A/N: So there have been a billion things written and inspired by "The Words" music video, and I'm here to make it a billion and one. This is an idea that I've been playing with for a while now, and that glorious music video just pushed me over the edge to actually writing it. If you've never seen "Bed of Roses" - it's a movie, Christian Slater is in it - well, you should check it out. This fic was definitely inspired by that movie as well as Christina's song. I hope you guys like this.

Chapter One
All of the Lights

It was late January, and the wind was far too biting for anyone sane to be out walking the streets of the city, especially at this hour. But it had been a long time since anyone had accused Killian Jones of sanity.

Every night, like clockwork, he closed up shop and then walked aimlessly - sometimes for a few hours, sometimes just once or twice around the block. It just depended on the day, and his mood. He never had any particular destination, he never spoke to anyone or really even looked at any of his surroundings. He just walked. It was a better alternative, in his mind, to going home to that empty farmhouse on the outskirts of town that was far too haunted with memories and ghosts of the past that just wouldn't die.

The weatherman on the classic rock station he listened to in the shop said that a Nor'easter was expected to blow in sometime in the next forty-eight hours. Killian just turned up his collar and pulled on his coat, killing the lights and locking the door behind him.

There had been a blizzard the night he'd lost everything.

He definitely needed to walk.

There was nothing different about this particular night, not really. The chill nipped at the tips of his ears - he really should invest in a hat - and he stuffed his hands in his pockets, keeping his eyes down as he took his normal route around the block his shop was located on.

There wasn't anything different about tonight at all, really.

Except this was the night he looked up.

oXo

"Emma, there's a delivery for you at reception!"

Emma Swan inwardly groaned, looking up from the computer screen where she'd been doing case research. This paralegal gig wasn't really everything she'd dreamed of and more, but she'd needed something different, a change of pace, once she'd come to the realization that her job as a bailbonds person wasn't ever going to enable her to find what she was looking for.

She hadn't slept for shit the night before, either, not since she'd gotten the phone call. She'd never really had a family, but Ingrid had been as close as she got ... she quickly pushed the thoughts away. She didn't need to dwell on it right now, not when she had piles of cases to do research for.

And Ruby's chirping voice over the intercom wasn't really helping matters.

Emma pressed the button on her phone. "What is it?" she asked the receptionist warily. No one ever sent her anything - especially not at work. It was probably more case files. She'd probably have to work this weekend again. Fantastic.

"Delivery for you at reception," Ruby repeated, slower now, and Emma could hear her grinning, and she hated that even more. She never knew if the receptionist was friend or foe, honestly, but maybe that had more to do with the fact that she felt that way about everyone, pretty much.

Grumbling to herself irritably, she pushed her chair back from her desk and stood up, smoothing out her blue silk blouse and straightening her pencil skirt - she really hated the dress code in this place, too, she would much rather be in jeans. She made her way out of the office she shared with the other legal assistants and headed for the elevator, punching the button for the lobby, a scowl marring her features at the interruption.

As soon as the elevator swished open to the ground floor, Emma's scowl turned to confusion. She didn't see any delivery guys, no packages. She swore she was going to wring Ruby's neck if this was some kind of stupid prank. Her eyes were drawn to the reception desk then, where she saw a breathtakingly beautiful floral display - orchids, if she wasn't mistaken, potted in what looked to be a hand-hewn sort of crate.

"Emma Swan?"

She blinked at the guy - man - who appeared from behind the tall blooms then. He was as striking as the flowers, truth be told - maybe even more so. He had dark hair and about a day's worth of stubble along his jawline, and the bluest eyes she'd ever seen.

"Are you ... Emma Swan?" he asked again, and she realized she'd been staring. She felt her cheeks going red as she noted the way he quirked his brow at her, an amused sort of half-smirk tugging one corner of his lips upward, making him even more attractive than he had been a second ago.

"Yeah, sorry, I'm ... Emma," she said, shaking her head and looking down, hoping to break the reverie she'd found herself in.

"These are for you," he said, handing her the clipboard he held so she could sign her name. The flowers? Who the fuck was sending her flowers? And expensive, beautiful ones at that? She hadn't told anyone about Ingrid, she'd only just found out last night - they couldn't be condolences or anything. Her brow furrowed in confusion as she signed her name and handed the clipboard back to the man.

"Who are they from?" she asked, looking for a card somewhere in the arrangement, and finding only the florist's card, nothing else.

"If you put some aspirin in the soil, the flowers will live longer," he said, seemingly avoiding her question outright, and she almost forgot to care, the lilting accent of his voice was a little mesmerizing. "Sounds strange, I know, but it works." He glanced back at her then, and she thought she could sense the faintest twinge of sadness there in his gaze.

"Thanks ... " Emma said, a little absently as she looked at the flowers, still trying to locate some sort of indication of who they were from and more than a little confused by the whole thing. "Can you tell me where they came from?" She looked up, but the man was gone. "What the fuck?" she muttered under her breath.

"Who are they from?"

Emma gave a shout of surprise, all but jumping about a mile into the air at Ruby's voice behind her. She turned to face the brunette receptionist, blowing out a breath. "I don't know," she said, a little sullenly. "There's no card."

"Well, whoever it was has great taste. These are gorgeous."

Emma couldn't really deny that, but it didn't change the fact that not knowing who had been so generous - and why - was going to drive her insane. She gingerly picked up the crate the flowers were in and carried it back to the elevator, and into the office. She was glad the others who shared the space were either out for the day or busy on other assignments, because she didn't really want to deal with a billion questions right now.

She dialed Elsa first, reaching her best friend's voice mail. "Did you or Anna send me flowers?" she asked without preamble, cutting the message off at that and setting her phone back down on her desk. She checked again for a card, in case she'd overlooked it the first five times.

Her fingers brushed over the delicate white petals as she tried to figure out who in their right mind would send these to her. She didn't have many friends, and she hadn't dated anyone seriously in well over five years now.

The only person who would have ever sent her flowers like these was Ingrid. But Ingrid was gone now. She was on the verge of crying again - the way she'd spent all last night, once she'd gotten the call - when her phone rang, and Elsa's smiling face showed up on her screen.

Emma had barely gotten a chance to answer when Elsa started in. "Someone sent you flowers?" she practically screeched, and in that moment, Emma swore her best friend sounded more like Anna than should be allowed. God knew, the world didn't need two. "I swear it wasn't me, and I really don't think it was Anna."

"I doubt it was Anna," Emma said with a sigh, looking back at the flowers. "These look ... pretty pricey, and I would kick her ass if she was spending money like this on me. She's got a wedding to prepare for."

"What kind?" Elsa asked as if she hadn't heard a word Emma had just said, and Emma rolled her eyes. Of course, instead of helping her solve this mystery, her friend just wanted the details.

"I don't know," Emma said a little helplessly. "Orchids or something. They're beautiful, I just ... "

"Look. It's almost five. Meet me and Anna at Charlie's in half an hour, okay? And Emma, stop freaking out. They're flowers. They're supposed to make you happy."

Charlie's was the bar just down the street from where Emma worked. She and the Arendelle sisters had spent many a happy hour there over the past few years. "Fine," Emma said resignedly, knowing there was no point arguing. If she said no, Elsa would just make Anna call her, and Anna would end up showing up here and dragging her out, kicking and screaming.

Almost 30 minutes later exactly, Emma was walking through the door of Charlie's, holding her crate of misbegotten orchids and a querulous expression on her face. Anna stood up from the table she and Elsa were sitting at, waving at Emma frantically, and Emma made her way toward the back. Luckily it was the middle of the week and the bar wasn't all that crowded at this hour.

"Are those them?" Anna asked, her blue-green eyes wide and shining as she reached to take the flowers from Emma. "These are beautiful. Orchids would be nice for the wedding, wouldn't they?"

"Orchids are expensive," Elsa pointed out, "I thought you wanted simple."

Emma would have been more than happy to listen to the sisters talk about Anna's wedding plans, if it meant the focus stayed off of her. She really should have known better.

Anna waved her hand dismissively. "It doesn't matter right now," she said with an easy shrug. "The wedding's not for months." She looked back at the flowers, then at Emma, grinning impishly. "Someone sent you flowers."

"Excellent deduction, brain trust," Elsa said dryly, smiling at her sister affectionately.

"No," Anna said, rolling her eyes heavenward. "I mean ... someone. It wasn't you or me - like I could afford those anyway - and you haven't dated in like forever, unless you're not telling us something, in which case ... "

Emma just shook her head. "Definitely not dating anyone," she said with wry smile, cutting off Anna's ramblings.

"Yet," Anna said pointedly. "Emma. Someone likes you."

"Oh, come on," Emma said, giving Anna an incredulous look. "Nobody likes me, Anna, that's ridiculous. I don't know anyone."

"Well who's fault is that?" Elsa asked, interjecting then. "It isn't like we haven't tried setting you up ... "

"I don't want to be set up," Emma said, shaking her head firmly. "I hate the idea of blind dates and I just ... " She made a face, grateful for the interruption when a waitress came by to take their drink orders. "It has to be some mistake," she said once the waitress was gone again.

"You signed for them didn't you?" Elsa asked her. "I don't think it's a mistake, Emma. Someone wanted you to have these. Maybe Anna's right. You never know when you might make an impression on someone."

"They keep records of these things, don't they? At the florist's, I mean. Maybe I should go talk to the owner. Surely they can tell me who sent them." She decided to leave out the part about the hella attractive delivery guy. She didn't need the sisters Arendelle scheming about her love life again.

"Or you could just let this play itself out," Anna said, giving her a serious look then, resting her chin in her hand and leaning forward on the table. "If someone likes you, sooner or later, they'll reveal themselves." Anna had that dreamy, faraway look in her eyes, and Emma could just tell she was envisioning some sort of double wedding scenario.

God save her from the hopeless romantics of the world.

Elsa laughed then, shaking her head. "We both know that that isn't going to happen. Emma can't stand surprises and this will eat her alive until she figures it out." She flicked the card from the little holder among the flowers. "The address isn't far from your place, actually," she said, reading the stock florist card. "It's actually on the corner of your street."

Emma's brow furrowed as she took the card from her friend. Jones Floral and Arrangements. She'd passed that shop thousands of times, never really thinking anything about it. "Maybe I'll stop by on my way home. It says they're open til nine."

"I still think it would be better to wait and see," Anna said, smiling her thanks at the waitress when she brought their drinks out to them.

"Wait and see has never done me much good," Emma muttered glumly, looking down into her glass with a sigh.

It was a little after seven when she left Charlie's, and she was feeling a little bit emboldened from the few drinks she'd had. Luckily they'd dropped the subject of her would-be secret admirer and focused on Anna's wedding talk, which was fine with her.

But now that it was just her again - she was bound and determined to figure out who had sent her these infernal flowers. With a new sense of purpose, she pushed open the door of the florist, the little bell chiming to herald her arrival. She took a deep breath, the scent of greenery and flowers filling her nose. The roses, in particular, brought on a wave of wistfulness. Ingrid had always kept roses in a vase, in her foyer ...

"May I help yo - "

The man who'd delivered the orchids to her earlier had come out of the back room when he'd heard the bell, and again, Emma found herself more than a little unprepared for the sight of him. He was even taller than she remembered from earlier, dressed in a flannel shirt with the sleeves pushed back. She could see a tattoo on his forearm, though she couldn't make it out from this distance. He seemed just as surprised to see her there.

She was staring again.

"Is there a problem with the flowers, lass?" he asked, nodding his head at them. She thought he looked tired. But then, she didn't really know him, so who was she to say?

"Yes," Emma said, then shook her head. "I mean, no, they're ... beautiful, it's just that ... there was no card."

"Swan, right?" he said with a faint smile on his lips. She was a little impressed that he remembered - he probably made dozens of deliveries a day. She nodded. "I wish that I could answer your question, love," he said, holding his hands out apologetically in front of him. "It just seemed ... very important that it be a secret."

Emma's brow creased at that. "I don't really care for secrets," she said. "May I speak to your boss?"

He seemed amused by that, a low, rumbling chuckle rising from his throat. "Afraid that's not possible tonight," he told her, and she got the distinct feeling that there was a lot he wasn't saying.

She was getting annoyed now. More annoyed. She set the orchids down on the table nearest her, blowing out an exasperated breath. "Great. Look, I just want to know who sent the damn flowers."

He stepped forward then, his eyes searching as they regarded her - she felt like he was staring into her soul with those beautiful blue eyes of his. "You can't just accept that it might have been a random act of kindness?" he said, and his voice was quieter then, enough so that Emma almost wanted to lean in closer to hear him.

"Random acts of kindness don't exist in my world," Emma told him with a frown.

"Well, maybe that's exactly why you need to accept this one." There was an edge to his voice then, and Emma's brows went up, a little shiver racing down her spine. There was a darker aura to this man, one that suggested his past hadn't been a bed of roses either. (Pun intended.) "You know not everyone's out to hurt you, love. Not everyone has some ulterior motive."

That took her aback. The way he said it, so matter-of-factly, as if he saw exactly what she feared and had put words to it. It was uncanny, it was a little bit scary - her heart was racing as she looked at him. When their eyes met, for about a half-second, she swore she saw something in his that mirrored hers perfectly. She opened her mouth to ask him how he could possibly know about any of that, but promptly shut it once again.

"What's it to you whether I want to accept these or not?" she shook her head, reaching for her flowers once again. "I'll be back tomorrow, maybe your boss will be available then." She turned on her heel and all but stomped out of the shop. She had half a mind to throw the damn things in the receptacle on the corner of the street, but something stopped her.

When she glanced back over her shoulder, she could see him, just inside the window, watching her walk away.

Like the night before, Emma found it difficult to sleep once again. Her mind was full, her heart heavy, reeling from loss and aching with confusion over today's turn of events. And every time she closed her eyes, trying to will herself to sleep, she saw blue eyes looking back at her.

There was no reason he should be effecting her the way that he was. He was nobody - he was nothing. And yet the things he'd said had gotten under her skin, and she couldn't help it, she was curious about him, about what led him to the life he had, about why he seemed to know her, just by looking into her eyes.

Morning came before she was ready to greet it, and with it, it brought that promised blast of winter weather. There was a light dusting of snow on her windowpanes when she flipped on her coffeemaker, padding barefoot through her apartment, still bleary and groggy from lack of sleep. She wanted to get an early start today, because she was going to find out who sent the flowers, if it fucking killed her.

The knock on her door surprised her. It was just after seven a.m., nobody she associated with was ever up this early. Fearing something was wrong with Elsa or Anna, her heart was in her throat when she answered it. She didn't think she could take it if something had happened to one of them. They were all she had left now.

Her fear turned to annoyance and anger when she opened the door to see him standing there. He had the good sense to look awkward and uncomfortable at the very least. "Are you stalking me now?" She put one hand up, the other on the door, poised to slam it in his face.

He scratched the back of his neck and damn it all, if it wasn't endearing as fuck. "Don't ... just hear me out."

Emma's mouth was a thin line, and even though logic stated that she ought to be slamming the door and calling the cops, her emotions made her pause. "What the hell are you doing here, then?" she asked him, brows raised expectantly, silently saying This better be good.

"I don't normally do this, love, so treasure it," he said with a quick grin in her direction, and Emma tilted her head to the side, clearly nonplussed by his attempt to be charming. If that's what he was doing. "I came to apologize. I thought ... well, it doesn't matter what I thought now." He sighed heavily, pushing a hand through his hair, before he went on to say the very last thing Emma expected.

"I sent you the flowers. And if you'll give me a chance, I'll explain why."