7:10 P.M.

"Neal?"

Her voice sounded so small and weak that it almost didn't register that she had actually addressed him. Staring at the man in front of her, her mouth hung ajar, Emma felt her stomach turn into knots, her throat going dry in his presence. The preconceptions she had anticipated about this wedding weekend from hell were finally coming true – and just as she was beginning to enjoy herself too.

"Hey, babe," the man spoke, the loose tie hung sloppily against his suit as he sauntered closer. Emma felt as if she were going to vomit any minute – both from the shock of seeing him again after all the years and the fact that he reeked of alcohol.

Once a drunk alcoholic, always a drunk alcoholic.

Emma always felt weaker around him and she almost crawled back into herself (the old recollections of beatings and crying and meaningless apologies the next morning). Old habits die hard. She could almost feel his flesh against hers as she begged him to stop (chills running through her body now at the terrible nightmares).

"No," she commanded with a deep breath, placing a hand in front of him to stop. For once, Emma was thankful for tall heels, the stilettos putting her at eye level with her ex-boyfriend. She contemplated how he had even been invited in the first place (and then she remembered that he was a very distant cousin of David – and he was probably still crashing the wedding anyways. If David found out, he'd probably kill Neal).

"Oh, come on, Emma. It's so good to see you again after you left me two years ago," Neal smirked, taking another wobbly step closer to her. "Where ever did you go? You went out for burgers one day and never came back."

Emma scoffed, folding her arms across her chest (mostly an attempt to hide her cleavage that was on prominent display for the perv). "I'm surprised you even remember. Last I saw you were passed out on the couch from another hangover."

"Now don't be that way," he slurred, taking one last forward as his hand found her waist, bunching the emerald fabric up in his unstable hands. "How about a dance?"

Struggling against him, his hold firm around her body, his hips collided against hers and god, she felt like she was going to throw up. "No." The defiance felt feeble against his attempts, the crooked grin consuming his face before pulling her closer, his lips brushing the shell of her ear.

"Okay, got something else in mind?" His mouth blew warm breath against her red-rimmed ear, making a tiny whimper leave her throat in protest. "Perhaps we should take this to my place."

"Neal, stop," she choked, unable to help the sobs that overtook her body as she weakly wrestled against his firm grip around her frame – one arm around her waist and the other holding onto her wrist. His dark chuckle sent an unnerving feeling through her, one that she remembered all too well.

"I believe the lady said no."

The next few seconds were a complete blur to Emma as an arm whipped around her, soundly connecting with Neal's nose in a resounding crack. Falling to the ground, his grip on Emma disappeared. She took the free moment to inhale wildly, trying to catch her breath with her hand held closely against her steadily beating heart.

"What the hell?" Neal cursed, his palm pressed soundly against his bleeding nose. He groaned in pain as he shakily stood up to face Killian, who had moved to stand in front of Emma. Eyeing the man in front of him, and perhaps a bit dizzy from the fall, Neal scoffed, raising his voice in anger, "You know what, take her. She was never that good in bed anyways."

Killian watched Neal stumble towards the exit, one hand placed against his bloody nose as he staggered off, before turning around to face Emma. His heart squeezed inside his chest at the sight of her tear stricken face, slightly red from embarrassment (it felt as if every pair of eyes in the reception were on them, watching, scrutinizing, judging).

"Swan, are you alright?" His voice was soft, blue eyes pleading. Killian cautiously placed his arm around her trembling shoulders when she timidly shook her head no, leading her off the dance floor to a nearby table in the corner of the lively room. "Come on, love."

Steadying her with both hands on her shoulders, he lowered Emma to the seat, the scrap of the metal legs against the floor made Killian wince as he pulled out the chair to sit in front of her. It hurt his heart to see her in this state – completely vulnerable and shell-shocked. He hadn't known her very long but she was an open book. Emma was strong and vivacious and beautiful. This scared little girl in front of him was not her.

Emma swallowed thickly, whipping the tears from her cheeks and exhaling loudly. "Thank you."

Killian nodded, a solemn vow that she understood - anytime. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really." Her voice sounded so small in the loud room, and Killian scooted his chair closer so that he might hear her better. He nodded in understand before she uncomfortably interjected once more. "But it might help."

"You have my full attention, Swan."

Emma drew a breath, squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, and began. "Neal and I dated two years ago. We spent three good months together before something changed. He started becoming more aggressive towards me and he would often come in completely wasted. I…" She paused, Killian's eyes never wavered from her, reaching out to grasp her hand in his with a gentle squeeze to urge her to continue. "He, um…beat me nearly every night. Even when I threatened to tell the police he made me feel worthless, stating that they wouldn't care about a meaningless orphan like me. Most mornings he would apologize and beg me to stay because of how much he claimed that he loved me. And even towards the end when the abuse became sexual, I just…"

Emma felt like her throat was closing up. She couldn't breathe and suddenly it was too much again. The tears were threatening once more at the horrific memories. She had hoped that those days were over, something she'd never have to relive again. As her mouth went dry, she finally made eye contact with Killian, the disappointment written in his features – saddened that she had to endure something like that (no one deserved that, but especially not her).

"How did you escape?" he questioned in a hushed voice, changing the sensitive subject.

"One morning when he was too hung-over to be aware of my whereabouts, I convinced him to let me go get lunch for us. I packed my bags and never returned." As she spoke Emma was biting the inside of her cheek so hard that it's a miracle she hadn't bitten a chunk of it off already, her insides stirring violently like a storm.

"And you haven't seen him since then until tonight?"

Emma nodded her head in confirmation, feeling unable to speak all of a sudden. This feeling was something she had not been accustomed to. Killian stood up for her. She had barely known the man more than a few days and he had already punched her ex-boyfriend. And for a second (merely a nano-second) Emma wondered what she had gotten herself into.

How did she get here - with him? How could that one night at the airport change the entire course of her life? One minute she was fine, pure and simple, then the next she couldn't imagine her life without him in it in some form. The feelings overwhelming, Emma leaped up from her chair to wrap her arms around Killian. He gave a slight grunt at the press of her body against his, before he quickly loosened against her, his hands clutching at the emerald fabric around her waist.

"Thank you, Killian," she whispered into his ear, her warm cheek pressed against his. "If you hadn't stepped in, there's no way to know how tonight might have ended for me."

"It was the right thing to do, love," he breathed against her skin, warm and silky as she moved back to touch her forehead to his. Killian gave a chuckle before speaking, a smile tilting up the ends of his mouth. "Besides, you still owe me a dance."

"Killian…" she warned in almost a whine. So much had happened over the course of the wedding weekend that she had already forgotten about their promised dance. And right now all she wanted was to go back to her hotel room, change into her PJs, and sleep for days. But who could resist those pleading blue puppy dogs eyes that he was giving her, eyebrows arching up in amusement.

"Come on, Emma," Killian coaxed, sliding his hand into hers – sending a jolt up both their spines at the feeling of their fingers meshing together - and pulling her up to stand against him. "I promise it will make you feel better."

Emma gave a slight groan but she knew there was no protesting this. A promise was a promise (and she could already tell that he'd never let her forget it if she wavered). So mustering up all the strength she could, Emma followed.

Killian led her to the middle of the dance floor, a soft tuning playing in the background (yeah he had definitely already planned this with his band members) before he stopped and spun around to face her. He took a step closer and, on pure instinct, she took a step back – fear still written in her eyes from earlier, begging, pleading him.

"It's alright, Swan. It's just me," he whispered to her with assurance, cautiously wrapping an arm around her waist. "Just relax." With a soft sigh, Killian could feel her almost deflate in his arms, melting into his embrace. He took one more step closer until finally, finally, their bodies were pressed together, hearts beating against the other. Their hands were positioned out to the side – somewhat reminiscent of a classic waltz.

With grace, he moved them leisurely across the floor, his body pressing into hers at every angle, every move, and it was pure pleasure, giving both of them a high that neither had felt in years. It was almost like a drug, and Emma instantly craved to pull him even closer, her forehead resting against his cheek.

Emma could feel the blood fluidly flowing through her veins, heart pumping wildly inside. She had never been in love, but she would imagine it felt something like this – two souls becoming one, the primal need to be with that person (physically, spiritually, mentally), the feeling of safety. Emma had always sworn against love at first sight, but Killian Jones would make a believer out of her yet.

The music continued, soft, slow, sensual, as they moved against each other almost like two practiced lovers who had been doing this dance their whole lives. When she felt his lips press to that spot just below her ear, she stiffened for only a moment, finally allowing herself to lean into his embrace. As their dance continued, Killian moved his lips down her neck, gentle kisses peppering salty skin. And when he arrived at the spot where her neck and shoulder met, he darted out his tongue to taste her before gently sucking at her pulse point.

Emma let out a low moan at the feeling of him, his tongue doing wicked things and driving her mad with want and desire. Shifting every so slightly in their dance, she could feel Killian's arousal growing hard against her thigh (apparently she wasn't the only one with desire at the moment).

Killian groaned into her ear when she grinded against him, her hips colliding perfectly with his, seeking any kind of friction that their clothes would allow. "Perhaps we could, uh…"

Taking a leap, Emma stood up on the tips of her toes to nibble on his earlobe, causing Killian to grunt and giving Emma the opportunity to finish the sentence for him, panting the words that sent a jolt of heat through him. "Take this to my room."

8:00 P.M.

Emma had never been more thankful in her entire life for her hotel room and the reception to be in the same building.

The door had barely clicked shut behind them before Emma pounced, her lips molding to his as she pulled him closer, clawing at his vest. And when she couldn't get the buttons off after a few moments, Emma used her pent up frustrations to tear them off, the buttons popping loose and falling to the floor helplessly, along with his vest which she quickly shoved over his broad shoulders.

"Emma," he murmured against her lips, a breath caught between them, walking her backwards towards the bed where she landed with a soft bounce.

Emma giggled (and for a moment she felt light and dizzy and honestly, she had not even drank anything tonight – okay, maybe one glass of champagne) as she flopped back on the bed, her hair splaying around her like a golden halo. Killian tentatively worked his way on top of her, consciously keeping his full weight off of her.

"Emma-" he started once again before she cut him off with another searing kiss, mouths pressed tightly together before tongues explored, and Killian felt like he was loosing himself in her, trying his best to stay focused and not relinquish control of the situation.

He was too deep in thought to be able to protest as Emma locked her heels around his waist and unexpectedly flipped them over, her hips fitting perfectly against his as she straddled him, the emerald bridesmaid's dress she was wearing now being pushed higher up her creamy thighs. Emma ran her fingers over his chest, trying her best to undo the buttons of his shirt (thank god they were easier to manage than the ones on his vest). And when her fingers finally met his skin, she couldn't help but roll her hips into his, eliciting heavy pants from the pair.

It wasn't much longer, their lips still connected while hands roamed and explored, before Emma's fingers landed on his belt. She struggled against the latch trying her best to undo it until Killian place his hand on top of hers, sloppily detaching their lips.

"Swan, what are you doing?"

"I owe you," she huffed, swatting his hand away and attempting once more to unlock his belt.

"No, you don't," he urged right as she managed to open the belt, slowly pulling down the zipper of his pants and palmed his straining erection in the process. "Emma, you don't have to do this."

She stopped, jerking her hands away from him as if she had touched a hot stove. Brows furrowed and lips pressed into a tight, thin line, she crossed her arms across her chest. "What is it Killian? Don't tell me you don't want this. Because obviously you do."

Running a hand through his messy hair (where her fingers had been only moments ago, scrapping and grabbing), Killian sat up, moving out from under her to rest his body against the headboard of the bed. "Emma, I've wanted you from the first moment I saw you. But, love, you're too vulnerable for this right now. You are not yourself, your judgment is clouded." Killian paused, finally allowing his gaze to meet hers.

He felt like he had been punched in the gut. Her face was twisted in confusion – part anger, part hurt. Reaching his hand out towards her, he clarified, "I just don't want you to do anything that you might regret."

Shoving his hand away, Emma sat up straighter, scooting further away from him in the process, her dress swishing against the stiff hotel bed sheets. "So you don't want to have sex with me?"

"Swan, you know I do. I think we just need to take it slow. This is all still new –"

"Get out."

He couldn't help the way his mouth hung ajar at her outburst, taken aback by the harshness in her tone. "Excuse me?"

"I said – Get. Out." Her teeth gritted firmly, Killian watched her clench her fists at her thighs, her face turning red and the tears already stinging.

Killian shook his head, his shoulders falling in rejection. "Come on, love. I know you don't mean that. You're still upset over Neal and-"

Interrupting him, she jumped up from her place on the bed, her breathing uneven and blood now boiling, "Shut the hell up, Killian Jones, and get out of my room."

He stood there for a minute in confusion (how did this situation go from one extreme to the other so quickly?), watching her run around the room, gathering his clothes before she threw them at him, the tears now flowing freely down her face as she pointed towards the door. "Go! Get out of here!" A pause. "I don't want you here anymore!"

Trying his best to keep his own tears at bay, he gave her a quick nod, deciding it best to leave before turning and walking out (bare-chested, clothes still in hand when the door slammed noisily behind him).

It wasn't long before she collapsed, crying herself to sleep, praying that the whole night had actually been a dream.

3:15 A.M.

It wasn't.

And she was stupid.

God, she was such an idiot.

11:25 A.M. – The Next Day

Once again, Emma found herself being shoved into another crowded airplane (except this time she was finally heading back home), children screaming and couples arguing. But all she was looking for were blue eyes.

She never found them.

12:00 P.M. – Two Weeks Later

"I can't believe I let you talk me in to this," Emma grumbled, holding the phone between her ear and her shoulder as she reapplied her lipstick one last time, looking in the car mirror once more before exiting.

"Oh, come on, Emma," Ruby exclaimed happily from the other end of the line. "It will be good for you! Ever since you returned from the wedding you've done nothing but mope. This coffee date is just what you need!"

"I have not moped," Emma retorted, fixing her skirt outside of the coffee shop as she leaned against the doorframe. "Okay, so maybe a little. My head just wasn't in a good place at the time."

"And that's why now is the perfect time to get you back out there."

Emma huffed. There was never any winning with her best friend. "Fine. But this better be good, Ruby. What did you say he looked like?"

"He's attractive. What's the expression? Tall, dark and handsome. Trust me, you'll know him when you see him."

Inhaling and exhaling, Emma gave herself one last once over before placing her hand on the doorknob and ending the call with a click, "Wish me luck."

For it to be noon in this city, the quaint coffee shop was rather slow, a few table occupied by chatty people, a few college students typing away furiously on laptops. She stood in the doorway a few moments, studying her surrounds. This is so stupid, Emma thought to herself, almost turning around to exit before a glimpse of blue caught her attention.

No way.

It couldn't be.

"Killian?" she questioned as he leaped up from the table, smile broad across his face. To be someone she had thrown out of her hotel room, he looked rather happy to see her.

"Swan. It's so good to see you again." He took a step closer (blue flannel shirt, tight skinny jeans and god, he smelled divine) before Emma held her hand up, urging him not to come any closer. Her heart was racing and she could feel the blood pumping in her ears. It felt as if the tiny room was closing in on her and she suddenly couldn't breathe.

With her lips trembling, Emma swallowed thickly before speaking, murmuring to herself, "I can't do this. I've gotta go."

She had barely turned on her heels when Killian caught her arm tenderly, pulling her back against him – his voice weak and saddened. "Emma, don't run away again."

Ignoring the crack in his voice (and the people now staring) she angrily spun around to face him, finger poking into his chest with vigor. "You knew it was going to be me."

"Ruby sought me out, Emma, I swear," he promised, holding his hands up in surrender. "And when she asked me to meet you here, it seemed like fate giving me a second chance with you. I had to see you again, love."

Emma never knew why her feelings were always so conflicted when it came to him. They had one perfect night at the airport (that night that felt like a beautiful dream) and then the disastrous wedding night (which had truly felt like a nightmare). But now he was here. He was sincere. And she was honestly surprised that her high walls and emotional issues had not scared him off yet.

And the way he looked at her as if she had hung the stars in the sky, gave her a feeling deep in her gut that she had never felt. And maybe that's what scared her so much - the commitment, or more precisely, the worry of how soon things could go from good to worse. She didn't want another Neal situation. He had ruined her trust for any man, yet Killian had easily earned it in one simple night.

He was different. And suddenly Emma realized that this was a good thing.

Ducking her head in embarrassment, Emma took a breath and spoke. "I'm sorry for what I did, Killian. Honestly. I was in a bad place and it truly seemed like a good solution at the time. I just wanted to feel good and I apologize for trying to use you like that. It was wrong."

Killian's mouth tilted into an understanding smile, giving her a quick nod. "Swan –"

"No, let me finish. I also wanted to say thank you," she interrupted, wincing a little at how pathetic she probably sounded. But he was still here, looking at her with those too-blue eyes and nodding in encouragement (so she continued). "Thank you for keeping control and knowing me even better than I know myself. Any other guy would have used my weak state to their advantage. But you didn't. You're different."

Killian released a breath that he had probably been holding since she had walked through the door. Relief. Joy. Hope. Reaching up to cup her cheek with his hand, he couldn't help the grin that somehow worked its way onto his face. "Apology accepted, love. Now what do you say we have our coffee date as planned?"

Biting her lip in contemplation, Emma caught his hand before he walked off, pulling their hands palm to palm. "One thing first."

"Anything, Swan."

"I want us to start over. Let's forget everything that has happened these past two weeks - the airport, the flight, the wedding, the fight," she added with a grimace, full well knowing that last one was her fault. "I want to give us a second chance. From the beginning."

She watched him consider her proposal internally before he took a quick step backwards, letting go of her hand in the process (and for a second she had thought she had lost him for good). But then he did something she didn't expect. He extended his hand out towards her.

"Hello. I'm Killian Jones."

With a smile, she took it and gave it a firm shake – unable to control the smirk on her face as she 'introduced' herself once more. "Emma Swan. It's very nice to meet you, Killian."