Here's the first part of a two shot that I've been working on for several months now. I'd love to hear your thoughts on this so far!

There's an old quote that says something along the lines of "absence makes the heart grow fonder." That you don't realize just how much you love someone until they're no longer around.

When Emma would come across phrases like that a few years ago, she would typically roll her eyes and mutter some kind of sarcastic remark, all while trying not to dwell on the fact that there probably would never be someone for her to love like that.

But of course, that was before she met Killian. And everything changed.

They meet on a Thursday night, under unusual circumstances. Emma had moved into her new apartment that afternoon, a simple one bedroom in Boston that was more than enough space for her and the small amount of items in her possession. The whole day had been a disaster from the get go. First thing that morning, her previous landlord accused her of not paying the last month's rent, and threatened to sue if he didn't get it immediately. (The look on his face when he realize he was in the wrong was priceless. And he wondered why she was moving out of his crappy building.) Then, the movers she could barely afford to hire wound up taking her furniture to the wrong apartment complex on the other side of Boston. By the time the fiasco had been taken care of, it was nearly the end of the day. Saying she was exhausted was an understatement.

Emma stands in the middle of the living room, observing the chaos that was now her new home. She may have brought a small number of things with her, but most of said things were still in boxes, scattered around on the floor and waiting to be put away. She'd unpacked a box of clothes solely to dig out her favorite Batman pajamas, leaving the rest piled up in the corner of her bedroom. Just something else that could wait until tomorrow when she wasn't both starving and sleep deprived.

Her phone chimed with a new message, letting her know the Chinese takeout she ordered earlier had finally arrived downstairs. She's beyond ecstatic when her cartons of lo mein and egg rolls are opened and laid out on the coffee table ten minutes later, just waiting to be eaten.

Of course, it would be then that the bulb inside the fixture that lights both the small kitchen and living room space decides to burn out, leaving her in the dark before she's even had a chance to take a bite of her food.

Damn. Unless she was willing to sit there and eat using the light from her cell phone- and she'd rather not make a huge mess her first night in the apartment- her only option is borrowing a light bulb from one of her new neighbors. People in movies went next door for sugar all the time, didn't they? Asking for a light bulb wasn't that weird.

(Okay, maybe it was, especially when she's yet to meet anyone else in the building. But she was too hungry to care at this point, and too exhausted to make a trip to the store down the block.)

She knew someone was at home in the apartment next to hers- she could hear "Simple Man" being played on guitar when she brought her food upstairs. Emma just hoped the guitarist next door was generous with household supplies, and wouldn't be put off by her odd request.

Five minutes later, after using the dim light from her phone to find the door (and tripping twice over boxes she couldn't see), she's standing in front of said guitarist's door, the melody of another familiar rock song they're playing catching her attention-; whoever this is clearly isn't lacking where talent is concerned. She raps her knuckles on the door twice, hoping she can be heard over the song. After a moment, the music stops, and she hears footsteps coming in her direction.

Emma quickly realizes how ridiculous she must look and then regrets being too lazy to go buy her own stupid light bulb. She's wearing threadbare pajamas, her blonde hair tied in a messy knot on the top of her head, and glasses that she hopes do something to distract from the bags under her eyes. Hopefully she can borrow and then rebuy them a light bulb as soon as possible so she won't have to spend more time than necessary with her new neighbor since she doubts any of this will make a good first impression.

The door opens, and she opens her mouth to speak until the face on the other side catches her off guard. The first thing she notices are his eyes- big and bright blue, seeming to contrast yet still fit perfectly with his head of messy, dark hair and the scruff covering his cheeks. "Can I help you, lass?"

He's English. Of course.

(She was always a sucker for men with accents.)

"Um, yeah. I just moved in next door and I was about to eat dinner when the light in my apartment burnt out and I don't have an extra bulb and I'm too tired to go buy another one so…" Emma could feel her face turning bright red with embarrassment. "Sorry. I'm Emma Swan. I just wanted to ask if you had a light bulb I could use, then I'll stop babbling about my problems and leave you alone."

He laughs as Emma tries not to think about the fact that he's got a damn near perfect smile. "Killian Jones. I believe I can spare something for you. It wouldn't be very neighborly of me to leave you in the dark on your first night in the building, would it?"

At least he has a sense of humor. Most of her previous neighbors would have given her a dirty look before shutting the door in her face. He gestures for her to come in and she does, casually glancing around at the space that's identical to hers. Well, identical in layout, anyway. The walkway at the door leads into the living room that's connected to the kitchen to the right, with the bedroom and bathroom at the back of the apartment. But that's where any similarities end. While her place will probably remain bare of many personal touches, as all her homes have been, Emma's able to get a good impression of what kind of person Killian Jones is just by standing in his living room. The acoustic guitar she heard being played earlier is resting against a leather couch, which faces a simple wooden coffee table along with a flat screen that's mounted to the wall. The additional five guitars and posters from various rock bands- he's got everything from The Beatles, Pearl Jam, and Staind- hanging on the other side of the room confirm her original assumption that he must be a musician. He certainly looks the part from what she can tell: faded jeans, unkempt hair, along with clusters of various tattoos that wrap around both of his arms.

"This what you need, love?" Killian asks, breaking her train of thought as he holds up a light bulb that he's just pulled from a drawer in his kitchen.

"You just might be my savior," she laughs when he hands it to her; she's never been more grateful to see a light bulb in her life. "Otherwise I'd be eating Chinese in the dark."

He reaches up to scratch a spot behind his ear almost as if he's nervous as he makes another comment about being neighborly. It's then that she can't help but be aware of just how good looking he really is with his dark hair and piercing eyes. The thin fabric of his t-shirt does little to conceal the taut muscles underneath, and she has to force herself not to stare.

"Aye, we wouldn't want that. Might get a bet messy, especially being your new place and all."

It's then that she becomes aware of how long it's been since she's been alone with a guy, even on friendly terms. The thought makes her remember a warm smile and brown eyes she once trusted, would have done anything for. It makes her remember why she hasn't even considered going on a date in months, why she dismisses everyone Elsa and Mary Margaret attempt to set her up with. And why she needs to get out of Killian's apartment immediately; no matter how good looking and polite he may be, she can't risk putting herself in a position with someone that had even the slightest chance of being more than just a neighbor.

"Well, um, thanks for this," she says, awkwardly holding up the light bulb as she turns to the door. "I'll buy you another one and have it here asap."

"Not a problem, lass. Let me know if you need a hand with anything in your apartment. You know where I live."

"Sure, I'll keep that in mind."

No, she won't. Emma somehow manages to get the bulb back in place without injuring herself and spends the rest of the night trying (and not succeeding) to forget about Killian Jones.

And that's how it begins. She's too busy settling in her apartment and chasing her latest skip all over Boston to spend much time thinking about attractive, talented neighbors with beautiful accents. But she can't help but smile to herself and hum along when she hears him playing his guitar almost every night when she comes home.

-/-

Emma's been in the building just over a week when he shows up at her door the next Sunday night. She's annoyed at first when she hears the knock; the newest season of Game of Thrones was about to start, and she's not about to miss a single minute. There's always the option of ignoring whoever's there and pretending she's not at home. But of course, her conscience wins out. Groaning, she abandons her comfortable spot on the couch and trudges over to the door, already prepared to tell her visitor that she's busy and can't help unless they're dying..

She's surprised to open the door and find Killian standing in front of her, nervously thumbing a silver ring that hangs on a chain around his neck. "Hello, Swan," he starts before she can open her mouth. "I hate to bother you, and I realize this is quite a long shot, but are you by any possible chance planning to watch Game of Thrones tonight?"

If it was any other show, she would be convinced he'd been spying on her or had some kind of weird sci-fi telepathy. "Um, yeah," she answers, "I was actually about to do just that."

He breathes a sigh of relief and smiles. "Oh, thank goodness. Look, I don't want to annoy you, but is there any way I could borrow a seat on your couch for the next hour? It was my arse of a brother's turn to pay the bill for our HBO account this month but he forgot, and it's going to drive me up the wall if I have to wait to find out what happens. You won't even know I'm here. And I brought refreshments," he adds, holding up the large bag of popcorn in his hand.

If it had been anyone else, she wouldn't have thought twice before saying no. But he'd done her a favor just a week ago. And he clearly wasn't lying about wanting to see the season premiere. Considering the way the last one ended, she can't exactly say she blames him. Surely letting him watch it with her wouldn't do any harm, as long as he stayed focused on the show. (At least that's what she told herself.)

"Mi casa es tu casa...er, whatever." She steps aside and gestures for him to come in. "You get the point."

"You're my hero, Swan," he declares, following her into the living room.

Emma snickers. "I wouldn't go that far. Just your average TV junkie."

True to his word, Killian made no effort to bother her, and didn't say a word aside from a few mumbled "bloody hell"s when the newest plot twists were revealed (and there were quite a few). Of course the added popcorn didn't hurt, either.

She feels her eyes getting heavy as the episode ends. It's barely ten o'clock, but she spent most of the day busy with a stakeout and it's obviously taking it's toll on her.

Killian must notice her all but nodding off since he says, "I suppose I should get going so you can get some sleep."

"I'm not that ti-" she protests, but the yawn she can't conceal gives her away.

He chuckles and gets up from his spot on the couch. "Quite alright, Swan. I certainly don't want to overstay my welcome."

"So," she questions as she trails behind him to the door, "how were you lucky enough to end up with a neighbor who planned to watch the same show as you tonight?"

He shrugs and runs a hand through his already unruly hair. "No idea, lass. I was in a bit of a bind, and figured it wouldn't hurt to see what the odds were."

"Yeah, well, I'll be doing this again at the same time next Sunday if you want to come back." The words are out of her mouth before she can stop them. Last week, she didn't want to be more than his neighbor, and now she's inviting him back into her home. But she thinks about how polite he's been, how he spent almost an hour on her couch not concerned about doing anything but watching TV...unlike Walsh, who tried to grope her in the movie theater on their first date. (He went home that night with a black eye.)

"As long as you're sure I won't be intruding, love."

He smiles when she says, "Not at all."

Emma can't exactly say she's surprised (or unhappy) when he shows up at her door the same time the next week. And every Sunday for the next month and a half. They don't say much while they watch TV, usually too engrossed in what's happening on screen to give it much thought. But before she knows it, the season comes to an end, finishing on a cliffhanger that neither of them saw coming. She can't help but be a bit disappointed when he goes to leave that night; it's been kind of nice having him around for company over the past few weeks.

"I tend to watch a lot of Netflix," she tells Killian as she follows him to the door, "so if your brother ever forgets to pay that bill, you're more than welcome to join me in whatever I'm currently binge watching."

He wants to agree, she can tell my the way his eyes light up just a bit at her suggestion. But he hesitates, waiting to make sure she's serious first, that she's actually comfortable with having him in her apartment more often than just for an hour on Sunday nights. "I might do just that sometime," he tells her, smiling.

They somehow develop a casual friendship of sorts over the following weeks. Emma doesn't know if it's because he's right next door, or if it's just refreshing to have a guy in her life that doesn't expect anything from her, but she's grateful for it all the same. For awhile, it's nothing but sitting in front of their TV's for a few hours whenever the chance arises. They begin making their way through all six seasons of Lost one weekend out of pure boredom when they've caught up on the rest of their shows. She hasn't seen an episode since the series ended, and Killian's never watched it before. He becomes quite invested in the plot, while also constantly pointing out characters that remind him of other tenants in their building that she's yet to come across. (She gets the idea that he's warning her to avoid the redhead on the fifth floor at all costs.)

And for some reason, she's not so scared of his presence in her life anymore. At all.

-/-

They don't mean to become each other's best friends, it just...happened.

It's not just popcorn and Netflix nights anymore. It's going to his Friday night gigs at the bar he both works and plays guitar at, having pointless conversations via text message in the middle of the night, pancakes at Granny's Diner every Tuesday, sharing beers when it's been a particularly bad day, and learning almost everything there is to know about each other.

Emma quickly realizes that music isn't just a hobby to Killian, like she'd presumed the night they met, it's his entire life. Going to just one of his shows at the bar is enough to show her just how comfortable his is on stage with a guitar in his hands. He's been playing since junior high when he began to idolize artists like Bruce Springsteen and Eddie Veder, much to his mother's dismay. And he's good. She's not biased because he's her friend; he's one of the most talented people she's ever met. He's the type of musician that deserves popularity and tons of adoring fans, and she tells him so as he laughs at her, even though she knows he would love nothing more. He pretends to be content with his job at the bar and the occasional gigs that come with it, but she can see beneath the facade he puts on. He obviously wants nothing more than to do music full time, in spite of the fact that he thinks his odds of being successful are slim.

She learns how his father left before he was old enough to know him, and how his mother moved him and his brother to the States for a new start before she died from cancer several years later. He mentions Liam in passing every now and then, who's just been promoted to senior partner at his law office in London. Killian may not say it aloud, but she can tell he misses him quite a bit.

He finds out the details of her unconventional upbringing and lack of family, which helps him understand the lack of personal items in her apartment months after she's moved in. Emma even spills her guts about Neal after a few too many drinks one Friday night at his apartment. She woke up the next morning in his bed while he slept on the couch, a glass of water and aspirin on the nightstand waiting to help combat the worst hangover she'd ever had. He made her pancakes and bacon the next morning without mentioning anything she may have said or done the night before, while she sat at his kitchen table and wondered how in the world she deserved to have him in her life.

He's lost love, too, thanks to a drunk driver who took away the woman that meant everything to him. She finds out what happened when he breaks down on the anniversary of her death, and hopes he never again has to endure that kind of pain. Neither one of them mention that night again after it happens, but she gets the impression that he's just as grateful for their friendship as she is.

Emma's not even fully aware of how close the two of them have actually become until her other friends point it out to her. It's girls night at Elsa's, one of their regular get togethers that usually involves copious amounts of junk food, sangria, and life updates around the coffee table. "You guys need to see the new Pirates of the Caribbean movie," she tells her girl friends through a mouthful of Ben and Jerry's. "Killian and I saw it after work a few days ago, and he already wants to go back and watch it again this weekend." She stops digging into her pint of Rocky Road when she notices the look Mary Margaret and Elsa exchange. "What?"

"You and Killian are getting pretty close, aren't you?" Mary Margaret asks, raising an eyebrow.

She just shrugs. "I guess. Why, what makes you ask?"

"Emma, you've mentioned him at least a dozen times within the past hour," Elsa notes. "I've only met the man once, and I feel like I somehow know everything about him just from hearing you talk."

Does she really talk about him that often? "He's a friend...we just hang out a lot since he's right next door."

"Just a friend?" Mary Margaret looks skeptical. (Emma loves her, she really does, but the woman is far too obsessed with playing matchmaker among her single friends.)

"Yes, Mary Margaret. Just a friend. Don't expect that to ever change." Despite her close relationships with the two women around her, it's been awhile- years, actually- since she's had a friend like Killian that she felt she could tell just about anything to without worrying about his reaction or how he could use it as leverage to hurt her later on.

Emma can tell from the look on Mary Margaret's face that she desperately wants to make a comment about how the best relationships can develop from friendships, or something else she probably learned from the latest issue of Cosmo. She fights the urge to kiss Elsa when the blonde changes the topic of conversation, and Killian isn't mentioned again that night.

-/-

She'll never forget the night she convinced him to play Justin Bieber's "Sorry" just because she knew Killian couldn't stand him, or any other mainstream pop artist for that matter. But he actually made it sound less than terrible, which shouldn't have been a surprise considering just how skilled he was with an instrument in his hands. Of course, he made it up to Emma by serenading her with several of her least favorite songs for a solid week. (It took days to get both "Shake It Off" and "Moves Like Jagger" out of her head.)

At one point he sets out on a mission to improve her taste in music. She listens to a little bit of everything (besides country, she can't stand any of it), but he's convinced as a prominent member of his life that she needs to be familiar with more bands than just The Rolling Stones and Nirvana. ("Of course they're great artists, Swan, but that barely scratches the surface of rock music.") He steals her phone long enough to add several new stations to her Pandora app, and goes as far as to make her a mix CD for her Bug, which isn't exactly up to date with a fancy stereo or a USB port. Slowly, but surely, his efforts begin to rub off on her. She runs to "Back In Black" almost every morning, listens to "Ain't No Rest for the Wicked" during late-night stakeouts, and even catches herself singing "Friday I'm In Love" in the shower. She hears Killian laughing at her through the thin walls after an unusually enthusiastic performance, and insists it was all his fault for getting her hooked on The Cure in the first place.

She's the one who encourages Killian to put his music out, somewhere besides the bar. Although he's not yet thirty, he's convinced that his chance has probably come and gone somewhere along the way thanks to the media's constant obsession with younger artists. Emma rolls her eyes, tells him he's being ridiculous, and refuses to get off of his back about it until he at least tries to snag a few gigs and auditions outside of his regular ones at The Rabbit Hole. ("You'll thank me one day," she promises.)

Of course, she never expected that day would come quite so soon. She hears him mention over their regular breakfast at Granny's the next week that he has an audition to be considered as a musician for an up-and-coming rock band whose guitarist quit in order to spend more time with his family, leaving them with an available spot just weeks before their next tour is set to begin. She smiles and tells him he's a shoo in, that they would be crazy not to pick him over everyone else in Boston.

Their friendship as she's always known it completely changes just days later. She's dragging herself down the hall to her apartment, thanks to a particularly exhausting day chasing her newest perp when his door flies open and he quickly runs over to her.

"Swan! I got it!" It takes her a moment to realize what he's talking about, her current state of mind affecting her more than she realized. Before she can react, he's wrapped her in a hug so tight she can barely breathe as he spins them around in the hallway like the massive dork he is. "They picked me to go on the tour!"

"Hold up, you're making me dizzy!" she cries, reaching out for the door frame to hold herself up. "Congratulations, I knew they would! Do you know any details yet?"

The smile on his face has yet to waver. "Just that we leave in about three weeks or so. I have a meeting tomorrow with the rest of the band to finalize everything. Bloody hell, Emma, can you believe I'll be playing in Los Angeles in a few weeks?"

She hopes her shocked expression hides the way his words made her heart sink. "L.A.?"

"Aye." His smile suddenly isn't quite as bright. "I thought I told you the tour was on the west coast. The band's record label just started an office in L.A.; they figured it'd be good publicity to tour there."

Of course he told her all of that. She was just too naive and caught up with other things to really give it much thought...until now. "Right, you did. But, wow, that's awesome! I'm so proud of you." She hugs him a little too hard this time, biting down on her lip to keep from tearing up.

"You really mean that?" he asks, as if it's hard to believe someone would actually be happy for him.

"Of course," she says, the smile on her face dull in comparison to the one he deserves. "You're my best friend." It's the first time she's ever said as much, even though it's probably been obvious for months now.

He was her best friend. And now he's leaving. A few months apart wasn't the end of the world, but it's the possibility of what could very well happen afterwards that scares the hell out of her. For all she knows, he could hit it big on this tour, and as much as he deserves it, she can't help but picture him moving to some fancy mansion in a big city where he'll become a mega star and forget that she even exists. This is why she so rarely allowed herself to get close to people, rarely let the sky high walls she's built come down. Killian Jones has unexpectedly come to mean so much to her within the past year that she's known him. And because of that, she's given him the power to wreck her from the inside out.

"And you're mine," he says, as it's the first time he's given it much thought, too.

There's a long pause between them, as she wonders if his thoughts are anything like the ones currently running through her head. "Breakfast at Granny's tomorrow morning?" she asks, desperate to change the subject.

"Of course, love. Celebratory pancakes are on me."

-/-

Neither one of them mentions his upcoming departure much over the next few weeks, mainly because he's busy meeting and rehearsing with the band, and she refuses to accept the fact that he's leaving until the last possible minute. They still have breakfast together and marathon their usual shows on Netflix as if nothing is about to change. Part of her feels guilty for her selfish attitude about the whole scenario. She couldn't be happier for him, but deep down, she's still scared for herself and what could very well happen to their friendship.

The time that he has left in Boston goes by so quickly that before she knows it, it's time to tell him goodbye. (For now, she tries to remember. Easier said than done.) His tour mates offer to pick him up on their way to the airport, but he asks Emma to take him instead, in what she hopes is a way to spend a few more moments together before he leaves. They leave their apartment complex at five on a Monday morning, the bug's trunk filled to the brim with luggage along with his guitar case. Despite the fact that the band will surely have several high dollar instruments for him to choose from, he's insisted on taking along the acoustic she heard him playing the night they first met.

They spend most of the drive to the airport cracking jokes and making normal conversation, trying to put off the inevitable while they still can. Halfway there, he finds "Bohemian Rhapsody" on the radio and chooses to serenade her, intentionally making it the worst Freddie Mercury impersonation she's ever heard. She wants to laugh and cry all at the same time thinking about just how much she's going to miss him.

She gets to meet his tour mates when they arrive, Killian introducing her as "My best friend, Emma." Robin, August, and Will all seem nice enough, jokingly promising to keep Killian in check while they're gone. She's only able to offer a half-assed laugh in response, still not quite ready to tell him goodbye, or even sure how to, for that matter.

They're sitting on a bench, drinking overpriced coffee from the airport cafe when the boarding call for his flight is announced. The weight that's been building up on Emma's shoulders for weeks feels heavier than ever now as they stand and look at each other, knowing this is it.

"Looks like you've got a plane to catch."

"I guess I do. Swan, I know I should have told you this a long time ago. But, thank you."

"For what?" she asks.

"For, all of this," he smiles. "If it weren't for you, I never would've gotten this opportunity in the first place." He pulls her in for a hug, holding her so tightly that he's the only thing keeping her in one piece.

"Don't be ridiculous." She bites down on her lower lip, hard; there's no way she's going to cry in front of him. "You're the musician here, not me."

"Maybe so, love. But it was thanks to your constant reprimanding that I finally tried to do something with my music, other than playing in that bloody bar once a week. So, thank you."

"Then I guess you're welcome. I now expect to be included in the acknowledgements on your first album."

They still haven't let go of each other yet; she doesn't want to. He laughs at her words, and Emma finds herself grateful that technology will still allow her to hear the sound while he's away.

"I almost forgot. I need to see your phone."

"Why?" she asks, taking the device out of her back pocket and handing it to him. There was no need to tell him her pass code, he'd known it by heart for months now.

"I have something for you." His brow furrows in concentration as he scrolls through something on her phone to find what he's looking for.

"Really? You're the one going away, and I'm getting a gift?"

"Not really a gift, just something I thought was necessary. Ah, here we are," he confirms, giving her phone back. She shouldn't be surprised that the Spotify app is open. What does surprise her is the new playlist he's apparently created within the past few days that she hadn't noticed.

"What's this?" Scrolling through the selection of songs, she recognizes several right off the bat that they've listened to together on occasion, but there are quite a few she's never heard before.

"You didn't think I was going to let my absence cause your music taste to be lead astray, did you? I think I've left enough selections to keep you occupied over the next few months," he laughs, gesturing to her phone.

She notices that he's included well over two hundred songs. There's no telling just how much time he spent on this, considering how picky he tended to be where music was concerned. "You did all this for me?"

"Just consider it a parting gift."

"You know I expect pictures of, like, everything, right?" she reminds him, ignoring the knot quickly building in her throat. "It's been months since I've gone outside of Boston, and I expect you to take full advantage of this opportunity in every way possible."

"Of course, Swan. I'll even send everything to you first, so you don't have to wait to see it on Instagram like everyone else."

"Jones!" The sound of his name makes Killian turn around. "It's time to catch a flight, mate," calls, Robin from where he and the other boys are waiting. The regretful expression on his face makes it seem as if he was sorry to break up their conversation.

"Aye," he replied over his shoulder, turning back to Emma. "I'm afraid I'm not adept when it comes to saying goodbye, love." Was this anywhere near as hard for him as it is her?

"Then don't." She pulls him in for another hug, trying her best to be the supportive friend he deserves. "Go out there and be amazing, just like I know you will. I'll see you in a few months," she promised.

"That you will."

As hard as it is, she makes herself release him. He reaches down to squeeze her hand before turning away to catch up with his new band mates. She stands there alone, in the middle of the airport, and watches him walk away from her until he's finally out of sight.

She's able to make it back to the bug before she sheds a few tears. And if she spends the rest of the day on the couch, numbing her feelings with junk food and Killian's new playlist, well, that's no one's business but her own.

-/-

The first week that he's gone isn't quite as difficult as she expected. She's swamped with new cases at work, and comes home every night too exhausted to do anything but fall straight into bed. They text regularly and he sends her photos from wherever the band is that day, but it feels more like he's away on vacation rather than gone for the next three months.

However, it's only the next week when his absence truly begins to take its toll on her.

The hall is silent every night when she comes home, no chords from "Are You Gonna Be My Girl" or "Yellow Ledbetter" waiting to greet her after work. She can't bring herself to watch much of anything on Netflix; even watching a single episode of one of their regular shows feels wrong without him sprawled out beside her on the couch.

Killian's been meaning to set time aside to Skype ever since he arrived in Los Angeles their first week, but he's stayed busy thanks to rehearsing with the band, the actual shows themselves, and the unexpected amount of publicity he and the boys have been getting recently. Although he hasn't told her so yet, she's gotten the idea that they may consider keeping him in the band even after the tour is over, and he clearly wants to make a good impression on everyone involved. She does her best to be happy for him since he's come so far, not entertaining the thought that life on the road could very well become his new normal.

The first three weeks of the tour take place in California alone, thanks to the record label and a big part of the band's fanbase being based in Los Angeles. Liam is able to fly out for the first show, the first time the two of them have seen each other in months. Killian is clearly thrilled to see his brother- he's grinning from ear to ear in all the pictures she sees of them together, and even the few texts he has time to send her show a shift in his demeanor. He's happy to be back with his only family for a short while, and she's happy for him because of it.

But Emma still misses him terribly. She misses hearing him play his guitar, misses him singing terribly off key just to make her laugh. She misses his laugh, misses having someone next door she can open up to after a bad day. She even finds herself missing the occasional blonde jokes he tosses her way every now and then that he knows annoy her to no end.

Elsa and Mary Margaret waste no time in pointing out the change in her attitude. It's Emma's turn to host girl's night this time, which consists of The Princess Bride and a pizza ordered at the last minute since she completely forgot they had plans until Elsa texted that they were on their way.

Buttercup and Humperdinck haven't even gotten engaged yet when Elsa picks up the remote from Emma's coffee table and pauses the movie. "What's going on, Emma?"

"You tell me. I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't give us that," Mary Margaret chimes in, giving her friend a Look. "This is your favorite movie, and you've barely paid it any attention."

Emma shrugs. "I guess I'm just tired," she lies, forcing a yawn that she hopes doesn't look as fake as it really is.

"I knew it," says Elsa, taking a bite of her slice of pizza. "This is about Killian, isn't it?"

Apparently all her problems seemed to be related to him as far as her friends were concerned. "Why would anything that's wrong with me have to do with him? He's not even around now."

"That's just it," Mary Margaret points out. "He's away, and you've been sulking about it for the past month. You miss him."

"Of course I miss him! He's my best friend, Mary Margaret."

Elsa sighs. "I hate to bug you about it, Em, but I think you stopped viewing him as just a friend a long time ago."

"Hear us out," Mary Margaret stops her before she has a chance to object to Elsa's words. "You two do everything together- and not just because you're neighbors. You understand each other better than anyone else can; I don't even think Elsa and I know you as well as he does now. You went to all his gigs at the bar, even that one a few months ago when we could all tell you were sick, but you insisted on being there for him regardless. He's joined you on stakeouts before, and not because he cared about spending hours cramped in your car; he wanted to spend time with you."

"And let's not forget about the fact that he's only been on two or three dates since you first met, and you were grumpy for days when you found out about all of them." She was expecting Elsa to be on her side this time. Traitor.

"You two are so ridiculously in love with each other...and the craziest part is, neither one of you is willing to admit it," Mary Margaret adds for the icing on the cake.

"Geez, did you two have that prepared?" Sure, some of the things they pointed out were true. Yes, spent a lot of time together (when he was here, anyway). Yes, she made it a point to attend all his gigs, and he'd joined in on one or two of her stakeouts before. And yes, she'd been irritated about his last dates, because none of those women seemed good enough for her best friend. But there was no way that meant…"Neither one of us is in love with the other."

"Are you sure about that?" Elsa, just like Mary Margaret, looks entirely unconvinced.

"Really, guys? I thought I invited you over to hang out, not to nag me about my love life," she snaps, irritated.

The room grows quiet. Emma presses play and resumes the movie in attempt to ease the tension between the three of them. They watch the rest of The Princess Bride in silence, and her friends leave as soon as it's over, with little to say to her. She feels terrible. She shouldn't have snapped at Elsa and Mary Margaret, but they're right about at least one thing: she does miss him, and she's willing to attribute it to the awful mood she's been in. It was clear before he left that this would all be hard, but she also expected more than pictures and brief text conversations once or twice a week. She tries her best not to be angry with him, he's busy and has things to do that she knows are more important than talking to her.

The time difference doesn't offer any additional help. When she goes to her room to get ready for bed, the alarm clock on her nightstand tells her it's almost midnight. The band is Seattle this week, where it's not even nine. Like most nights, she's usually asleep before he's even finished up for the day.

After she'd washed her face, brushed her teeth, and changed into pajamas- the Batman ones she was wearing the night they met- Emma sat in bed under the covers and opened her laptop to double-check the information on where the perp she was looking for would probably be tomorrow when she went out to look for him. She did what she needed to and was about to turn off the computer when the Skype notification popped up in the corner of the screen, with a call request from a number she didn't recognize. Her first thought was to dismiss it; it could very well be someone who'd typed in her information by mistake. But, what were the odds…

It's safe to say the neighbors heard her "Oh my gosh!" when she accepted the call and saw Killian's face looking back at her on the computer screen. She hears him laugh at her reaction. "Hello, Swan. I was hoping I could catch you before bed."

"Yeah, you had great timing." She sat up in bed and adjusted her pajama shirt, trying to look somewhat decent considering her current position. "Killian, as glad as I am to hear from you, how the hell did you find time to call me? I thought it would be a few more hours before you were back from tonight's show."

"Aye. But I came back to the hotel as soon as we finished up. I was determined to speak to you sometime today since I've been a poor excuse of a friend these past few weeks," he says, a hint of regret in his voice.

"Shut up with that. You've been really busy, becoming world famous and all." Despite how much she wants the man to be next door again, she really is proud of him.

"I wouldn't say world famous by any means, love." He laughs nervously, and scratches that one spot behind his ear. God, she's missed thim. "Although, I will admit, there are more fans than I was anticipating."

"Uh huh. I saw an article last week from one of those hipster music magazines that mentioned one of the shows in LA. Everyone in the comments wanted to know who the new hot guy was," she teases him, knowing his face would likely turn three shades of red. (She was right.)

"Alright, alright, enough about my life. What's been going on with you, Swan?"

Emma tells him about her newest cases, about the crappy server the Rabbit Hole has hired in his absence, and about their new neighbor that's just moved in down the hall, an older guy from Wisconsin she's dubbed "Grumpy" in her head thanks to his lousy disposition. She mentions that Elsa and Mary Margaret have asked about him, but doesn't tell him the nature of their questions. There's no need to make this conversation awkward, considering she has no idea when the next one will take place.

She has no idea how long she stays online with him, making up for lost time. But eventually, the long day begins to take its toll on her. It becomes harder to stay awake, despite how much she wants to, and Killian can tell. "I think it's bedtime for you, Swan. Hard to catch criminals when you're half asleep."

"As much as I hate to admit it, I think you're right," she confesses, another yawn escaping her lips. "But I'm really glad you called me. I've missed you."

"Aye, I've missed you, too. Will and August are staying in the room next door, and they aren't quite as tolerant of my singing in the shower as you are."

As hard as it is, she eventually tells him good night, and ends the call with a promise to hear from him again as soon as he's given the time. She's just turned off the lamp on her night stand and curled up under the blankets when she finds herself unable to stop thinking about him and their conversation. He had so much to say to her, and yet all she could focus on just him: those blue eyes she'd never realized were quite that bright, his hair tousled and looking even messier than usual. Those fans weren't exaggerating when asking about the "hot guy" online. (She wasn't blind. He was clearly good-looking, and she couldn't find a single reason to say otherwise. But that meant nothing...didn't it?)

She smiles at how nice it was to finally hear his laugh again, and to watch his face light up when he told her about his experiences on the tour so far. He's finally getting to do what he loves most every day, and he's never been happier. She doesn't doubt that he's also probably getting quite a bit of attention from the band's fanbase; there's no telling what kind of opportunities he'll have access to once the tour wraps up. What could happen afterwards still scares her, even though she still wants whatever is best for him.

If she thought she missed him before, now it's hitting her harder than ever. It's not just his presence she wants back in her life. Before, she thought of the obvious things about him that made his absence hard, like his music, his voice, and his unwavering desire to spend time with her, no matter how difficult she made it. Tonight, she thinks of how he bites his thumb nails when he's concentrating on something, whether that be the show they're watching, or the new song he's trying to learn. He can't sleep without socks on both of his feet, and ninety percent of the time, they never match. He can't bring himself to kill a bug, even the biggest of spiders. (He usually called her to come take care of it instead.) Despite his obvious passion for rock music, he loved musicals, and often sang songs from Wicked and The Book of Mormon while he cooked breakfast or cleaned his apartment.

She considered what Mary Margaret and Elsa had said to her earlier that night, and suddenly finds herself unable to deny any of it. She certainly couldn't speak for him, but her own feelings are coming through loud and clear.

She was in love with Killian Jones.

And she picked a fine time to realize it.

-/-

ES: I think I owe you two an apology.

EA: No need. We should have left you alone about it.

MM: I agree.

Even though it''s true.

EA: Mary Margaret!

MM: Sorry...

ES: Don't be….I think this is the part where you say "I told you so."

EA: Wait, why?

ES: You were right...I think I'm in love with him.

MM: I knew it!

ES: I'm so screwed.

EA: I know it sucks that he's away, but at least you know he probably feels the same.

ES: Don't be silly. Killian doesn't love me... Not like that, anyway.

MM: Emma, are you blind?

EA: I've seen the way he looks at you. No way that's not love.

MM: If Killian's not in love with you, I'm willing to bet David's not in love with me, either.

ES: Okay, now you're serious.