I actually wanted to wait with uploading this story on here until it's finished, because the chapters are pretty short and the story is only going to be about 10,000 words long in total, but someone over on Tumblr asked me if I can upload it already now - since it's much easier to read when you're on mobile - and of course she is right, so ... here it is. :-)

Disclaimer: The characters don't belong to me. Just this story.

Forgotten Memories

"Where did you have the best sex of your life?"

Everything came back because of a stupid question in a magazine questionnaire. It was supposed to be a joke – Mary Margaret, Ruby and Elsa coming together at her place to just have a little fun – and then this question happened.

Damn!

Emma hadn't thought of him in years, but one question and everything rushed back. He had been in her thoughts from time to time, at the beginning more often, but they had both hit it big – he became a famous rock star, and she a famous actress - a few months after the week they'd spent together in the mountains, and the memories had faded. Or so she'd thought.

Turned out the memories were anything but faded.

Closing her eyes, Emma leaned her head back, her fingers tightening around the glass in her hand as the memories washed over her.

The first time she saw him he scared the crap out of her, standing in the doorway - all handsome, sexy, dangerous-looking stranger. She had gotten lost in her playing, not expecting anyone actually hearing her play. But he had, and her play had brought him to her doorstep.

It was insane. The instant connection. The fact that she wasn't scared to let a complete stranger walk into her house. Looking at it after all those years, she still could only shake her head.

She'd already slept with him after only knowing him for a few hours, and yes … the best sex she'd ever had in her life had been with him.

But it wasn't only the sex, it was so much more. She knew that now. Back then she didn't think it was that special. But she had apparently held on to the memories, just shoved them into a box, somewhere deep in her brain.

The hours they spent playing together. She at the piano, he on his guitar. The times he sat down beside her, and they played four-handed. The hours they spent cuddled up on a lounge chair or in bed, just talking about their dreams.

Why exactly did they decide to not exchange numbers? Why did she let him get away?

It was almost as if she was on auto-pilot when she reached for her laptop, staring into the distance as she waited for it to boot, and then she opened Google and typed in his name. She just wanted to find out how he'd spent the last ten years. Maybe then she was able to shake this eerie feeling that he still meant more to her than she wanted to admit.

-/-

Killian fought the tears, trying to stop feeling sorry for himself, but here, at this place – the place that only held happy memories – he just broke down. Sobs racked his body, and it got even worse when he heard the hoarseness, the brokenness of his voice as he shouted his pain into the night sky.

Everything was gone.

It had been eleven months, and he was tired of trying to pull himself out of it. It didn't work. It would never work. He'd not only lost the woman he spent most of his career with - the woman he thought was the love of his life, before she told him one night that she never really loved him, only his fame - he'd also lost everything else that meant something to him.

She shouldn't have broken up with him while he was driving, he shouldn't have gotten raging mad. Maybe everything would be different now, if they had both handled it better. But they hadn't, and Killian was now standing in front of the broken shards of his life.

Milah was gone. His voice was gone. His career was gone.

He came here because he'd seen a picture of her on the cover of a magazine, and he hadn't thought of her in years, but just this one picture brought everything back, made a million what if's jump up in his brain.

What would have happened if they had decided to stay together instead of choosing to go their separate ways and not look back?

Tears pricked the back of his eyes again, when he closed his eyes. He could almost imagine to hear Emma's laughter over the soft sound of the waves lapping at the shore.

It had been magical. This one week with her. Pure magic.

They'd spent all their time together. Talking, playing music together, singing, making love. It had been insane how drawn he'd felt to her. But he was young, and thought it was just the surroundings that made it all so special, and then their band had been discovered and he was yanked into a life of fame, forgetting everything that happened before he became a famous rock star.

Looking back now, he realized he'd never felt happier than in the week he spent with Emma.

-/-

Why was she even here?

This was silly. But something had pulled her here. Emma couldn't explain it. She just needed to come here, and when she rounded the last corner of the path, and saw him standing at the lake in the moonlight, she knew the reason why she was here.

She was here because of him.

Emma didn't make a sound, at least she thought she didn't as she just watched him. But suddenly he stiffened and turned around, walking briskly towards her, and even in the dim light she could see his harsh expression. But a few feet away he stopped abruptly and tilted his head, eyeing her carefully, and she saw the exact moment he recognized her, heard the sharp intake of breath.

"Emma, is that you?"

His voice was barely above a whisper, wonder and surprise and disbelief in his tone, as he stepped closer. He lifted his hand as if he wanted to touch her, but then he dropped it again.

"Yes, Killian," she replied softly, her fingers itching to grab his hand and pull him into an embrace, but she didn't know if he would feel comfortable with it. After all, they hadn't seen each other in over ten years. "It's me."