A/N: Here's my The Words fic because my lovely friend wanted one and she's awesome. I don't know why I did it to myself but it's a multi-chapter fic. Hope you enjoy it!

It's the last one, Emma. Just one more and then it's David's turn for a week.

Emma sat in the office. The bright neon lights illuminated the, otherwise dark, room and made an irritating, buzzing noise. Her red, leather jacket was hanging on the chair and she had taken her boots, also made from the same material, off and stuffed them under her desk.

Night shifts always felt so useless.

A stack of paper files, protected by brown folders, filled the majority of the desk and Emma sighed while singing off another rapport.

Emma loved every part of her job as sheriff, except one.

The one she was currently doing.

Storybrooke wasn't a town where terrible things happened. There were no high-speed car chases or life-threatening situations. It was the town you saw on postcards, with its nice and helpful inhabitants and the eternal calm that was always present. For the better part, Emma's day consisted of writing parking tickets and going to mediate small disputes. The most action she saw, was when someone spent a little too long in The Rabbit Hole and could use a night in the cell to sober up. If the days were like that, you could imagine how the nights were.

To be quite honest, they were boring.

There wasn't any use for her and David both being here, so they created a system. It was a good call making the system, but Emma just didn't like being alone.

Before her shift, she passed by Granny's to order a grilled cheese and some onion rings. The only thing that kept her going was the fact that she had promised herself those when she finished every last file on that desk. She already regretted her commitment.

Feeling the need for some coffee, she walked towards the little kitchen they had at the station. Despite her socks, her feet still felt the cold of the floor and she hurried back with a warm, strong cup to keep her awake.

"Come on, Emma. Only..."

She interrupted her sentence to count the remaining files.

"5 more to go and then, it's dinner time."

Because she was all alone in a dark space, Emma had the tendency to talk to herself.

Not in a creepy way, may she add, but just about banalities that she observed or encouragement to get through the work. Even though she didn't like being here, the dark actually helped her think. A month ago she came up with an idea for an extra driving course. There had been far too many accidents with Cruella and her eccentric car and even the rest of the town didn't drive as well as they thought. When David came to relieve her from duty, she told him her idea and he was convinced instantly. He told her they would discuss it later and the whole event turned into a success.

The pile had nearly completely vanished and when she turned the page of the last case, Emma felt relieved. It was finally time to eat a bit of heaven.

She went back to the kitchen to get a plate and just when she was about to sit down the phone went off.

"No! Come on," she exclaimed.

The ringing kept on going on. She picked up and much to her disappointment, it was an automatic alarm system. There was a burglary happening somewhere in Storybrooke and she was expected to arrive there as fast as possible.

"I guess I'll have to wait before I can eat," she said while zipping up her boots, one by one.

She made sure the car keys were in her pocket, took her jacket and put it on.

"Let's go play the savior."

She heard a distant ring, so she went in the direction of that. She drove further away from the town's center and more to the forest side.

Was there even a store here?

The alarm stopped, but Emma hadn't arrived yet. There was only one road.

If she followed it, she should end up where she has to be, right?

She tried to make out anything in the dark and when she finally saw it, it was clear that this was the place. Shattered glass was lying around the building. She could, however, still read the letters. Black and Bloom, flowers for every occasion

A flower shop.

With a strange name.

She did know that there was a florist in town, where else would Mary Margaret's various bouquets come from, run by Belle's father, but a second one?

She got out of the car and walked towards the shop.

"Hello?" she shouted.

She had taken her flashlight to take a look at the damage. She heard some ruckus in the back and talked again.

"This is the sheriff, is anyone there?"

This time she put some authority in her voice, to make sure he or she knew who they were dealing with.

"Aye, I'm here," an accented voice said.

A man walked out of the room and put his hands up.

"And who might you be?"

Emma shined the flashlight in his eyes and it looked like they shined the light right back at her.

"Killian Jones, the owner of the shop."

He slowly walked towards the wall and made a gesture towards something in the shadow.

"May I turn on the light? I think it would be far easier to- well, do anything."

Emma nodded and when nothing happened, she realized that he couldn't actually see her.

"Yes, go ahead."

The man crossed the room to the light switch. Glass crackled under his feet and when he finally reached the wall, it stopped. The light went on and Emma had to close her eyes. They were working on full night-sight and were a bit overwhelmed by the brightness.

"Sheriff Swan, it's a pleasure."

Now that the lights were back, she took another look at him.

He was dressed in a navy blue t-shirt and he wore a black cotton pair of pants.

It was clear that he raced out of bed to get here as fast as possible. His black hair was tousled and it was pointed in all directions, but still looked amazing.

Emma was secretly a bit jealous of those people. Her hair in the morning looked more like a bird's nest than anything else. Before her train of thought took her away, she noticed something. He knew who she was.

Emma, you're the sheriff and we're in Storybrooke. Is there anyone who doesn't know you?

"I wouldn't say pleasure, Mr. Jones, seeing that your place just got trashed. Did you see the person who did this?" she paused to look around. "Do you know if anything was stolen?"

Why would someone even rob a flower shop?

She looked at the ground and saw she was standing on a flower. The blue leaves were brightly colored and Emma ducked down. She was right, a forget-me-not. It was possible that this was the flower tattooed on her wrist.

The other possibility?

A buttercup.

She had to, shamefully, admit that she picked it more for aesthetic purposes than for a story behind it.

"I haven't really looked, but chances are that nothing was stolen," The florist replied and Emma's face turned confused.

"But if you haven't looked, how would you know that? You surely have something of value in here. It could be gone."

The man shook his head. He was persistent.

"Okay." Emma tried again. "Why would anyone do this to your shop if they didn't come to steal anything." She raised her eyebrows at him and really wanted to hear his answer on this question.

"It could be a rebellion against flower shops? Or maybe they just have something against daffodils." He smirked, but Emma was not amused.

"Mr. Jones, if you know who did this, you should tell me and let me do my job."

He ran his hand through his hair. His stupid, perfect, "I woke up like this" hair.

"It won't be necessary, Sheriff. I'll take care of it myself."

"I didn't give you a choice. Tell me who did this, so I can put the bastard behind bars."

He scanned the room and walked past her. Emma turned to him. He handed her a pink rose, one of the only flowers that was not destroyed. She hesitantly accepted it, not knowing what to do with it.

"Go home, lass. You can't do anything here. The culprit is gone and nothing was stolen. You're welcome to stay for the cleanup, but I think going home is far more comfortable than to clear shards of glass off the floor. Thank you for coming so fast and goodnight."

She didn't like it when people told her what to do or when they tried to get rid of her, but if he wasn't telling her anything, what was the use?

She could stay here, but the chances that he would actually tell her were slim. He had a good poker face. Also, there was a nice meal waiting for her at the sheriff's station and she was starving.

"I'll go back to the office to prepare the paperwork, but I need to come back tomorrow. It doesn't matter what you say, this has to be investigated."

She showed him that there was no use in arguing because her mind was set. Now she had to see if he'd try to change it. He glanced at her and saw something that made him follow.

"All right. I'm so looking forward to that paperwork. It's my favorite thing."

She left him standing in the mess and walked back to the car and muttered

"You and me both, buddy. You and me both."

She returned around in the late afternoon.

The glass fragments had disappeared and Emma walked in with the papers in her hand. The floor was completely cleared of anything that didn't belong there and a few bouquets were standing on the racks. The ring of the door announced her presence and the florist showed up. His hair looked the same as last night, but he had traded in his PJ's for a gray, knitted sweater and a pair of jeans.

She had to admit that he looked fine in both of the outfits.

"Good afternoon, sheriff. I take it you've come with the documents."

She nodded. "Hello, Mr. Jones. You've cleaned up quite well, I see."

He laughed. "Thank you for the compliment. I usually don't come to work in my pajamas, but I didn't really have the time to change yesterday. I came here as fast as possible."

Emma threw him a confused look. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, it dawned on her.

"Oh, um. I actually meant that you've cleaned up the shop."

His eyes widened and his hand went to his head. He paused for a second and then awkwardly scratched his head.

"Apologies, lass. I mistook your statement. Let's sign the papers," he suggested and the hand went to grab a pen that was lying on the counter.

She handed him the files.

"I still need to take a look around."

"I don't see the use in that, but feel free to control everything."

He skimmed through the letters on the paper, while Emma walked around. The mess was completely gone, so looking for clues was useless. She squatted down when a small object claimed her attention. She picked it up and inspected it. She sensed his presence behind her and looked over her shoulder.

"This doesn't mean anything to you, does it?" she asked and showed him the bracelet charm.

Emma's knowledge of flowers was limited, but she did know this was a daisy.

She wasn't able to read him before, but now his face showed sadness. He put his hand out and she placed the piece of jewelry in it.

He tenderly touched it. She kept looking at him.

His blue eyes betrayed the emotional attachment to the object and before Emma could say anything about it, he started speaking.

"No, I'm guessing one of my clients must've dropped it. It's a mere trinket."

His attitude was composed again and the little flower disappeared into his pocket.

"Here you have the files back. I'm assuming that this ends your investigation."

Emma stood back up.

"Look, Mr. Jones."

He interrupted her, "You can call me Killian, sheriff."

She had to make this clear to him. She was the sheriff and if everyone did what they wanted in Storybrooke, it would turn into a chaos very fast.

"Okay, Killian, I still call the shots here and I'm not convinced that this was a one-time thing. I think you know that too and I also think you have a reason not to file a complaint against whoever did this. So no, I'm not done with the investigation. I can't let a citizen of this town live with the liability of being harmed. I'm just going to keep coming back until you talk and if you don't... It's looking like we're going to spend some time together. I must mention that I'm not going to do anything. I'll be here, doing completely nothing. Maybe I'll even bring my paperwork. I know how much you like that."

She ended her speech, convinced that he would spill the beans and that she would finally be able to do her job. He only had to tell her and then she could arrest the person. He rolled up his sleeves and smirked. The reason why quickly became clear.

"Sheriff Swan, I did not know you felt this way. I mean I fancied you from time to time, but you suggested it yourself. I'll gladly spend some more time with you. Maybe I could even teach you a thing or two about botany."

He raised his eyebrow and Emma suddenly felt the urge to get that smirk off his charming face in any way possible.

He made everything even worse.

"So, you're welcome here anytime, sheriff. I'm looking forward to our rendezvous."

He winked at her and Emma damned him.

Emma! Don't let him be victorious. You are the sheriff; you can't let him boss you around. But it's true that you gave him the opening and he only used it. Fuck. You can't back down now.

Emma replied and over the next few days she would beat herself up because she didn't find a better one.

"Okay, see you tomorrow."