Emma Swan had been afraid many times during her lonely life in the foster system, but she had never been more afraid than in this moment.

It was as if she had stepped into her own sci-fi movie - complete with a swirling portal opening up in the middle of Central Park right in front of her. She nervously glanced around her, the vortex roaring with power causing her blonde ponytail to sway violently, only for her to notice that she was alone.

Alone and terrified.

No one would believe her, a poor nineteen-year-old orphan who had to steal and thieve her way around just to make rent on her crummy one bedroom apartment, and Emma had to pinch herself to make sure this was actually happening.

But it wasn't until a body (tall and lanky) was thrown through that she let out an audible gasp, taking a tentative step back. The swirling madness finally ceased, closing itself up and leaving the man, whose face was planted down into the dirt, behind.

After it had disappeared there was nothing but silence, the world so quiet around her that Emma could actually hear the vacant hum of electricity in the air, her breathing still hard and labored. When she realized that the body on the ground still had not moved (how much time had actually passed? Seconds? Minutes?), Emma cautiously stepped forward, approaching the man.

"Bloody hell," he muttered, spitting dirt out of his mouth, hand shakily running through his long, messy locks. He slowly began to pick himself up, coughing a few times, back still turned towards her as he cleaned the stains from his once pristine uniform.

"Hey. Are you okay?" Emma almost hadn't realized that she had spoken to him until he stilled, obviously not realizing that he was not alone.

The man ran the palms of his hands down his slacks and her heart sped up in the anticipation of him finally facing her. During her years in the system, Emma had heard many a tale of foreign and strange lands, mystical objects, aliens, and even magic beanstalks, but she had never expected to run straight into a fairy tale of her own.

When she saw the portal for the first time, it had obviously frightened her. But Emma's nerves quickly changed to confusion at not the sight of a little green alien, but a grown man (who was currently having a very difficult time in figuring out his surroundings).

Lifting himself off the ground, he gave a grunt before finally turning to face her. "Give me a few moments to get my wits about me, and I'll let you know, love."

Definitely not what she was expecting.

Emma had been anticipating translucent skin and an antenna, not Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome. The man must have been a god that had dropped down to earth (what other explanation could there be for the swirling vortex she had just witnessed?), but he seemed just as stunned as her, his voice low and a look of fear taking over his features. His blue eyes met her green ones, hiding behind the dark frame of her glasses, and Emma swore that her heart had stopped beating just at the sight of him (and it seemed like she had the same effect on him as well).

"You…I – I wasn't really expecting that to work…" His buckled boot clad feet shuffled awkwardly in the dirt as his voice trailed off, mumbling to himself, face growing redder by the minute.

Ignoring his uneasiness, Emma stepped forward, hands placed firmly on her hips. She felt the surge of confidence and control that years of taking care of herself had refined now flowing through her bones, almost a fire coursing inside, right under her skin. "What the hell was that?"

"A portal," he casually explained, as if she should have known the fact already. "Now would you mind, miss, telling me where I am?"

"New York," Emma replied curtly, eyeing the man as he yanked his long locks back into a small ponytail, resting at the top of his neck (and definitely not making her stomach do little flips that she had not felt in a while). "You're not from here are you?"

"What gave it away?" He stopped short of his own words, eyes widening at his tone. He seemed flustered, as if he knew that he had made a grave mistake. "I apologize, milady. I did not mean to seem rude. Lieutenant Killian Jones at your service."

And then he bowed low, pulling his feet back, arm resting across his stomach and gaze fixed to the ground. The act caused the ends of Emma's mouth to tilt up in a crooked grin. The man was obviously confused, cheesy, yet totally making Emma's heart beat rapidly at the moment by the sweet (yet foreign) gesture.

(It was as if he had stepped out of a storybook – her own version of a knight in shining armor.)

When she didn't immediately respond to him, Killian finally glanced up at her, nervousness making his eyebrows arch in confusion. "Now would be an appropriate time to tell me your name as well, if you so choose to grace me with it."

She saw a flicker of the cocky man she had been expecting only grace his face briefly, before he looked up at her with hopeful and expectant eyes. This man – this Killian Jones - obviously knew nothing about Emma or her past, but somehow he had already managed to bewitch her heart and soul, intriguing her in a way that no man (no one, if she was being completely honest) ever had before.

And, looking back on it, that is why she supposes that she answered him.

"Emma. Emma Swan. And there's no need to bow. I'm not royalty or anything."

His hand was outstretched towards her, reaching, grasping to tentatively meet her's, and Emma only hesitated for a second (his eyes full of honesty and youthfulness and she could hear them practically screaming "trust me"), before placing her smaller hand in his (his skin rough from time aboard the ship and, just in that instant, she knew that he had years of stories written upon his skin, a tale in each mark).

He pulled her hand towards his mouth (almost on instinct, as if he had been through years of training that had been engraved into his system), placing a small kiss upon the tips of her fingers, and Emma let a small gasp escape at the contact because Jesus that was unexpected. "I believe every woman should be treated as such."

"Smooth talker," she chimed in with an eye roll, pulling her hand back to her side, skin still tingling where his lips had left their mark. "Where did you say you were from?"

(She madly rubbed at the place where his mouth had touched her, trying, urging the spark to go away, for her heart to not fall. She couldn't do this – couldn't trust – just for her to be left alone once again)

"I come from a realm known as the Enchanted Forest," he explained, fiddling with the cuffs of his uniform. It didn't take a rocket scientist to realize that he was nervous (and he had the right to be – thrown into a strange land with a random woman almost playing twenty questions with him), but it felt like more than that to Emma. For a man in his early twenties, Killian seemed to be shy and naïve, as if he had been sheltered and protected by someone (a difficult past probably lying somewhere deeply beneath).

"The Enchanted Forest?" she snorted, a sarcastic laugh crossing her lips. "Like Snow White and Cinderella and the Easter Bunny?"

"Yes to the princesses, no to the rabbit."

Her first instinct was to laugh, because seriously what the hell was going on here? But his face was earnest and her heart was thumping too loudly at the moment for her to even hear her own thoughts. Narrowing her eyes at him, he crouched a little under her scrutiny until a small smile broke out over her face. "I almost wouldn't believe you if it weren't for the swirling vortex of doom that just spit you out."

Killian straightened himself up from his bowed position, breathing out a sigh of frustration in reply. "Which, unfortunately, does not stay open long enough for the return trip home."

"So how are you going to get back?"

He grew silent, quietly contemplating her question before shrugging his shoulders slightly in defeat. "I have absolutely no idea."

She studied him – the stranger, this man that had somehow already confused and intrigued her, leaving her mind a jumble and making her doubt everything that she had once thought about the world. He was different, and not just because he wasn't from her time period. There was something special about this Killian guy, something raw and honest, completely and utterly beautiful. And Emma Swan had every intention in finding out what it was.

Her eyes flickered towards his and she knew that every word he had spoken was true (at the moment she didn't know why – why she felt this pull, this longing deep in her gut to trust him, to know him, to not take her eyes off of him) and Emma instantly felt the beginnings of her walls (those few pieces that had been laid by her parents who had abandoned her on the side of a freeway, by all of the foster families who sent her back, by those who had overlooked her because she was too old) begin to weaken for him.

"Look, you seem like a nice guy. And I have this thing for knowing when people are lying and you seem genuine in your words." She paused, watching his nervousness slowly fade as she took a step closer. "Why don't I show you around until you can figure out how to get back home?"

"Well unless you have any magic beans lying around, I'm afraid it's going to be almost impossible."

Emma bit her tongue to keep from chuckling, both at the inherent silliness of his words and the situation that she had somehow stumbled upon (only her, she mocked inside). "Come on, it's starting to get dark." Without a second thought, she grabbed his hand, dragging him towards her yellow bug that had been parked on the side of the street. "Let's get you some food and some sleep, and we'll figure it out in the morning."

"Oh I couldn't," he hesitated as she pulled him to a stop in front of the vehicle. He eyed the door in curiosity (or more honestly, confusion), before continuing his excuses. "I don't want to intrude. It would be bad form."

"Look, you obviously have no idea about…well, anything here. If I'm quite honest, you look like a lost, scared little puppy." She paused to chuckle lowly to herself, reaching around him - the smell of the sea still fresh on his tanned skin – to open the door and shove him inside. It was awkward, seeing as he didn't know what to do with the metal contraption she was shoving him into, but she sensed that he trusted her (what other choice did he honestly have at the moment?). Emma quickly moved to the other side of the car, slipping inside the driver's seat, and buckling herself up. "Besides, I would enjoy the company."

"You're alone?" Killian questioned, giving a sharp intake of breath when she reached around to help him buckle his seatbelt, since he obviously had no idea what he was doing.

"For the most part," she shrugged, putting the yellow bug into drive before steering out onto the road. "Pretty much have been my whole life."

"You're an orphan too."

She hit the brakes a little too sharply, causing Killian to jolt in his seat. Wincing, and mouthing a breathy "sorry", Emma pressed the gas petal gently, avoiding his eyes as she spoke. "How'd you know?"

"You, lass, are somewhat of an open book. Plus I know the look that you had in your eyes. I myself have it as well. Now it's just me and my older brother Liam." From her peripheral vision, Emma could see his smile fading as he thought to himself, and it only made the pull towards him grow even stronger. "God knows I've probably scared him to death leaving through the portal like that. I'll be sure to get an earful whenever I find a way back. If I find a way back, that is."

And Emma didn't know why she did, being young and naïve (and probably having way too much of a teenage crush at the moment), she grabbed his hand, easily lacing her fingers through his, the other still firmly planted on the wheel. "Don't worry about it, Killian. We'll figure it out."

She gave it a squeeze and Killian's face grew redder, keeping his eyes downcast from hers, as if he looked her way he was going to suddenly combust from embarrassment.

He was absolutely adorable like that, blue eyes contrasting nicely with his reddened cheeks, hair tied neatly at the nape of his neck (and she wanted nothing more than to run her fingers through it, teenage thoughts giving way to more suggestive intentions). She shoved the ball of desire in the pit of her stomach away, knowing that it only led to heartbreak.

And already, even though she hardly knew the man, Emma knew that she just couldn't do that too him.

With a soft sigh drifting past her lips, they rode in silence a few miles before she pulled over, parking on the side of the street in front of a quaint Italian restaurant.

"We're here."

He frowned, obviously unfamiliar with the signage – and particularly the guy dancing around outside in the pizza costume, flyers in hand. "What is this place?"

"Local pizza joint," she informed him, nodding for him to open the door and step out of the car. Quickly, Emma took her place beside him again, linking her arm through his and chatting animatedly as they walked. "Not the best quality but it's usually all I can afford. Plus, you can't beat the service here."

The door opened with a jingle, the few pairs of eyes in the near empty room turning towards them. Black and white checkered tile covered the floor, the walls painted in a warm red, and the man behind the counter – short and plump, accent thick – lit up at the sight of her, wide grin spreading across his face.

"Emma! It's been too long!" His belly shook in delight as he spoke, moving to stand behind the counter in front of them.

"Hey, Antonio," Emma smiled back easily, splaying her fingers across the counter, eyes not even moving towards the menu before ordering. "Two slices of pepperoni please."

For Emma, this place was the closest thing she had to family. The Italians that ran the diner had welcomed her without a second thought, feeding her and never questioning when she was low on cash. Heck, even Antonio's wife Rita had taken her shopping for sheets for her twin-sized bed when she had moved into the apartment nearby.

At the moment, they were all she had.

And, almost being like the embarrassing parent type, Antonio glanced towards Killian with a knowing smile, eyebrow rising in amusement. "And who might this handsome, young man be?"

"This is Killian. He's kind of new here."

"No kidding." The man chuckled, giving Killian (and his naval uniform) a once over, finally reaching on the counter behind him to slide two plates towards them, steaming fresh slices eagerly awaiting to be eating. "On the house. Enjoy, you two."

Taking the pizzas in hand, Emma thanked the man before leading them towards a booth in the back – her usual – sliding in as she spoke. "Okay so we may need to get you a new wardrobe after this. You don't exactly fit in here with the naval uniform."

Killian chuckled, obviously feeling more comfortable about her and the situation at hand, sliding into the booth in front of her as if he had been doing it his whole life already. "Well I'd say I look rather dashing, don't you think?"

A shy wink sent her way had Emma's heart racing, and she tried her best to get it to slow down before she spoke to him, knowing that her voice would probably sound nervous and love-struck (she was, damn him).

After a moment, she finally looked up – face still red from the heart stopping wink – seeing that Killian was looking down at the food in front of him in question. She wanted to laugh at his lack of knowledge, but she bit her tongue once more, sliding the plate closer to him instead as she spoke.

"It's called pizza. Cheese, marinara sauce, bread, pepperoni. Greasy but good. A food staple here for those who can't afford more."

Killian glanced her way, and when she nodded that it was alright, he picked up the greasy food, cheese already starting to slide off before he caught it, suddenly stuffing the majority of it into his mouth.

She eagerly watched him chew, waiting for a reaction (and when he moaned in pleasure it most certainly did not get her thoughts racing, heat shooting down below and a feeling of warmth and desire setting over her).

"Bloody hell. This is delicious," he spoke in a muffled voice, his mouth full of cheesy goodness. Emma reached for a nearby napkin and dabbed at the splotch of marinara that had gotten stuck to the side of his mouth. He gave her a cheesy (literally) grin, swallowing the food, eyes wide in amazement. "Pardon my language, milady, but this is the best thing I've ever eaten."

Emma giggled, adjusting the glasses that had slipped down her nose, before picking up her own slice and taking a bite. "Pizza can do that to you. And I told you, it's Emma."

His face softened, hand reaching across the table to lie on top of hers. She chewed her pizza in silence, trying her best to ignore the way his skin felt against hers, until his head ducked down, obviously trying to catch her gaze. And when he finally did, blue eyes meeting her green ones, Killian smiled. "Well thank you, Emma."