick to lasagna not my love life."

He didn't answer her, his head dropping down between his arms that were resting folded at his elbows on the railing. Considering walking over to stand next to him, she realized that she wasn't ready literally or figuratively to take those steps in that direction.

"I'm sorry," she managed to say before sliding back into the cottage and gently waking her son to go back home.

***AAA***

Liam was up before Killian the next morning, his mood lighter and his barbs filled with a bit more sting as he attempted to persuade his brother to come to the auditions that afternoon. "You were our guitarist for years," he reminded the man as he poured cereal into a bowl and then drowned it with the cold milk from the carton. "You probably can pick talent in that area better than the lot of us."

"I'm busy," Killian said, his voice somewhat muffled as he leaned his head into the refrigerator in search of something. Liam surmised that he must not have found it, as he slammed the door shut with such force that the canisters next to it rattled in protest.

"Would it make a difference if I said Emma won't be there? She's supervising the recording session for Elsa and her sister. She picked out a few she liked from their audition demos, but the final decision is up for us."

"This," Killian said, peeling one of the last bananas with a large amount of disdain, "has nothing to do with Emma."

"Right," Liam agreed with a long nod. "I know that face. I know that sulking and pouting. You and the lass had some sort of disagreement? Am I right?"

"That isn't your concern, but if you insist on worrying over the details of my life you can start with my boat. Want to tell me why I noticed lights coming from it last night?" Killian rarely had the opportunity to leave his brother speechless, so he relished the opportunity as the older of the two sat opened mouthed for almost three seconds. "I'm going into town. You've eaten all the proper breakfast foods and left us with nothing but this sugary dried stuff."

"It's fortified with vitamins," Liam called after him. "Eight of them or something?"

Killian was three blocks from the cottage and only steps from Granny's front door when he realized he had left his wallet back next to his bed. While he could blame it on his thoughts of Emma, he was not planning to use that as an excuse to the proprietress when he asked to float a tab until he came by with cash later. To his benefit, the diner was barely attracting anyone at that early hour on such a chilly morning. While the weather reports were calling for a warm up, it had yet to hit.

"I appreciate it," he said to Granny when she handed him the menu after his story of leaving his wallet behind. The woman did not offer a smile, but that was not something she normally did anyway. Gruff and no nonsense, she tended to listen sharply and speak even sharper. He halfway expected her to hand him off to one of the less than adept servers, as he wasn't going to be able to provide a tip until he returned later. However, she was the one pouring his coffee a few minutes later and pulling out the dog eared green pad to take his order.

After he had placed his request, she passed the torn sheet off to one of the cooks and returned to stand in front of him on the other side of the counter. She was plump compared to the skinny young servers that she hired, but she wasn't the one trying to fill out the tiny skirts and tops that seemed to drift higher on their midriffs at times. She was the picture of someone's grandmother with her gray hair coiled up above the nape of her neck, a floral top, thick wool skirt that stopped mid-calf and sensible shoes. An apron with the diner's logo embroidered on it was around her waist and a pair of glasses sat on her nose while another hung around her neck on a chain.

"You usually bring that brother of yours in," she said, not even pretending to have business standing there. "I take it you are wanting to be alone."

Killian lifted the cup to his lips and took a drink before addressing her. "He's getting ready for auditioning some people."

"And I imagine that Emma and Elsa are busy with their music too," the woman continued. It was uncanny the way she could stare at people, not just observing but dissecting them as well. "Must make for a quiet day for you. Or a bit lonely."

"I have managed this long."

Reaching down below the counter, she pulled out a few more of the menus and passed them over to one of the servers who was setting more tables. It was all done wordlessly and seemed an intricate and choreographed dance that had been practiced for a while. "Is that what you call it?" she asked after the woman had walked away. "Managing?"

"Is this where you tell me that my life would be better with someone in it? That I am bumbling your attempts to find my soulmate because I'm too set in my ways. Are you going to lecture me that I will die alone and it will be my own fault?" Dunking the spoon in his coffee, he spun it though there was nothing to add to the black substance. It felt good to have direction for that one moment.

"No," she said, pushing her glasses up her nose a bit, "but if you'd like to provide me with the script I'll be happy to give you a good talking to. I imagine that you know you're floundering when it comes to Emma."

He wanted to shout at the woman that he was not the one who was floundering. He had kissed her that night and despite his hesitation had wanted to do it again and again. There was no mistaking that he wanted more with her, wanted to see where they could go with this. It was her stubbornness that had left him on that deck wondering what he had done. "Can I ask why you thought…" He broke off and sipped at the coffee again, burning the tip of his tongue with the overly hot liquid.

"Why I wanted to pair the two of you together? I don't know. I do that. I see two people here at the diner and think how much happier and better their lives would be if they simply spent some time together. I didn't set out to cure the world of unhappiness with a wave of a wand or a date. I simply wanted to make sure that people weren't so caught up in themselves that they forget they aren't the only ones on this planet." Her fingers brushed off a crumb from the counter to the floor where she would undoubtedly point it out to one of the bus boys later.

"You don't date though, do you, love?" he asked, suddenly realizing that he had never seen her so much as at a store let alone out from the confines of her businesses.

"That, Killian, is a ship that sailed long ago. I had my husband and a beautiful daughter. Lost them both and took to raising Ruby. It wasn't a conscious decision, though I can't imagine being happier than I was when I was with him. He was my everything. Before you know it, you're old and gray and looking back on years that could have been more."

"I'm sorry that you lost him. It's hard to go on after that."

"That it is, but you know that people would tell you that they want us to go on. They would want us to be happy. I nod and say I know, but truthfully I kind of doubt it. My husband could be a selfish bastard sometimes. Doesn't mean I didn't love him. I just think he probably judges me every day for the decisions I've made."

"Sounds like you two were quite a lot alike."

"We were," she said with what passed as her most dazzling smile. "And yours…what was her name?"

"Milah," he said, the name sounding more like an apology than just a name. "We weren't married."

"Doesn't ease the hurt," Granny told him, turning to grab one of the coffee pots and filling his cup again. "I suppose being married gives you an excuse to miss them. It gives you a title…widow, widower. But none of that matters. You loved her dearly and you probably regret that you didn't tell her enough."

"At all," he said, looking down at the cup. "I never said those words to her. I didn't have the right."

She had the decency to not look shocked, as he explained a bit about the circumstances. "I can see how that makes you a bit afraid of love. You've seen the loss of it. Nobody wants to repeat that."

"It seems as though that is something Emma and I may have in common," he said, allowing himself to speak her name without the bitterness boiling up inside him over her not wanting to explore what they might have. "We both jump past what might become of us and settle on the worst case scenarios."

The older woman patted his wrist consolingly as she barked out an order to one of the staff just standing there. "If you've got time to lean, you've got time to clean," she instructed. "Don't let me catch you standing there yawning again if you want a paycheck."

"Do you know that I've set up half the couples in this town? I rarely make a mistake. It's a gift, same as my recipes only more rewarding. Not all of them are conventional or what you would expect. If someone comes in asking for me to find them someone, I rarely take the challenge. It's got to fit."

Killian smiled sadly, a few wisps of his hair falling over his eyes. "And you saw that there is a fit with me and Emma?"

"You don't?" she asked, waving over one of the cooks who carried his order out and placed it in front of him. Not waiting for his answer, she unfolded one of the napkins from below the counter and thrust it at him in a way a mother who knows her child is going to make a mess does. "See, everyone has something they have to do or learn in life."

"I rather think more than one, but go ahead."

"One overarching thing," the woman corrected, looking offended to have to do that. "And there are people, who can help us with that. Now maybe we don't fully understand why or how we're supposed to do these things, but the people do. They make it easier. They make it better. And so while the rest of this town thinks that I thought you and Emma were compatible because you both like onion rings and you both eat your food on the plate clockwise, the real deal is that you both have a similar soul."

"Very poetic," he said. "But on flaw in that. I see that, but Emma doesn't. She is too wrapped up in what could go wrong and how I'm going to hurt her."

"I wouldn't have suggested it if I thought you would hurt her," Granny said with a dismissive tone. "And I'll have you know that I have known Emma since she was a teenager wearing clothes too big for her and glasses that were more about hiding than medicinal purposes. She's family. I haven't tried to pair her up with anyone but you."

"I appreciate your confidence in me, Granny. I truly do, but Emma isn't interested. She's clearly coming up with excuses. I can admit to being daft at times, but I am not glutton for punishment."

Patting at his wrist again, the woman gave him a half smile before ambling off to instruct one of her staff on how to properly unpack the latest shipment of ingredients. She was explaining that the coldest items should not go next to the freezer door when she turned and looked at him with a nearly angry grimace. "I thought you were the type to fight for what you want."

It took him a moment to realize she was speaking to him. "I don't think there is much point. I'm not a man who would force her to feel something when she doesn't, even if it were possible."

"Pity," she said. "Besides my track record, there is the fact that she's worth fighting for in my opinion. I had hoped in yours too."

***AAA***

Emma leaned back against the black leather couch in the control room and listened to the playback of the song. While there were certainly tweaks to be made, she was more than happy with the results so far. Anna could learn to not come in so early on her solo verse and the bass would have to be mellowed a bit so it did not drown them out. All in all, she was happy with it.

Complimenting both women, she suggested that they rest their voices for a bit while she spoke with the engineer and producer about the next song. She was humming out the melody as she read through the new lyrics that Elsa and Liam had finished penning that morning. Again, she was duly impressed by the effort and was pleased she could see parts that were clearly her friend's idea.

"Sneak peek for a grilled cheese?" Ruby asked, waving off the engineer and holding a bag up for her friend. "You're always in the mood for those." She tossed the bag onto the coffee table where a few out of date magazines and an award statue sat as though people needed reminding of the end goal in all this.

"You're welcome to peek all you want," Emma said, gesturing at the nearly empty studio where the sisters had been working for the better part of two hours. "Not much to see at the moment." Taking in Ruby's annoyed expression made her laugh. "Oh you meant a listen. Nope, nothing is ready for the public yet."

Ruby's long legs were covered in a pair of black leggings with an oversized black sweater serving as a practically a dress. A mismatch of gold chains twisted around her neck and a large red belt added that signature color she always included. Her ankle boots stood tall with long thin heels that she navigated with ease as she plopped down next to her friend.

Emma tried to ignore the heady perfume that she wore as she leaned forward to suspiciously inspect the contents of the bag.

"What?" Ruby asked, twisting one of the chains around her finger. "It's grilled cheese. Nothing shady about that."

With one finger still tipping the bag so that she could see inside, Emma side eyed the woman next to her. "You have been overly shady this week. Am I going to hear from Killian about how this was supposed to be his? Did you leave me a note in here or something? Are his car keys in the bottom of the bag."

Nabbing one of the paper napkins, she waved it with her right hand and pointed at herself with her left. "This is me," she said as solemnly as she could muster, "waving the flag of surrender. You want to be miserable and break that man's heart. That's totally up to you."

Rolling her eyes, Emma pulled out the wax paper wrapped sandwich and began to unfold the corners. "You have never given up so easily. I don't think you're about to start now."

"You skipped movie night," Ruby said accusingly. "You know tradition and all that. Then I hear that you spent the evening with Killian." She held up a hand with fingers splayed. "I don't want to hear excuses. I get it. He's dreamier to look at than your friends. He probably was very sweet and romantic. He was nice to your kid. He said things to you in that sexy accent. I get the reasoning. It still hurts, but I get it."

"I didn't choose Killian over you."

"No, you didn't, but you still missed movie night. You will be punished." There was a distinct predatory nature to the way that Ruby could look sometimes. While she was a loyal and sweet friend, she could flatten people with a single glance. Emma had made it a point not to cross her.

"I apologize. I'll bring wine next time. I promise." Emma bit into the sandwich, which was hardly fancy. Killian had joked the other day over lunch that Granny could probably compete with the bigger restaurants if she used a higher quality of cheese than the sharp cheddar that was standard. Even a mix could prove unbeatable. But to Emma there was something comforting about the tried but true standard that went so well with tomato soup and onion rings. He had agreed with her as they both nibbled and talked of favorite movies and books.

"And chocolate," Ruby insisted. "I guess there is an ulterior motive after all."

"This isn't about the wine and chocolate?" Emma pulled the white container of soup out to settle next to her now half eaten sandwich. The onion rings were next. There was even a white cup with a frozen hot chocolate milkshake that was exclusive to Granny's. "This is delicious by the way. Thank your grandmother for me."

"You are still talking to my grandmother after she's been trying to set you up with Killian? I know we've been kind of rough on you this week." She wrinkled her nose as though she was disgusted with herself. "We all want you to be happy."

Emma did know that. She knew that Mary Margaret was the friend who worried about her and asked her to text when she got home so that she knew she was alright. Ruby was the one who made sure she and Henry always had some place to spend holidays, making them mainstays at Granny's table. When Henry had a bad case of the flu that turned to pneumonia, it had been Elsa, Ruby, and Mary Margaret who had stayed with her at the hospital. They did love and care about her, even if they annoyed her sometimes.

"And you got carried away," she finished for her friend.

Holding her index finger and thumb close together, Ruby grinned. "A little bit, but don't punish Killian for that. We've been just as rough on him too. And honestly, he's a great guy."

Chewing noiselessly, Emma watched her friend study the onion ring that she had stolen. "You didn't bring me lunch to apologize or tell me he's a great guy."

"Do you remember when you first met Graham?" Ruby asked, her eyes following her fingers as she carefully pulled the fried batter away from the soft onion. "We weren't all that good of friends yet, but you dated him for a few weeks."

"I'm aware of this timeline." Emma had dated him for a few weeks before they called it off. She thought he was getting too serious after a break up from someone else. To her shock and amazement, they had stayed friends. It disproved her theory that she couldn't handle that situation maturely.

"You were fine dating him until we all sort of butted in. David set you two up to be alone in the station that evening. I arranged for that candlelight dinner. Mary Margaret siphoned off the gas so that you guys were stuck together that night you were supposed to go to that birthday party."

"Wait! That was her? I thought…never mind. So what's the point? I'm well aware that my friends seem to derive sick pleasure out of what I do with my dating life." The producer and engineer were arguing a few feet away from them over the levels on the sound system, but she didn't stop them. It was their creative vision as well as Elsa and Anna that they needed to capture.

"You were happy," Ruby said, bringing the focus back to her. "And we pressured you. Once we started you closed down. It was like you didn't want us to win or something."

"It's a little more complicated than that. And I thought you were happy that I didn't date him that long. It made it less weird when you two decided to give it a go." Most friendships weren't strong enough to withstand a partner swap like that. But Emma knew that Ruby was more Graham's type and the pairing though tumultuous and never very permanent seemed to work most of the time.

"What I'm saying is don't discount Killian because we got carried away. If he makes you happy and you make him happy, then I think you should go for it. Who cares what the rest of us think?"

***AAA***

"Killian!" Mary Margaret said in surprise as she threw open the forest green door to her loft apartment. "You came."

He shifted his feet uncomfortably on the landing, looking over her shoulder where David was flipping something in the sauté pan on the stove. He had a dish towel over his shoulder and his law enforcement badge was fastened to one of his belt loops.

"I may be a bit early," he said as she grabbed his forearm to drag him into the apartment.

"Nonsense," she said, widening her smile. "I'm just happy that you came. Where's Emma?"

Giving a tip of his head to David who was acknowledging him similarly from the kitchen, Killian followed his co-worker into the apartment. Her tastes seemed to run deep, he realized, as the décor was quite similar to that of her classroom. Pieces of furniture and decorations that he would have never thought appropriately matched seemed to go together with ease. Framed photographs sat on almost every surface that showed the teacher with friends and loved ones in a variety of locations. In the place of honor next to the love seat that she used as a sofa was a much younger Mary Margaret flanked by what appeared to be her parents. Sharing her father's eyes and her mother's smile, it was clear that the woman was doted on from an early age.

"I'm not sure that she is still joining us," he answered vaguely. After the previous evening, he hadn't called her. Yes, he had been moved and even inspired by Granny's speech. However, he had some pride and self-respect. At least that was what he told himself. There was a part of him that needed Emma to make that next move.

"I could call and check," the other teacher said, looking a little concerned. "But I don't want to…interfere. You know what, let's just not mention Emma tonight."

Removing his jacket and placing it on one of the hooks by the door where she had pointed, Killian followed her into the kitchen area. The entire first floor of the apartment was basically one large room. Screens and artfully hung curtains separated the bedroom space from the rest. A metal set of stairs led to what he guessed was another bedroom or office space. "So this smells very nice – very appetizing. What are we having?"

"It's a Nolan family recipe," David said. "My mother was famous for her lamb chops. I'm trying to teach my beautiful girlfriend the secret of good ones."

"Shall I avert my eyes so that I don't pick up on this secret?" Killian asked, smiling gratefully as the hostess placed a cheese tray in front of him. "I wouldn't want to be accused of espionage."

"No need," Mary Margaret said, shuffling through a few ingredients in one of the cabinets before plucking just the right one. "One thing you should know about me, Killian, is that I'm horrible at keeping secrets. If David wants that recipe to stay undisclosed, he's picked the wrong sous chef."

The three joked and discussed things from the weather and David's desire to try deep sea fishing to some of the students at the academy and a new movie that all three thought looked good from the previews. Insisting that he be allowed to help at least with the prep work, Killian was given a few tasks that he accomplished sitting next to his co-worker at the kitchen island. Even with the tasks he was assigned, Killian was able to take note of the ease between the couple. He was feeling a bit as a third wheel despite their protests that they wanted to get to know him better.

Mary Margaret threw in a few topics of work, keeping him in the conversation by asking a few questions about grading and explaining her philosophy on standardized tests. They commiserated over the new state standards and he admitted his worry over an upcoming observation. David chimed in with his suggestions for classroom management that sounded a bit too much like law enforcement strategies, which led to Killian explaining that his brother had on more than one occasion suggested military education alternatives for the students when he had come home complaining.

It was time for the finishing touches on the meal when all three of them jumped at the loud rapping on the door. David was closest to it and wiped his hands on the towel as he crossed the room to greet whoever it was arriving at such an hour. If Killian was surprised to see Emma standing there with a shopping hand in one bag and a sheepish smile on her face, David wasn't. He enveloped her quickly in a hug and with a slight nudge to her shoulder as he grabbed the bag from her sent her in the direction of Mary Margaret.

"Now we're all here," Mary Margaret said, hugging her friend and pulling off her coat at the same time. "We are just about ready to eat."

She still had not acknowledged Killian, her eyes seeming to stay focused on the ground rather than any one person. "I wasn't sure of the menu, but I brought cheesecake for dessert. I hope that is okay."

"You know I won't turn down cheesecake," David said jovially, pulling the clearly store bought confection out of the canvas bag. "I'm like the Golden Girls. Give me cheesecake, ice cream, or wine, and I'm ready to stay up all night talking about my deepest, darkest, secrets."

"He's even got the floral bathrobe and fuzzy slippers to prove it," Mary Margaret teased. "Killian? Do you mind pouring another glass of wine for Emma? I bet after being in the studio all day that she could use one."

He nodded as the couple took turns explaining the menu to Emma and pushed away her attempts to do so much as dress the salad. She finally gave and pulled off her gloves as she sat on the stool next to Killian. "I wasn't sure I was still invited," she said softly when he told her that he was glad she was there.

"I wasn't sure you would want to come," he countered before taking a sip of the wine that David had sworn was a perfect match for the lamb. "I wasn't sure I wanted to come."

David and Mary Margaret might not have been as overt in their intentions, but it wasn't long before they found reasons to leave Killian and Emma alone. The teacher went in search of earrings that she knew she had borrowed and never returned and David took out the garbage before it got to that overflowing status.

Emma kept her eyes averted from him even when it was clear they were alone only looking up when he finally spoke. She had clearly been expecting a bit of sarcasm or even scolding from him after the night before and the way she had summarily rejected his questions of a future for them beyond friendship.

"You look stunning," he said, his voice a little hoarse.

"Killian, I'm sorry about last night. I was…"

"Let's talk about it later," he suggested quickly with a glance at the bedroom area as if he could gauge how much time it was going to take before they were rejoined. "After we leave?"