#Step 2 CS Patient Notes

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Season 3 Rewatch Drabbles: 3x22 There's No Place Like Home (Part 4)

Summary:  A series of 100-500 word drabbles to accompany my    rewatch of season 3 of Once Upon a Time.  There will be a drabble–either a deleted scene, a “fix it” fic or a character musing for each episode of the season.  Focus will be on Emma, Henry, the Charmings and Killian–with an emphasis on Captain Swan’s epic love story.

Word Count: 528

Tagging a few people who may be interested (Let me know if you want to be added or taken off the list): @sailormew4 @annaamell @flslp87 @emmateo26 @bethacaciakay 

@ultraluckycatnd @effulgent-mind @ilovemesomekillianjones @brooke-to-broch 

@missgymgirl @galadriel26 @the-lady-of-misthaven @charmingturkeysandwich 

@jennjenn615 @laschatzi @kimmy46 @snowbellewells @iamanneenigma

@daxx04 @nickillian  @gillie  @britishguyslover @ginnyjinxedandhanshotritafirst

@kmomof4 @linda8084 @golfgirld @captain-swan-coffee @searchingwardrobes 

@hollyethecurious @laughswaytoomuch  @allyourdarlingswans  @winterbaby89 @facesiousbutton82 

@therooksshiningknight @lfh1226-linda @tiganasummertree @jrob64  @anmylica 

@booksteaandtoomuchtv @i-will-sing-no-requiem @bluewildcatfanatic @laianely

Other Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Notes: I knew there was no way I could stick to just one drabble an episode for the CS movie, so I didn't even try. There will be 2 drabbles for 3x21 and 4 for 3x22. They are all written, so the plan is to post one per day until they're all posted.

Note 2: You didn't think I could write a series of season 3 drabbles without one about the CS kiss outside of Granny's did you?

She was kissing him, really kissing him.  Killian’s heart swelled, somehow, paradoxically both soaring and settling.  She was kissing him.

He’d never planned to tell her about the deal he’d had to make to get back to her.  He wanted her more than anything in the world, but the last thing he’d wanted was for her to come to him out of a sense of obligation, of owing him for what he’d given up.

He missed his ship, aye, but if it was a choice between the Jolly and Emma, it was no contest.  He’d have given up anything to get back to her.

The kiss went on and on.  It was far gentler and less passionate than the one they’d shared in Neverland, but it was real.  It was not borne merely of lust but of feelings acknowledged without words.  She’d leaned into him not to blow off steam, not in answer to a challenge, not as a thank you.

She’d leaned in to him because she cared for him.  She’d let down her walls and accepted her family and now she’d accepted her feelings for him.  He could feel it in the way her lips and tongue moved against his.

It was overwhelming, the feelings inside so real they nearly brought tears to his eyes.

Later, when he had a chance to reflect on all of it, the elation would come, the joy that would make him want to shout his love to the rooftops, but for now, nothing existed but her and the fact that she was kissing him.

She pulled back for a moment and looked up at him with an almost tentative smile, and the openness in her eyes, the trust, the–dare he say it–love he saw shining back at him through them would have brought him to his knees had he been standing.

He returned her gentle smile before leaning in to close the distance between them once more.  He’d always let her set the pace of this relationship, let her make the first moves.  He’d been hesitant to step forward toward her–not only because he knew he needed to be patient and allow her to lower her walls in her own time, but also because he needed to protect his own heart.  If he moved too quickly and scared her away….

But now, something had changed.  She’d given herself to him–not yet in the carnal sense, of course, but in the emotional sense.  With her kiss, she’d told him she wanted this relationship too; that she was done running, and he could have no more stopped himself from going in for that second kiss than he could have stopped himself from breathing.

She was intoxicating, and it was a high from which he hoped to never come down.  Cupping her head with his hand, letting the silky strands flow through his fingers, he let the kiss go on and on.

No doubt there would be difficulties, set backs, new villains to defeat, but for now, for right now, he felt as though his life was nothing short of perfect, and he’d remain with her in this moment forever if he could.

[usmlestike]

Best USMLE Courses

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The USMLE is a three-step examination designed to evaluate a medical student’s ability to apply medical knowledge, concepts, and principles to patient care. It tests not only theoretical knowledge but also practical skills required for independent medical practice. Below is an overview of the three steps:

Step 1: Focuses on the foundational sciences, such as anatomy, biochemistry, microbiology, pathology, and pharmacology. This step evaluates your understanding of key concepts that form the basis of medical practice.

Step 2:

Clinical Knowledge (CK): Tests your ability to apply medical knowledge in a clinical setting.

Clinical Skills (CS): Assesses your practical and interpersonal skills through simulated patient interactions.

Step 3: The final step evaluates your ability to manage patients independently, testing your competence in real-world medical scenarios.

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The best courses bundle Qbanks, video lectures, mock exams, and study guides into a single package, ensuring comprehensive preparation.

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Here are some popular USMLE prep courses and their standout features:

1. USMLE Strike

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Step 1 is often considered the most challenging part of the USMLE due to its focus on basic sciences. Here’s what an ideal Step 1 course should include:

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Conclusion

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[nirmalatiwari]

NExT 2

The NEXT 2 examination is designed to evaluate the readiness of a recent MBBS graduate to effectively manage and advise patients in real-life scenarios. It is confirmed that NEXT 2 will not be linked to the Medical PG process; rather, it will serve as a licentiate examination enabling individuals to independently practice medicine in India.

It is important to note that the following information is not based on any official announcement by the NMC. While not entirely speculative, there is a high likelihood that the details presented here will align with the actual exam format.

NEXT 2 Exam Pattern: The objective of the NEXT 2 exam suggests that the questions will focus on assessing the clinical skills of newly graduated MBBS professionals. This presents a few potential scenarios.

In the past, the USMLE included a section known as the USMLE Step 2 CS, which evaluated a physician's practical patient management skills. Although USMLE no longer includes this test, the format of questions in NEXT 2 may draw similarities from Step 2 CS.

In this setup, physicians interacted with individuals acting as patients. The doctor conducted an examination, made diagnostic inferences, proposed a treatment plan, and proceeded accordingly. This process was time-intensive, and it wouldn't be surprising if, similar to USMLE, the NEXT 2 exam spans over an 8-hour duration.

Given the challenges posed by the COVID-19 pandemic, real-life patient interactions may be limited. A potential adaptation could involve computer-simulated case studies, where doctors engage with virtual patients to diagnose and treat medical conditions.

[mokshconsultant]

National Exit Test (NEXT)

The National Exit Test NEXT manifests a universally applicable dogma — there can be no compromise with quality standards in the medical profession.

Apparently, corruption was becoming rampant in the 88-year-old Medical Council of India MCI. There seemed to be evidence that the officials were earning illegitimately at various levels in a nexus with political leaders. Also, there was a lack of uniformity in adding new members to the medical fraternity. In short, while the foreign medical graduates had to undergo the MCI Screening Test, the doctors from Indian Medical Universities were exempt.

After much deliberation by the GOI, the National Medical Commission Bill came into force on September 25, 2020. It caused the dissolution of the MCI and the constitution of the National Medical Commission in its place. A very consequential step that the NMC took was the replacement of the MCI Screening Test with the National Exit Test NEXT.

NExT 1

Without a doubt, NEXT 1 will be the competitive entity among NEXT 1 & 2. It shall have two purposes — establishing that the aspirant is ready for internship & concluding whether he/she deserves to get a seat for medical PG. Reiterating, the former will merely need an aspirant to qualify, the latter will see cut-throat competition.

At the outset, we establish that the account given here is mostly based on speculation. However, our experts expect this is how its format will be, with inconsequential variations.

Exam Pattern

NEXT 1 Exam pattern will have to be one with MCQs like the erstwhile MCI Screening Test/FMGE. Also, like the FMGE, NEXT 1 will have questions from the 19 subjects in the MBBS curriculum. This is where the resemblance will end.

To begin with, this exam in 2023 will have questions from the revised version of the competency-based MBBS curriculum. This modified curriculum will generate a different pattern of questions as the core focus areas have shifted. To understand the new topic-wise outcomes, click here. (link to competency-based MBBS curriculum page)

NExT 2

The NEXT 2 exam will assess a fresh MBBS's preparedness to handle and advise patients in reality. For now, we can be sure that the NEXT 2 will have nothing to do with the Medical PG. After clearing, it will essentially be a licentiate exam, which one can start practising medicine in India independently.

The account below is not based on any official announcement of NMC but is not merely a speculation. There is a negligible probability that what we present here will not be.

NEXT 2 exam pattern

The purpose of the NEXT 2 exam indicates that the questions in the exam will test the clinical skills of a fresh MBBS. This generates a couple of possibilities.

There used to be a section in USMLE called the USMLE Step 2 CS that assessed the practical patient-handling skills of a doctor. USMLE no longer has that test; however, the kind of questions Step 2 CS presented to its candidates is one way in which the questions in NEXT 2 may come to you.

Ideally, in such a setup, the doctor interacted with a real person who posed as a patient. The doctor examined the patient, noted his/her inferences, suggested a line of treatment and moved on. This pattern is time-consuming, and it shouldn’t surprise if, like USMLE, the NEXT 2 also spans over 8 hours.

With the manifestation of COVID-19, people are understandably cautious, and interaction with real patients may not be feasible. An option with some probability of adaptation is a computer-simulated case study where a doctor meets a virtual patient and treats him/her.

To know more about MOKSH NEXT Online Coaching.

[usmlestep2cs]

Step 2 CS Study Material, Step 2 CS Online Tutorial, Step 2 CS Book, USMLE Step 2 CS Videos

[queenwinry]

idk why i always contemplate my career choices before every major medical school exam but here we are yet again 

[fa-by]

Hi, Faby I'm finally free of homework. I loved your theory on all these years. I laughed at the memes. many CS say we have a version of Camila with all these years, but we don't have a similar version of Lauren but at the time that Camila and Lauren weren't together (after Camila left the group) Lauren kept thinking about Camila because she kept writing songs based on her relationship with Camila like all night. Can you make a song analysis of all night?

Hello to you, dear @camilalauren0327 👋🏼😄 I'm glad you're free from your homework 💪🏼 I'm also glad that you loved my interpretation and that you laughed at the GIFs.

So. About All Night, I can tell you it's track n° 11 of Steve Aoki's Neon Future IIIalbum. Both Laur and Steve loved the time spent together in the studio, and Steve totally loved working with her: “She’s got so many ideas and the problem is, they’re all good. She’s very meticulous. The attention to detail Lauren has is something I don’t find in many people. She’s very attentive to the detail. She’s got those ears, she’s got the sensibility and the vision, and I’m just totally inspired to be in the studio with her”.

As for the lyrics, were already there, but Laur rewrote them and wrote the bridge from scratch. Vocally speaking, she did all the backgrounds and vocally self-produced. So the vocal production? It's hers. It was her. Yeah. She's thattalented, and people still sleep on her. But anyway. Let's move on to my interpretation now, shall we?

Verse 1:

“My heart beats a little faster

When our eyes meet, in the middle of a crowded room”

Typical reaction of when we meet someone we like. You know? Heart beating fast as Laur says, along with butterflies in the stomach, cheeks blushing, palms sweating, adrenaline, dry mouth, palpitations, hot flashes, etc., etc.

“In knee deep, testing waters”

What does ‘in knee deep’ make us understand? That it wasn't an ordinary person that she just liked, but that it was a person that she really liked very much. *cough Mila*

“I've got a feeling, and I don't know what to do”

Why? Because she knew it was different and contrary to the past, she didn't know how to act.

Chorus:

“You got me paralyzed, and I think I like it”

As I think you know, ‘paralyzed’ in this case is intended as being blocked by a strong emotion (such as amazement). Mila got her paralyzed. Their situation and feelings were so strong, so deep/in knee-deep, that Laur was petrified by it. But despite this, as I said before, this was different. Unlike anything she'd ever felt before. And she liked it.

“Caught me by surprise, I'm not usually like this, no”

It caught her by surprise because she didn't expect it. And we know why she wasn't usually like that. Because she'd been in denial all her life. Because she'd always fought against these feelings.

“Got me paralyzed, don't think I can help it”

She couldn't. Even if she tried, she couldn't. She couldn't help herself.

“Why's it feel so right?”

Why did what she was taught to be wrong made her feel so good/right? Because it was. It was in general, but it was even more so with her. With Mila.

Post-Chorus:

“Let's keep this going all night

Going all night

Going all night

Going all night”

Freedom. Without thinking of tomorrow. Tomorrow's tomorrow.

Verse 2:

“The crowd fades, tunnel vision

In a daze, and the only thing I feel is you”

Because she was the only important thing. The only thing that mattered. All the rest? They were just surroundings.

“In perfect, syncopation”

Syncopation can be a rhythm, a passage, or a dance step. Syncopation in music occurs when a rhythm is unexpected and is played off-beat. It's like, an oscillation in a soft and not stiff way. It's an imbalance and prolongation of a note in the middle that creates an effect of, precisely, oscillation. Flamenco is the simplest first example that comes to mind for both musical rhythm and danced rhythm, but syncopation is used in many music styles. From the classical music of Mozart and Beethoven, to the ragtime ancestor of jazz, jazz itself, rock, metal, reggae, hip-hop, pop, house, salsa, etc.

To give you a practical example to help you understand better, count 5, 6, 7, 8 out loud three times in a row. From the fourth time, keep counting out loud and, at the same time, use the palm of your hand or the clenched fist on a surface to hear the rhythm yourself and understand how stable it is. Do this three times or even more until it’s natural for you to keep up the pace without having to keep counting 5, 6, 7, 8 out loud. Once you've done that, keep counting mentally and hit/tap 5 a little bit harder with a little pause, and then just 7, 8. It would be like: 5, no hit/tap, 7, 8.

FIIIVE, seven, eight - FIIIVE, seven, eight - FIIIVE, seven, eight.

You can slow down or speed up as you like, and this, dear @camilalauren0327 and babies, is an example of syncopation. If you guys want, to listen and understand better, I also found this for you: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z-H6oXpF-tw.

But anyway. What's my point? Why explain all this to you? Because for many composers and producers, syncopation is a vital element because it helps them tie the rhythm and the melody of a song together. The use of syncopation in music in general, but more precisely in a song, makes the track different and even unique at times.

And now that you know this, Lauren did or didn't use a beautiful metaphor with a simple one-word to describe her and Mila? *she was so phenomenal and romantic 😍*

“Face to face, tell me do you feel it too?”

Sounds weird that Laur was wondering, right? Well, it actually isn't because this song is about the moment in the timeline they were in the Like Friends Dosituation. Laur was still in denial and therefore they didn't speak. She didn't know if Mila still wanted her or not, and most likely, it was just before Mila started her relationship with the mystery girl because it coincides with Lauren finally accepting herself and her feelings for her.

Chorus:

“You got me paralyzed, and I think I like it

Caught me by surprise, I'm not usually like this, no

Got me paralyzed, don't think I can fight this

Why's it feel so right?”

The difference between the first chorus and this, is the ‘don't think I can fight this’ here. As I said before and as we know, Laur had been in denial all her life and she’d always fought against these feelings, but this time it was different. Thiswas different because Camila was different. Hell, Lauren herself was different. The environment she was in was different. Different especially from home and from what she was used to there. Her feelings were different. More powerful. Nothing like the crushes she'd had on other girls in the past, and she knew, because she knew, that she was going to lose this fight. Here, or rather at the time at that moment, she was simply admitting it to herself.

Bridge:

“But maybe I should wait

Let it fall into place

'Cause I keep going over

The things that could come from me feeling this way (Way)”

She was having second thoughts here. Her fear took over. Fear is the most powerful tool in the world. It makes you do unimaginable things and it makes you not do what you really want.

“And I don't wanna play (I don't wanna play)

This emotional game (This emotional game)

But when you pull me closer

I cannot deny that I want you to stay”

BUT, she finally gave in. She overcame her fear by finally admitting to herself that she wanted her, and not just physically. The ‘stay’ is tricky because if it's read just like that, it only means a physical action, but for Camren? It means so much more. An example that comes to mind now is the ‘It's almost 2AM and I can't ask you to stay’ that we find in Feel It Twice. For them, the ‘stay’ is not just a physical action. It's deeper. It means staying with each other. It means staying/being together.

After the bridge, we have the post-bridge and then the chorus again (in which that raspy, mature high-note occurs on the “I cannot deny this love”, which honestly leaves me dead every time) which I've already explained, so that's it, dear @camilalauren0327. All Night is a song about Laur's acceptance of her feelings for Mila.

I hope you liked it, and, I don't know where you live, but I hope you're having a wonderful summer or a beginning of winter. Sending you a hug 🤗

For you guys, on the other hand, I hope you too are having a wonderful summer or a beginning of winter wherever you live 😊 I'll try to keep answering your asks whenever possible until I get home in September (damn places with no connection and only one wi-fi).

Always remember to be kind, to others and to yourselves. Be a good example. Be patient. Be safe and take care of yourselves. Don't let our ship sink. Keep shipping them, but please respectfully 🙏🏼 Sending you virtual love and hugs 🤗🤗🤗 I love you, babies. Always with love, F ❤️

[lifeinahole27]

CS ff: “Walking the Tightrope” (Chapter 5/10) (au)

Summary: Killian’s daily routines are a matter of habit. When he wakes up late one morning, his routines all change for the better. Emma doesn’t care about routines, but she does care about Killian, no matter how reluctant she is to admit it to herself.

Rating: E (much later in the story)

Content Warnings: Maybe some strong language.

A Special Thank You: My continued gratitude to my lovely friends, @captainstudmuffin and @phiralovesloki. And a heap of love to @captainswanbigbang for putting this together and helping me accomplish this.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | 

Find it on Ao3 & FFN!

-x-

Chapter 5: Of Pirates and Settling In

October 31: Thursday

The night before Halloween, Killian is thankful for his prompt attention in setting out his Halloween costume a week ago since he doesn’t get home until after dinner time. Not that he’s going to complain, of course, since he had a damn good reason to be home at that hour after snogging Emma Swan in the middle of the street for way longer than either of them anticipated. 

He wonders if they’d still be there if Granny hadn’t interrupted them. 

Just thinking about it again sets his heart racing. After Emma asked him to be patient, Killian genuinely didn’t know if they would ever develop past friendly acquaintances. But after tonight, the way her hands had framed his face as she leaned up to kiss him before going inside, he’s pretty sure they’re well beyond that. He figured he would be lucky to find himself amongst the ranks of her friends and allies, but now there’s a genuine chance that this could turn into something more. 

Kissing her is an experience he can’t compare. Not only does she affect the way his heart beats but he would let her steal the air right from his lungs if that’s what she wanted. It’s probably dangerous to be this enamored with her already. 

Shaking his head, Killian pushes through his nightly routines, enjoying the ghost sensation of Emma’s lips on his.

At the end of the night, he doesn’t even notice that he didn’t follow his steps precisely or in the correct order, only that he completed what he had to before he climbs into bed anticipating the next day.

On Halloween, he wakes up early enough to fully prepare. He’d been told shortly after arriving that Halloween in this small town was a much-celebrated affair, and it just so happens that it is one of his favorite holidays to really get into. So he takes his time sliding on each part of the costume he’s had for years. 

Just about the only good thing that’s come out of losing his hand is the ability to authentically pull off a Captain Hook costume. He’s so adept at putting on the layers that he still has plenty of time to grab his coffee and secure his bag as he strolls out the door. 

It’s cold out, cold enough that he wishes again for a hat and a glove, and certainly not to have half of his chest exposed with the way the shirt buttons up. He hastens to his meeting spot with Emma, already looking forward to her reaction and to see what she’s wearing as her own costume. When he’d asked her about it last night, she’d smiled unassumingly and told him he’d have to wait and see. 

He’s more than a little surprised when he gets closer to the corner to find it already occupied. He knows it’s Emma, of course, but he’s so used to her hair being down and free-flowing that it takes him a couple seconds to absorb the fact that it’s carefully pulled back in a bun and pinned away from her face.

She turns when he gets closer, and his steps stumble just the slightest bit which causes her to smirk. She’s wearing glasses, which he’s never seen before, and his eyes just glance across the rest of her to take in the details. Her black leather jacket is on again, but instead of the usual jeans, she’s wearing a pair of dark grey dress trousers. On top, she’s wearing a button-up shirt and tie that look so close to something he owns that he wonders for a second if she snuck in and raided his closet. It’s all topped off with a waistcoat that matches the bottoms, but dips low and fastens beneath her bust. 

Her eyes must focus on him because her jaw is dropping and her eyes pop open wide beneath her spectacles, and they more than likely have matching looks on their faces. 

“Wow,” she says slowly, looking him up and down a few times. “You were not joking when you said you go all out.”

He spreads his arms wide so she can see the whole thing uninterrupted, spinning once when he finally gets all the way to the corner. She inches closer, tucking a book he didn’t notice before under her arm so she can reach out and grab the much older fashioned hook he uses with the costume. It’s a bit of a pain in the sense that he doesn’t have the functionality of his usual hook, but this fits the costume better and he loves the authentic feel of it. 

She lifts the apparatus to inspect it, running her fingers along the smooth metal. 

“Captain Hook? Really? Where’s the perm? The waxed moustache?”

“Left them back in England,” he tells her, shifting forward to move closer to her. 

“I like the eyeliner,” she confesses, her other hand sliding along the lapel of the greatcoat that he had specially made for this costume. 

“Our light is about to change,” he murmurs as she steps even closer still. He’s certainly not going to complain about these developments, even if it’s throwing their whole morning off by a few minutes. 

“Yeah, I know.” Despite those words, she still leans up and kisses him, lingering over the one simple press of her lips until just before the safety bell starts dinging to let them know the protected cross will end soon. 

She moves fluidly, then, using her grip on his hook to guide him across the street. When they get to Granny’s they pause again. 

“I’ll be working late tonight,” she tells him. “Text me to keep me entertained?”

“Hordes of rival pirates couldn’t stop me, love.” He bends to kiss her cheek softly, enjoying the noise she makes in approval before he steps away again. “Have a good day, Swan.”

“Thanks. You too, Captain!”

She’s already moving up the pathway before he remembers to ask, confused at the bookish look she’s wearing. “By the way, who are you supposed to be?” he asks from the entrance to the patio. 

Just as she reaches the door, she turns and pulls the book from beneath her arm, flipping it open and adjusting her glasses on her face. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m you,” she responds, fixing him with a look he knows he gives her when he’s flirting. His heart beats double-time even as he laughs. If he’s not careful, he’ll fall in love with her before they even manage to go on a date. 

Thankfully, she takes the opportunity while he’s laughing to lift the book in farewell, entering the diner and leaving him still chuckling as he moves along towards his office. 

The whole company has dressed for the spirit of the day; Robin is dressed in full Robin Hood regalia and Will as his second-hand man. They’ve been friends for so long and the joke’s been made so many times that they just go with it now. Even Anna is playing along and wearing a traditional Norwegian dress that he knows for a fact was passed down from her ancestors because she’s told him three times now. 

For the most part, however, no one seems to be doing their work. If this was a Friday, he’s willing to bet that most people would be out of the office at noon. Instead, since they’re mingling and not attempting to be productive, he’s the only one in his office trying to get something done. He gives up before lunch time, packing up Henry’s book and all his notes and heading to Granny’s, but even there the festivities seem to be lingering and he can’t seem to concentrate on anything he’s reading.

Instead, after he’s finished his early lunch, he collects the darts from the board and starts throwing, thinking back to that night out with Emma. As if thinking her name summons her, the door to the diner opens and shuts and he turns to see her scanning the restaurant before heading straight for him.

“Everything all right, Swan? Or have you come to get your second caffeine fix?”

“Something like that,” she says, taking a moment to continue. He lines up his next throw but it ends up going far off course with what she says next. “Actually, I’m here to ask you out. To dinner, or something.” The clack of the dart hitting the wall goes unnoticed as he turns slowly to look at her.

“Shouldn’t I be the one to ask you out?”

“Should’ve known you’d try to be old-fashioned about it. But we’d both be three hundred before you managed to do it. You had the perfect opening last night!” 

The whole diner seems to have paused in their activities to watch the progression of their conversation. It’s not like he can blame them, since it’s definitely not anything he was expecting to be dealt today, and they all get front-row seats to the show. Even Granny is staring at them, only turning and going back about her business with a knowing smile on her face when she notices him look at her. 

“I was trying to follow your lead,” he says incredulously, throwing his hand and hook into the air. When Emma continues to just stare at him, he drops his arms and moves closer. “I’ll happily accept on one condition: you let me plan the evening.”

“I know how to plan a date!”

“You know how to chase traffic violators and blow into my workspaces like a whirlwind. I know how to plan an evening out.”

Her expression says she knows he’s not wrong, and she bobs her head in acquiesce. 

“Well, I don’t pillage and plunder on the first date, just so you know.”

He chuckles at that, moving closer as his scoundrel side peeks out again. He regards her from beneath hooded eyes for a second. “That’s because you haven’t been out with me yet,” he says plainly, breaking the moment only a bit with a smug smile when he sees the look in her eyes. 

“Saturday,” she says after she snorts and schools her facial expressions again. “Save it for Saturday.”

“I’ll try my solid best, love.”

She rolls her eyes, but she’s laughing under her breath as she does. She turns, looking like she’s about to head to the counter but instead she moves back and kisses him solidly again. 

“See you tomorrow morning,” she tells him as she backs away.

He watches as she approaches the counter, to Granny and the softly amused look on her face. “On the house, Emma,” she tells her as she hands over a bag of food that he doesn’t think Emma even had the chance to order yet. 

She says her thanks and moves back towards the exit, turning once when she gets to the door. He’s still watching her, fiddling with one of the darts and a star-struck look on his face. He lifts his hook in a parting gesture, pleased to see her returning grin come out full force. 

The second she’s out the door, everyone goes back to exactly what they were doing. Normal conversations resume, and the sounds of cutlery hitting plates echoes around the small place once more. Even the kitchen seems to make noise again, with the cooks calling out orders and the life returning to the whole restaurant. If Killian was a betting man, he’d guess that the whole town will know of their impending date by the end of the hour. 

He keeps his word and texts her later in the day, even sending her pictures of the other employees that dressed up. In return, she sends the picture she gets later of Granny and Ruby dressed up as they get ready for trick-or-treating. Granny’s usual outfit is just topped with wolfy ears and a tail, and a frilly white apron with Ruby dressed as Little Red Riding Hood. 

In the early evening as he’s just trying to pack up and head home, Will appears in his door. 

“Did you know your girlfriend dressed up as you for Halloween?”

He almost corrects Will that Emma isn’t his girlfriend, but now that might very well be a lie. They do have a date planned and she has kissed him multiple times now, so while the words are on the tip of his tongue, he just gives a long-suffering sigh as he continues to tidy his office, diligently shutting down his computer as he responds.

“I’m aware, yes.” 

“She steal the clothes out of your closet for that?”

“Amazingly, no. She hasn’t even been to my flat yet.”

Will makes a noise at that, but he looks impressed. The fact that he doesn’t push or tease any further speaks volumes as to how fast the news has already traveled. “You comin’ out for a drink tonight?”

“Aye,” Killian responds, tucking the last of his notes into his bag and looping it over his shoulder. “Might as well. But only the one!” They do have to be at work tomorrow, and he doesn’t plan on looking exhausted out of his mind when he shows up to his meeting in the afternoon. 

He’s glad he agreed after he walks into the bar. Despite it being a Thursday, the place is packed. Among the throngs, he’s still easily able to pick out Emma, leaning across the bar so Jefferson can hear what she’s saying. The other man, doing way too good of a job dressed as the Mad Hatter, nods and hands her a bottle of water before she turns and starts heading back towards where he’s still standing. 

As soon as she spots him, she grins and yanks him in the direction of the door. 

Outside, with the noise dampened by the structure of the building, he can hear her when she greets him.

“Hello, love. Off shift yet?”

“No, but almost. I just had to warn Jefferson that a group of teenagers was overheard bragging at the diner about how real their fake IDs looked. Hey, you’re Captain Hook right now. Think you can keep an eye out for some Lost Boys and scare them off if you see them?”

“Careful, Swan. I may just try to recruit them to join my merry band of pirates so we can finally defeat that blasted Peter Pan.” He makes sure to go into the full character, letting his voice dip low in a growl and shaking his hook with vengeance. 

Emma tilts her head back, chuckling at his theatrics before dropping it back down to level him with a stare. “Also, Prince Charming and his Snow White are in that bar somewhere so if you get out of line, at least one of them is coming for you.”

“I can’t wait to see the costumes,” he admits, even as Emma takes his hook in her hand again and he forgets what exactly he was excited to see when he heads back inside. 

“Don’t get into too much trouble?”

“I’ll be the very picture of innocence.” He takes her hand gently in his, bending low and kissing the back of it, smirking up at her when he catches the look in her eyes. “Unless you want me to be otherwise, of course.”

She hums, using her grip on his hand to pull him closer so she can place a kiss on his cheek. “Be good. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Looking forward to it,” he says, waving as she starts heading back towards the station. 

By the time she returns, she looks a little frazzled and tired but relieved to see him still amongst the crowd inside. He’s spent the majority of the evening clustered at a hightop table with David and Snow, with Will and Belle popping by for bits of time. Emma happily accepts the seat Killian vacates for her, shrugging out of her jacket and throwing it over his greatcoat on the back of the chair. 

“Something to quench your thirst, Swan?”

“I’m tempted to ask for a whole bottle of rum but I’ll take a weak vodka cranberry, instead.”

He returns with the drink after a few minutes, careful of how close he stands. He doesn’t know what she’s told her brother about their progress into a relationship and he’s determined to let her do this all in her own time. 

It’s difficult, however, when she goes about rolling up her sleeves, loosening the tie around her neck and popping open a few buttons at the collar of her shirt. She rolls her neck, and when she looks at him, he can tell by her expression alone that she’s been doing it on purpose. There’s a smirk hidden in the corner of her mouth and he somehow manages to hold back the groan that’s trying to make its way out of his chest. 

If either of the others at the table notice anything, neither of their faces give it away. He’s just fine with that, though. 

It isn’t until David and Snow are occupied talking to Ariel that Emma places her chin in her hand and looks up at Killian with an innocent smile on her face. “Just a small taste of your own medicine.” He’s tempted to ask what she means by that but he sees she’s undone yet another button on the shirt and he sighs and averts his gaze. 

“One day you’ll pay for this, Swan.” When he looks at her again, she’s looking right back with a very readable expression on her face. She knows damn well what she’s doing, by the looks of it. 

This is still new. And because it’s still new, he knows that while he wants to venture into a whole sinful variety of responses to her teasing, he also knows he wants something that lasts. They have plenty of time to get to the fun parts, so for now he takes the coy behavior and slips it away with a redirection. “Tell me, love, did you ever gather up those Lost Boys that were running amok around town?” 

“Every last one of them has been taken back to their homes and tucked in for the night. And if not, it’s Phillip’s problem.”

As the evening continues, he gets pulled onto the dance floor by Emma. He knows dances - he knows the Waltz and can hold his own in a Tango if he has to, but casual dancing to a steady, heavy bass beat is a different ballroom, so to speak. 

“Come here,” she says when they get to the middle of the swaying bodies. “There’s only one rule. Pick a partner who knows what she’s doing.” 

Since he moved to Storybrooke, Killian has felt like an outsider looking in. Even with the Fridays at the bar and the new friends gained over the past months, there’s been something holding him back. But in this moment, as Emma moves to the music in front of him, this feels like him becoming a true part of the town. 

The dance they’re doing is very tame compared to some of the other couples around them, but this is a good start for him. At one point during a slower song, his eyes scan across the rest of the bar and his eyes land on Snow, her smile soft and considerate as she watches the two of them sway together. When she sees Killian looking, her smile grows wider. Then she’s grabbing David’s hand and pulling him to the dance floor, as well. 

It’s not long before Emma turns Killian’s wrist to look at his watch. She groans, resting her forehead against his chest for a moment. 

“One more song and then I’ve gotta call it a night,” she tells him.

“Agreed.”

Far earlier than he would’ve gone home on a raucous holiday in his youth, he and Emma push out of the bar and into the open, cool air. The spirit of the day follows them down the street, with Emma holding his hand and swinging their arms. 

“You know,” he starts. “I quite fancy you, Emma Swan.”

“Yeah? Enough to accept that I’m walking you home instead of the other way around this time?”

“If that’s what the lady wishes, it would be bad form to deny it.”

“I do wish it, so lead the way, Hook.”

“It does suit me, doesn’t it?”

“There’s a lot we could unpack with which version of Hook you’re trying to be.”

“You’re familiar with Barrie’s discussions about the character?”

“I liked reading as a form of escape growing up. When the internet became a thing, I kind of went on a Wikipedia bender and ended up looking up everything I could about the play. There was this kid in one of my classes that was named Peter. We all called him Pan and we got in appropriate levels of trouble whenever the teacher left the room.”

“And what happened to young Pan?”

“We don’t really know,” Emma says, her eyebrows drawing down in thought. “He was gone one day. His foster parents wouldn’t talk about it. I thought about trying to track him when I got older but decided that there are some things that shouldn’t be found.”

“Kindred spirit with reading to get through life’s challenges,” Killian says, more to change the subject than anything else. It’s clear that the subject of the past still upsets her but at least they had a major thing in common growing up. “I would read for hours after I was finished with my assignments and chores. It was a Liam-approved activity that kept me occupied and out of trouble until the trouble got into me.”

“Is that from the files of the… how did you phrase it? That sordid but charming history?”

“Aye. All of which you’ll get to hear about in a couple days if that’s where the conversation takes us.”

“We can skip all the breakup stuff, if that’s cool with you,” Emma throws in. 

Ground rules. He likes ground rules. And establishing them now means he won’t do something idiotic like pry into something she doesn’t want to discuss. And likewise, that means he doesn’t have to tell her anything about Milah, so it’s a perfect concept.

As they get closer to the end of the street, Killian nudges her a little bit. “This is me. The first floor.” He nods with his chin to indicate the charming little duplex up the short walkway. She tilts her head as she looks at it, smiling at the dark green and the small but intricate stained glass piece that makes up the window. 

He falters trying to decide if he should invite her in, spitting it out at the last second. “Would you like to come in? I have hot chocolate on hand, since I prefer it over the powdered varieties.”

“That’s what Snow always makes me,” she says with a wide smile. “And while I’d love to, I have to get home and wash the holiday out of my hair. But save me some?”

“Of course, love. Would you text me just to let me know you’ve arrived safely?”

Her grin stays put as she removes the space between them, pushing onto her toes for a moment to press her lips to his. “I can do that. Goodnight, Killian. See you tomorrow.”

His quiet tidings slip out of the dreamy look on his face, and he sighs as he watches her walk back up the sidewalk. He waits until she turns down the next street before he makes his way inside, closing and locking up before he rests against the door. 

It’s good that she didn’t agree, since most of his home is still packed away. Perhaps, he thinks, it’s time to change that.

-x- November 1: Friday

The hardest part of knowing they’re going on a date on Saturday, at least in Killian’s mind, is acting totally natural when he sees Emma Friday morning. Of course, it’s hard not to look excited and surprised when she throws off his whole routine by showing up outside his flat. She’s back to her hair flowing free, a knit cap snug over her head and a scarf wrapped around her neck. She lifts one of her gloved hands to wave to him, looking sheepish at the same time.

“Not that I’m not thrilled to see you, love, but what are you doing here?”

“Well, I figured it was pointless to make you walk by yourself when we’re going in the same direction. And the Bug is all warmed up and ready to go so those ears of yours don’t have to turn bright red again today.”

It’s only then that he realizes she’s standing in front of a yellow Volkswagen Bug, looking aged but well-tended if the soft puttering of the motor is anything to go by. 

“I’ve never been one to turn down the kind gesture of a beautiful woman,” he responds, making his way towards her from his front stoop. “And it just so happens I have one in return.” 

With care, he maneuvers his arm to shift one of the two stainless steel mugs from his protective hold and hands it over to her. 

“I was going to give you that at the corner, but I suppose now is a good time, too.”

She happily accepts the coffee, flipping the lid open so she can inhale the warm aromas before closing it up again. “Thank you,” she says on the exhale, smiling gratefully and beckoning him forward towards her car. 

“This is quite the vessel you captain, Swan.”

“Gets me from point A to point B. I take better care of it now than when I first got it.”

“There’s a story there. Going to share?”

Emma hums for a moment but says nothing else as she pulls on her seatbelt. She shifts into gear and starts making her way along the route he’s so used to walking. It goes so much faster, obviously, but then he realizes he has just a limited time to talk to Emma this way. In realizing this, his whole mind clams up and he’s at a loss for words as he watches the scenery zip by. 

“I’m having dinner at my brother’s place tonight, so I won’t be out at all,” she tells him as they get closer to their corner. “You have tomorrow planned?”

“Aye,” Killian responds, thankful for the conversation opener. “But you’ll have to wait to find out where we’re going.”

“Gonna give me any hints?”

“Wear whatever you think constitutes as nice,” he tells her. He looks at her when they stop at a red-light and she’s staring at him with her eyes narrowed, probably trying to figure out where he’s taking her. “It could be that outfit from yesterday and I’d be just fine with that. Light’s green.”

She presses her lips into a thin line, but it’s more to prevent the smile from getting any bigger. “Okay, okay. Keep your surprises.”

“I’ve every intention of doing just that,” he tells her as they pull up outside of his office building. “Until tomorrow, Swan.” He lifts her hand from the gearshift to place a kiss on her knuckles, even if it is through the fuzzy fabric of her gloves. He exits the car as gracefully as one can from such a cramped space and makes sure to give her one final wave of goodbye before she drives off.

Now to just get through a day of work with his head on straight so he can enjoy tomorrow. 

Once in his office, he sits down with his notes from the day prior and gets into the mindframe of where he needs to be for this story. Just from a quick glance at the planner in front of him shows he has a progress meeting with Robin today and another meeting with Henry on Monday. 

There’s a solid ten minutes where he sits there, frozen in his chair, staring at the words on his computer as they blur together. His life has been about routine and order for so long but lately it’s felt like a breeze of chaos has swept through it. Not that he minds, of course. The sole reason everything’s a bit less structured is because Emma brings a new adventure to his life every day.

He can remember a time when the simple act of being surprised, like he was this morning, could’ve derailed everything, but instead it was such a small but thoughtful act on her behalf and one that he finds he would invite into his life now more than ever. 

With a subtle shake of his head, he clears his mind in order to focus. Then, before he can get lost in thoughts of his date tomorrow, or what he’ll wear, or what they’ll talk about, he wades right into the next chapter of Henry’s book and lets himself be immersed. 

He reads through the chapter again, jotting down notes by hand to check consistency later. Then it’s time for the surface edits. Spelling errors and word choices, grammar and syntax. He follows through each step carefully before going back to the start of the chapter to make notes. He’s barely a page in when Will appears in his doorway with a steaming mug of coffee and a take-out bag from Granny’s. 

“Best to eat now because you’re up next in the line of meetings,” Will says as he sets the items down on the edge of Killian’s desk. Will has his own projects to tend to but he makes sure to leave some of the concept art for the cover of Henry’s book along with lunch. 

“You’re a good man, Scarlet. No matter what everyone else tells me.”

“Funny man,” Will mutters on his way out, holding up a hand in farewell as he goes back to his own side of the building. 

Killian has just finished his lunch when Robin taps on his door frame. “Ready?”

“Aye. Let me save everything I did today and we’ll get started.”

The rest of the afternoon is consumed with his meeting with Robin. He’s thankful for the freedom his boss is giving him regarding this project but it only means that this progress report goes longer than it would’ve if Robin was breathing down his neck the whole time. They sit there with their combined notes on the chapters Killian has completed and talk about what the discussion with Henry will consist of the following Monday.

Despite having a good deal of experience with editing under his belt, this is Killian’s first involvement from start to finish. It’s something he knows will get easier and smoother with time, but for now he’s already feeling the pressure to get it all just right. At the end of this tunnel comes everything else, including helping with marketing and strategy. With how young Henry is, there will be more buzz around this release than they generate for their usual authors. The road ahead is long and arduous, but one he’s absolutely willing to take.

In an astounding turn of events, Killian is one of those that ducks out of the office ahead of quitting time. He waves to Will on his way out, smirking when the other man throws up his hands in exasperation. He shrugs, pushing through the exit and welcoming the cold chill of November. 

The walk back home is a little more brisk than usual, and he’s grateful for the fact that his heat is on and working to make his house as comfortable as possible. 

He follows his own line of routines after he gets back, tucking his boots on the tray beneath his coat rack before heading to his office to put away his work. There’s a likelihood that he’ll sit down with it again later, but for now, he has every intention of going through every item of his clothing until he knows what to wear for his evening with Emma. 

Choosing his outfit for the next day derails everything else for a few moments. After dinner is in the oven, he goes to his closet and carefully selects the items, standing back and admiring the effect of each combination. The winner is one that’s not far off his usual brand, but different enough that he won’t feel like he’s going to work. And hopefully, Emma will see that, too. Pleased with his choice, he sets it aside and goes back to check on his meal.

Once he’s sitting at his kitchen table, he looks around the sparsely furnished area. Much like his office, he hasn’t done any settling in the time that he’s lived in Storybrooke. It’s not that he feels like he’ll be leaving again any time soon, but rather an inability to see the big picture of comfort here just yet. As he glances at the counters and surfaces in his respectable kitchen, however, he starts to see what he never could before and what he thought of last night: a home. 

Just after he finishes eating and cleans his dishes, he gets a text from Emma about dinner at the Nolan residence. There’s a picture of her hot chocolate, a respectable dollop of whipped cream to top it off, and he imagines what she must look like curled up in what is clearly a comfortable place for her. 

“What are you doing?” she texts a little bit later. He’s not quite sure how to respond, since there’s an absolute disorder of boxes and package filler littered around his normally pristine kitchen. 

“Creating a mess,” he sends back when he finally gets to his phone. He’s surprised when it rings right after.

“A mess?” her voice comes across, and it’s clear that he’s on speakerphone, so she must be back home already.

“An awful mess, Swan. Did you know that bubble wrap, if left alone for too long, multiplies inside the boxes you packed it away in?”

“I was unaware,” she says, clearly amused by the tone in her voice. “What are you unpacking?”

“Well, a little bit of everything. Other than some absolute necessities, my possessions have been living in boxes since they were shipped over. I’ve decided to start with the kitchen tonight, for some reason. And while everything is now out of the boxes, it’s in utter disarray until I get it all put away.”

“You finally settling in?”

“Something like that,” he says, his voice going a little soft. “Everything just seemed so orderly when I could keep a running inventory in my mind.”

There’s a momentary lull in the conversation, but he can hear Emma rustling around on the other line so he still knows she’s there.

“I was surprised you called,” he admits. On the other end, Emma huffs out a quiet laugh.

“I’m working on something. It was easier to call than text,” she tells him. “Besides, now that I finally have your number, I figured I should make up for lost time.”

“I nearly asked your brother for yours before I added it to your card,” Killian tells her. “I wasn’t sure if we were heading towards that ‘dating’ status and so I was afraid he might bite, as previously warned.”

Emma’s laugh comes across loud and clear, and he can hear the audio jostle. When she speaks again, it’s closer, and he knows she’s taken hold of the phone.

“Only if you ask him to, I told you that. I’m going to leave you to your chaotic kitchen. Don’t get so lost in it that you forget about our date.”

“As if I ever could, Swan.”

“Goodnight, Killian,” she says, her voice soft and smile evident.

“Sweet dreams, Swan.”

-x-

Chapter 6

[thislassishooked]

CS January Joy Day 2

Whew, I almost didn’t make it. I actually didn’t see my name on the list until New Years Eve, but somehow I was able to churn this out in two days. I’m so excited to share this little story because it gives my readers a peek into my life. I am a medical laboratory scientist and this is sort of what I do on a daily basis, minus the hot doc and precocious Henry. Thank you @csjanuaryjoy​ for hosting this event again this year. Enjoy!

AO3

Summery: Emma doesn’t like visitors to her laboratory at Storybrooke General Hospital, but somehow finds herself making an exception, albeit reluctantly, for the hospital’s new attractive, accident prone, infectious disease physician.

He could hear the music from the adjoining hallway. The smile that spread from cheek to cheek was not due to the catchy, nineties pop music coming from the laboratory, but the woman who was, no doubt, dancing and singing along, oblivious to his impending approach. It wasn’t until he reached the barely propped door that he caught the lyrics, sung from Swan’s own lips.

“Doctor Jones, Jones, calling Doctor Jones, Doctor Jones, Doctor Jones, get up now, wake up now!”

Killian felt his heart swell at the thought that just maybe the song wasn’t a coincidence, that perhaps she had chosen it on purpose. He hoped she had chosen it on purpose. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that every time he heard the music from Swan Lake, his mind would unwittingly conjure an image of Emma’s glorious green eyes. When it came to Emma Swan, Killian was most definitely fucked, and not in the good way. He was sure she didn’t return his affections, all scowls and eye rolls, and to make matters worse, he always made a bloody fool of himself in her presence. Gone was his swagger, his vocabulary, his god damned dignity.

He nudged the door further open and his jaw dropped at the scene before him. Emma was bent over her microscope, swinging her hips to the beat, somehow accentuating the curve of her perfect hind quarters in the not so flattering blue scrubs. The move was mesmerizing, seeing as she had to keep the upper half of her alluring body completely still. 

He must have been watching her for over a minute, knowing full well that if he didn’t make his presence known soon, he would definitely be approaching creeper status. Just as he pushed himself through the doorway, his scrub ties caught on the handle, making him yelp in surprise as his movement was suddenly halted, causing him to juggle the sample he was carrying, before thankfully catching it tightly in his grip while simultaneously scaring the living daylights out of Emma, if her startled scream was anything to go off of. Yet again, Killian Jones had made an utter fool of himself in front of Emma Swan.

---

January was Emma’s favorite time of year. The stress and loneliness of the holiday season had ended and her workload increased with every new case of the sniffles that walked through the hospital doors. The lab is where Emma was happiest, staring at sample after sample of blood, sputum, urine, etc., identifying the culprit and sending the results back to the doctors.

From a young age, Emma had excelled in science. Sometimes she would even catch her foster parents bragging to other parents that she had won first place in the science fair, but it never seemed to last. She would eventually end up back in a group home where finding any privacy to study was rare and frustrating. She didn’t bother making friends, choosing instead to read every science book she could get her hands on from the library. She hadn’t meant to read the huge copy of the Sanford Guide to Infectious Diseases, but after only a few pages she was hooked. Emma considered going to medical school, but ultimately decided she would be happier not dealing with patients. She really wasn’t much of a people person so she took the next logical step and focused on behind the scenes laboratory work, earning her masters degree in public health from Columbia University and snagging the medical laboratory scientists job at Storybrooke Hospital.

She had been at the hospital’s lab for two years when she learned that the resident infectious disease expert was retiring and his replacement was a Dr. K. Jones, a professor from London’s School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine. She found it odd that a doctor with such an impressive resume would give up his or her fancy job in the UK, take such a pay cut and come to their sleepy little town.

She remembered the first time she met Killian Jones. She had strolled into her lab one morning to find a man with thick, dark hair fiddling with her electron microscope. When she cleared her throat, irritated that this stranger had had his hands all over her things, he swung around so fast that his hand actually knocked the petri dish from the stage and it splattered all over the floor. He had started sputtering out an apology while grabbing some cleaning supplies. She then watched in horror and admittedly a bit of amusement as things just got worse. He ended up spilling half a bottle of Clorox on the floor, then somehow proceeded to slip on the puddle and end up flat on his back in the pool, no doubt ruining his dark, form fitting clothes. She noticed as he laid on the floor groaning that dark scruff peppered his jaw, cheeks and upper lip. He threw his hands over the top half of his face, most likely out of frustration and embarrassment and when he spoke again, she noticed that he had an accent. An English accent. She made her way to his prone body and folded her arms as she got a better look at him. Her brain made the connection, seeing as no one without security clearance was allowed access to her lab, and was surprised that the British expat and her new colleague was so young.

“Dr. K. Jones, I presume?” Emma asked, trying to keep any hint of amusement out of her voice.

“Aye,” he confirmed, removing his hands from his face and Emma was instantly struck by the blue of his eyes, topped with thick, expressive eyebrows. She was right, he looked completely mortified. Something in his expression changed when he swept his gaze over her though and it made Emma feel exposed. She didn’t like visitors to her lab, only ever allowing her assistant Ruby to deliver Samples to her. Jones clambered to his feet while Emma continued to ruminate. “Killian Jones,” he clarified, offering his hand to Emma. She ignored it.

“Emma Swan,” she stated curtly. “For future reference, Dr. Jones, this is my lab and I value my privacy. My assistant will be in touch.” She turned from a speechless Killian, note to self, don’t ever call him that, and swept her hands in the direction of the door, indicating that he could use it to exit the same way he entered. He left without another word, but it would not be the last she saw of him, in her lab, messing with her stuff. Killian Jones was relentless in his pursuit to befriend Emma. He got deep under her skin by personally delivering every STAT sample, complimenting her on her work, and always managing to make a damn fool of himself while doing it. She feared her icy facade was beginning to noticeably melt.

---

Killian scratched that spot behind his right ear as Emma visibly deflated with that adorable head shake she gave him after every ungraceful mishap.

“Jones, I have asked you too many times to count for over two years to have Ruby deliver the samples.” She tried to keep her face stern, but Killian could see the tiniest crack of a smile at the corners of her soft pink lips.

“That you have, Swan, and I will continue to ignore your requests so that I may have the chance to see your smiling face every day,” he quipped while removing his scrub ties from the door handle. To his utter horror, as soon as he released his hold on the scrubs they fell to his ankles, leaving him in his dark blue boxers with little red anchors that probably matched the color of his face. Emma’s hint of a smile blossomed into a wide, amused grin. At least he succeeded in something today. He quickly hauled the bottoms back up his legs, setting the sample aside so he could retie them.

“Nice undies, Dr. Jones,” she snickered.

“Nice choice of music today, Ms. Swan.” She blushed at that. It really was the most adorable thing he’d seen all day. “While I would love to get snarky with you today, Emma, I’m afraid I’m here for a more serious matter.” Emma nodded for him to continue. He picked up the sample and carefully carried it to her workstation. “This sputum sample is from Henry Mills,” he explained as he handed it over to her. Her breath caught at the mention of Henry’s name. He knew she and the boy were close. Henry was the only visitor to the lab Emma welcomed with open arms. The lad had a knack for science and would often visit the hospital to learn as much about medical science from Emma or himself.

“What do you suspect it is?” she asked as she placed the sample on the stage and adjusted the lense.

“He said he cut his hand while playing in his castle at the playground four days ago and he’s experiencing gastrointestinal distress. He has a fever of 102 with chills, but what worries me most is the redness on the underside of his arm.” He could see Emma blanch as she focused on the sample. He was pretty sure what he was dealing with before retrieving the sample, he just needed Emma’s confirmation.

“Positive for staphylococcus aureus,” she said robotically. “Have you started him on antibiotics? Has he responded?” she asked frantically. Staph infections were pretty easy to treat ten years ago, but with the rise of antibiotic resistant strains, such as MRSA, they could be a death sentence.

“I’ve already ordered intravenous methicillin and we’ll know in about four to six hours if he responds. I’ll keep you updated.” Emma nodded as Killian turned to leave.

“Killian,” she uttered. He paused at the sound of his name and turned back to see her bashfully duck her head and tuck a loose strand of her golden blonde locks behind her ear. “Thank you,” she stated sincerely as her eyes met his. He nodded in response and left to rejoin Henry and his mother to deliver the disappointing news.

---

Emma made her way to the ICU, tears threatening to spill as she approached Henry’s door. Killian had diagnosed him with MRSA after he continued to decline with his first treatment. He had been admitted that night and started an aggressive treatment on a different antibiotic, but things were looking grim two days in as Henry’s condition worsened. His fever spiked at 106 just before he slipped into a coma. Killian started him on Bactrim, their last hope, three days ago, but he still hadn’t regained consciousness. The drug seemed to be working, his fever had dropped dramatically and his rash was shrinking, but the concern now was if he had suffered any brain damage. 

Emma spotted Killian leaving Henry’s room just as she came around the corner. He rubbed furiously as his eyes, let out a long sigh and trudged onward. She knew he hadn’t left the hospital since Henry had been unresponsive. The bags under his sad eyes were evidence that he was sleep deprived as was she. As promised, he had kept her informed, sending a nurse down to the lab with all the details so that he could stay by Henry’s side. She could no longer deny that she had very deep feelings for that man and she desperately missed his visits, as destructive as they sometimes were.

She pushed open the door to Henry’s room and was greeted with the sigh of the ventilator and occasional beeps indicating his heart was a least still beating. He looked so pale and still, a far cry from the lively child that had visited her a week ago. He had been so full of questions that day. She remembered he had wanted to know everything about mad cow disease. She let herself smile at the memory of his response when she told him it could only officially be diagnosed posthumously with a sample of the brain.

“Cool, do you have any samples in your cold storage?”

She explained that the condition was so rare, very few labs in the world had those kinds of samples. His disappointment was quickly forgotten when she let him look at some of the blood samples the phlebotomists had collected that day.

Henry had been regularly visiting her for two years, his first visit having happened just hours after the very accident prone Jones had made a mess of her precious lab. The precocious either year old had wondered in, not knowing that the lab was off limits. He reminded her of herself at that age and found that she was happy to satisfy his curiosity.

“Hi Henry,” she started lamely. “I have a bunch of new samples that I just know you’ll be dying to look at. I can’t wait to show you your own.” She could no longer hold in the tears. “You just need to get better, okay? Please, Henry, I don’t know what I'd do if you left me. You’re my only friend.” She thought that last statement over and realized that it may not be exactly true. Killian had inserted himself into her life, curiously on the same day as Henry, and she found herself looking forward to her time spent with both of them. 

She leaned down to give Henry a kiss on his forehead and as she was yanking on the heavy door to leave, Killian came crashing through, apparently not expecting the door to open itself. He must have been leaning his back against it because he was once again prone, on the floor, groaning from pain and frustration.

“I’m sorry, I swear I didn’t know you were there,” she said, putting down her bag and offering him her hand.

“It’s not your fault, love,” he assured her as he took her proffered hand. “I just can’t seem to keep it together when I’m in your presence.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, sometimes I find it kind of endearing.”

“Endearing…” he repeated as he brushed his hand down his front. She thought he was waiting for her to elaborate so she opened her stupid mouth and made it so much worse.

“Cute, I mean, oh god, I have to go.” She rushed out the door with the image of his shocked face ingrained in her memory. Now she was the one making a fool of herself in front of him. She escaped to her fortress of solitude to try to forget that ever happened.

---

Killian watched her disappear with new found hope in his heart. Perhaps his feelings weren’t so one-sided anymore. His face turned serious again when his eyes landed on Henry.

“She’ll never go on a date with me if I let you die, lad,” he said grimly as he approached Henry’s bed. He looked curiously at the brain activity reader and got the shock of a lifetime.

“She’ll never go on a date with you if you don’t ask her,” a little voice squeaked from below.

“Right you are, Henry,” Killian responded with a face splitting grin. He couldn’t wait to tell Emma. He proceeded to examine the boy, checking for any signs of brain damage. He was positive Henry suffered no permanent damage after listening intently as the boy prattled on about the different types of Ebola. “I’m glad you’re back, Master Henry.”

Killian gave the nursing staff instructions to call Regina immediately with the news then rushed down to the basement to give Emma the good news personally. His heart broke a little for the woman he loved when he realized there was no music coming from the lab. He could hear little sniffles coming from her office as he carefully entered the lab, keeping an eye on his scrub ties while also being vigilant of any other hazards. He knocked on her office door and got a somber “Come in.” Her eyes were wet and rimmed with red. She steeled herself, most likely preparing for bad news. Killian reached out his hand and caught a falling tear on her cheek with his thumb. He brushed the offending liquid away and smiled reassuringly at her.

“Don’t cry, my love. Henry is going to be back to his old ways in a matter of days.” Emma just stared at him, stunned for a moment. It was only then that he realized his mistake in calling her ‘his’ love, rather than just ‘love’. He was worried that he had gone too far this time, but she didn’t run. She schooled her features as she asked him a series of questions.

“He’s awake?”

“Aye.”

“No permanent damage?”

“Nope.”

“Good.” With that, she grabbed his collar and pulled his lips to hers, meeting them in a passionate embrace. It took his stunned brain a second to realize what was happening, but once it didn, he kissed her back fervently. His right hand shot up to the back of her head, holding her in place as his left pulled her midsection closer. She responded by threading both of hers through his hair, no doubt making a mess of it, but he couldn’t care less. His Swan was kissing him and by god, he never wanted it to end. She ran her tongue along the seam of his lips and he happily opened for her, meeting hers with his in a lover’s tango. Her appreciative moan gave him the courage to grasp her by her hips and raise them enough to set her on her desk. She voluntarily opened her legs to allow him space between them, letting out a guttural groan as their bodies met through the thin fabric of their scrubs. Killian really wanted to take this further, but knew that Emma would be anxious to see Henry and it probably wasn't the best location.

“Emma,” he muttered against her mouth. Emma responded with little kisses across his jaw and down his throat, igniting a fire in him that would be damn well near impossible to put out if she carried on like that. “Have mercy, Swan.” She chuckled against his thrumming pulse point then lifted her head just enough to rest their foreheads together.

“Thank you, Killian.” He pulled his head away only so he could look into her eyes that shone so much brighter than they had in the past week.

“For what, love?”

“For saving Henry’s life. And,” she seemed to hesitate, but continued after he gave her an encouraging grin, “for not giving up on me.” He knew this was his chance. It was now or never.

“Will you go out with me?” he asked sincerely. Emma’s answer was in the form of another kiss, soft, sweet and slow this time. She pulled away so she could hop off the desk, threading her fingers through his as she did.

“Pick me up tomorrow at eight?” Killian pulled their entwined hands up to his lips to place a kiss just above her knuckles.

“Aye, it’s a date.”

Emma strolled out of her office and toward the exit of the lab, excited to see Henry, all the while singing to herself. This time, Killian knew the song was meant for his ears.

“Doctor Jones, Jones, calling Doctor Jones, Doctor Jones, Doctor Jones, get up now,”

“Wake up now,” Killian supplied.

[let-it-raines]

Catch Me If You Can (6/?)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series. 

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now. 

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

A/N: So maybe something big happens in this chapter. Maybe not. Okay definitely.  Thanks to all of you for continuing to click and read and be so kind and thanks to @resident-of-storybrooke for being the kindest❤️

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

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-/-

“You’re almost out of milk,” Killian tells Liam as he grabs the gallon out of the refrigerator and pours it into his bowl of Lucky Charms. It was either this or Wheaties, and while Wheaties make more sense for him, Lucky Charms are magically delicious…he’s watched too much TV lately if he’s quoting cereal slogans. “And you guys really need different brands of cereal.”

“We’re running low on groceries because you keep eating everything.”

Liam picks up the box of Lucky Charms between them and places it back in the cabinet, slamming the door shut before he returns to his seat on the barstool on the island. “And because neither Elsa nor I have been able to go to the store in the past two weeks. You should have seen the girls’ lunches this week. It was rough.”

He swirls his spoon around in the cereal, trying to pick up the little brown bits instead of the marshmallows. Isn’t that how everyone eats this? “You do realize there’s such a thing as having your groceries delivered? I do it all the time.”

“Addy likes to come with me, so I like going with her. We have very serious discussions about the branding on food.”

“Of course you do,” he chuckles, taking a bite of the cereal while he flexes his ankles out a bit from the jog that he did before he practiced a few pitches with Will this morning. He still needs to go over his stats and notes tonight and tomorrow for the game, but he’s feeling pretty prepared. It’s their sixteenth game of the season, and while he’s only pitched four games, they’ve won all of those games. They may have a losing record so far, but he doesn’t.

After his first game, that surprises him.

That’s always a good thing when they have to play the Sox on Tuesday. Realistically, he knows that the toughest team they’re going to play this year is the Astros, but the history that’s behind playing the Red Sox is out of this world. Those games are always crazy intense, the atmosphere like nothing he’s ever experienced before, and as much as his nerves rile him up, he thrives in conditions like that.

The fact that they get to go to London to play this year on top of their usual games is fucking amazing.

He’s only geeking out the slightest bit because a boy from Cincinnati should not be allowed to do something like that.

“She’s also very particular about what I buy. Sometimes I swear she’s your child and not mine.”

“Well, I do have a type,” Elsa hums as she walks into the room still dressed in her pajamas, as most everyone should be on a Sunday morning, “but I promise you that those girls are yours, Liam.” She leans into her husband and presses her lips against his temple, making Liam close his eyes and smile. True love and all that. “But if I had to have another baby daddy, I guess we could keep it in the Jones line.”

“That’s really messed up,” he groans, picking at his cereal. “Like, seriously. That is not happening.”

“What? You don’t find my wife attractive?” Liam looks so put out, his lips curved downward and his brows furrowed as he pulls Elsa back to his side, her leg half sitting on top of his.

“I feel like there’s no way for me to answer this question.”

“I think you embarrassed him, honey,” Elsa teases, patting Liam’s hands over her stomach. “His ears are all red. You can see it even though his hair is growing out.”

“It’s just like when he was a kid.”

“I hate both of you,” he grumbles, taking another bite out of his spoonful of Lucky Charms, which does not at all help his cause. “I come over here to spend time with my family on a rare day off, and you guys treat me like this.”

“You play every five days. You have days off.”

“I work during them.”

“For like an hour.”

“Plus, all the time it takes me to get to the stadium. Plus, I’m always on a plane even when I’m not playing. Only occasionally do I get to sit on my ass at home, which I’ve never understood. I feel like I don’t need to go on nearly every road trip.”

“Comradery or something.”

“Eh.”

“We’re just teasing,” Elsa sighs, getting up from her spot in Liam’s lap to lean over the counter and press a kiss into Killian’s cheek. “Of course we’re happy to have you here. Me especially. I swear Liam goes into withdrawals when he doesn’t see you for a couple of days. I’m going to go check on the girls, but I’ll be back, okay?”

“Bye, Els,” he hums, waving her away as she squeezes Liam’s shoulder and walks out of the room to go upstairs to spend time with the girls in their playroom. They know that he’s here, but they apparently are too engrossed in their toys to want to come see him. It’s fine. It doesn’t bother him at all. Definitely not. “So, you really miss me that much, do you? I had no idea. The daily calls and texts weren’t enough.”

Liam rolls his eyes in that particular big brother fashion where it’s just patronizing enough for it to slightly rub Killian the wrong way. He loves his brother, but it doesn’t mean they don’t have their moments. Eight years apart and different life styles can lead to that.

“So, I heard from Dad yesterday.”

Killian drops his spoon into his bowl, the metal clanging against the glass, and his heart pounds in his chest as he tries to wrap his head around what Liam just said. He tries to speak, but it comes out as more of a cough, something that gets stuck in his throat and makes him feel like a lung is trying to escape him.

“W-what the…how did he get in contact with you?”

“Through my patient portal of all things.” When Killian raises his brow, Liam explains. “How people make appointments with me. There’s a place for notes at the bottom. He made an appointment and left one asking if we could meet.”

“Did you reply?”

“No. God no.” Liam runs his hands through his hair, his fingers getting stuck in a tangle in the curl, and that’s weirdly how Killian feels right now. “I had to refer him to another doctor since I don’t treat family, at least that’s what I told my nurse, but I’m not replying to that. He doesn’t deserve the time.”

“He’s a bastard.”

“He is. I’m not sure what he wants.”

“Money,” Killian scoffs, tapping his fingers against the countertop before reaching up to grab the chain around his neck while anger and resentment boil up in him over their father and how shitty he is. “It’s always been money for him so that he can buy more booze and gamble some more. I’m pretty sure the only reason he doesn’t try to make money off of the press about me is because he makes enough gambling on the games.”

“It’s a good thing he doesn’t do that.”

“I wouldn’t put it past him to start one day.”

“I don’t know – I’m not sure that I understand him. If he wanted money, all he has to do is sell stories about you to the press. It wouldn’t be hard for him.”

“He hasn’t talked to me since I was nineteen years old. He has no fucking stories.”

Liam nods his head, his lips pressed together in a tight smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t – I didn’t want to tell you, but I figured you deserved to know that he’s trying to get in contact with me. He could try you next.”

“Aye, I know.” He tightly closes his eyes, willing away the tears that want to come. He will not get frustrated over Brennan Jones. He will not. He hasn’t been in his life for nearly ten years, and he’s not going to rent space in it now. “I’ll let you know if he does, but you know he’s more likely to talk to you anyways. You were always much more agreeable than me.”

“You are a bit of a pain in the ass.”

“Whatever,” Killian laughs, picking up his spoon again to eat some more of his cereal. If Liam is joking, that means this conversation is over, and he’s more than glad for it. “Are Elsa’s parents still coming over for dinner?”

“It’s Sunday. That means the entire Karlsson family comes for dinner at one our places. You want to stay for tonight?”

“Nah, I think I’ll probably make something at home. Next week is the week at Anna’s though, right? I’ll come for that.”

“You sure?”

“Hell, yeah. Anna is by far the best cook out of all of you guys.”

“That’s a good point.”

There’s a pounding down the stairs, little feet making big moves, and before he knows it, there’s two blonde heads crashing into the kitchen, their socks making them skid across the tile floor.

“Daddy,” Addy squeaks, running up to Liam’s barstool and practically climbing on top of him as she gets in his face, while Lucy is just a few steps behind, “Mommy says that you will take us outside to draw on the sidewalk with our new chalks.”

“Did she now?” he chuckles, grabbing onto Addison so that she doesn’t fall. “And what is Mommy doing that she is not down here to tell me this?”

“She’s on the phone with Anna. I think she is angry with Uncle Kris,” Addy whisper-shouts.

“Hi, Killian,” Lucy whispers, tugging at the hem of his shirt. She’s much more reserved than her older sister, a quiet little thing even when she has her moments, and he can always count on her to want to sit and read a book with him.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he sighs, reaching down to pick her up and place her on his knee, giving her his last spoonful of the cereal. “Do you want to go draw outside? You guys have new chalks?”

“We have a new blue one and pink one and a thousand orange ones.”

“A thousand? That’s a lot of orange.”

“It’s not really a thousand orange ones, Lucy,” Addy groans, always the one to correct her little sister. “It’s more like seven, Uncle Killian.”

“Seven is pretty close to a thousand, I think.”

“You always were bad at math,” Liam chuckles.

“I was getting a degree in Physics. How does that make me bad at math?”

“What’s Physics?” Addy asks.

“Something you never want to have to deal with.” Liam clasps his hands together. “Alright, who is ready to go outside and draw with some chalk?”

There are actually eight orange chalk sticks, and he uses them to draw Lucy several tigers and a few orange sea lions. They apparently went to the zoo last week, which is something he didn’t know about, and animals are all the rage right now. Maybe not accurate animals, but animals all the same. Lucy is into tigers and penguins while Addy is far more interest in elephants and their “gigantic” ears, and he and Liam try to help draw out the zoo for them across the sidewalk in front of their townhouse. He’s sure someone will take issue with it, but their neighbors never complain when they do this, always complimenting the girls on their art and playing along.

It’s how they should be.

Addison gives him a lecture on everything she learned about lemurs while Lucy tells him that she thinks sea lions are slippery, and he can’t help but laugh at the two of them and the child-like innocence and joy that they bring into his life. They don’t have real worries, not really, and even when he feels like he’s spiraling out of control, they often bring him back to earth with their sweet gestures and funny bickering and inability to decide whether they can call him Uncle Killian or just Killian.

Plus, without a doubt, they are his biggest fans.

He likes that a lot.

And he likes getting to do things like draw with them. His mom used to do this with him, Liam too when they could get him to come outside and draw – he always claimed that he was too old for it, but he’s now currently got purple chalk on his nose – and this always reminds him of those times. Amelia Jones deserved every chance to get to know her grandchildren and draw on sidewalks with them, and he’ll forever hate that cancer took her away from all of this.

“Oh my goodness,” Elsa gasps as she comes out onto their front steps, now dressed in jeans and simple white sweater with her hair pulled back in a braid, “am I at the zoo? I don’t remember buying a ticket.”

“It’s free for you, darling,” Liam says, and Killian does not roll his eyes at that. Definitely not. “Would you like to come see the orange sea lion exhibit?”

“Of course.” She walks down the stairs and avoids every drawing, swiftly walking along the path that he left open for this exact purpose. “Oh, Lucy, your butterfly is very pretty. Does it have a name?”

“Anna.”

“Like my sister?”

“And grandma. When are they coming to our house?”

“Anna is coming right now, actually,” she hums, still stepping along while he continues to work on a rather magnificent lion if he does say so himself. “She and Kris had their lunch plans cancelled, so they’re coming to invade our zoo.”

“They have to buy a ticket,” Addy says, standing from the ground and wiping her hands on her pants, which only smears the chalk everywhere.

“Addy, I didn’t know you were a business woman.”

“I’m not a woman, Killian,” she scoffs, placing her hands on her hips. “I am a girl.”

“My bad,” he laughs as he holds his hands up in defeat. “I didn’t know you were a business girl.”

“I am. I want to make money to buy a bicycle.”

He knows for a fact that she’s getting a bicycle from him for her birthday at the end of June, but he is certainly not going to say anything to her now, the little spitfire charging her aunt and uncle money to view their sidewalk zoo. Next thing he knows she’s going to be charging him an entrance fee to go back into the house.

“I spy someone with blonde hair and blue eyes.”

Killian whips his head to the side to see Anna and Kris walking from down the street, obviously having taken the train to get here, and both Lucy and Addison get up from where they are and shoot down the sidewalk to run into Anna’s arms. Anna is far too small to pick both of them up, but she manages it, even if it takes a little help from Kris, and she’s got the both of them in a frenzy of laughter and giggles and maybe even a bit of kicking and screaming. As good as he is with the girls, there’s no one like Anna.

It helps that she’s a bit of a child herself, but that’s only meant in the best way.

“I see we’ve put the adults to work,” Anna laughs as she hauls the girls over to where they are. He stands up, Liam doing the same, and it’s a bit of a mess to have to avoid all of the chalk even with the path that he left out. “As they should be.”

Liam and Elsa hug Anna and Kris first, a flurry of exchange of words and hugs and laughter. It’s always so much when they’re around, especially with all of the talking that never seems to end, but it’s always worth it. His family was so small for so long, and while it’s not huge, it’s more than enough.

“I didn’t know I was going to see you,” Anna gasps at him before her arms come to hang around his neck. “I’m sorry we haven’t been able to come to a game yet.”

“If you guys came to every single game,” he whispers in her ear as he pats her back, “I’d be worried about you. There’s a lot of them.”

“We’re coming on Tuesday, though. Right, Kris?”

“Right.” Anna pulls back just for Kris to step into the hug. “There’s no way in hell that I’m missing the first Red Sox rivalry game, especially when you’re the starter.”

“You’re not supposed to use that word, Uncle Kris,” Addy point out.

“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean it.” He looks back to Killian then, whispering, “I totally meant it. I can’t wait. And it’s a night game. That’s just – that’s the best.”

“Sometimes I think Kris only loves me because of you, baby Jones,” Anna sighs.

“I hate that nickname.”

“It’s better than calling you BJ.”

“There are children around,” Liam sing-songs.

“What’s a BJ?” Lucy asks.

“Oh my God,” Elsa mumbles.

“See,” Anna laughs. “Baby Jones is much better.”

“I do not only love you because of Killian. I asked you out before I even knew he was your sister’s brother-in-law.”

“But you stayed because you knew that.”

“That is not true.”

“It is.”

“You are so ridiculous.”

“It’s kind of my number one personality trait.”

“Wait,” Addy gasps, making them all look away from the playful bickering to see her standing at the front door, “Anna and Kris didn’t pay to look at our zoo.”

-/-

“How many do you want to do today?” Will asks as they walk through the tunnels to make their way out onto the field.

“Twelve.”

“That’s oddly specific.”

“I’m an oddly specific guy.”

“That is very true. If I didn’t like you so much, I’d probably hate you.”

“Thanks?” Killian laughs, not entirely sure what to say back to that. Scarlet is such a character, but man is he glad to have him as a friend. Road trips wouldn’t be quite the same without his inability to listen to music at a normal volume and shut up when everyone else on the plane is trying to sleep. It’s the same with gamedays. Will curses more under his breath than anyone, and he swears any umpire they have is always five seconds away from fining him for something, pretty much ready to fine him for existing. “Are you ready to get booed when we walk out here.”

“It is not my fault that the Sox didn’t want me,” Will groans, adjusting his helmet in his hands and hitting his knuckles against it. “I obviously wanted to play for my home team, and now every time we play them, it’s like I’m Edward Snowden.”

“Look at you and your references.”

“I know things.”

“Of course you do.”

“And I like living here, playing here, by the way. And I kind of get this kind of sick satisfaction out of beating them, you know?”

“Absolutely. It’s the best feeling.”

“Exactly. I expect a no-hitter from you tonight.”

Killian barks out a laugh, tilting his head back as they come closer to the door to lead them to the bullpen. “Maybe if Al takes me out after one inning, I’ll get that.”

“I was thinking more like you playing your full five. Rodriguez is your relief pitcher tonight, and he gets all nervous.”

“It’ll be fine, Scarlet. Have some fun. That’s why we’re here isn’t it?”

Killian pushes open the doors that lead to the bullpen, Will following right behind him, and when they walk up the stairs and onto the field to make their way fully into the bullpen, there are already a few hundred fans crowding in the bottom of the stadium, most of them not in their seats. Sure enough, the cheers that sound out after he walks out are soon replaced by boos for Will (the fans only hate him on days like this, but Will acts like it’s all the damn time), and he takes a few minutes to sign a few autographs for the kids that have hats and balls. He knows that a lot of times their parents are going to sell them off, but he holds out hope that some of the kids really just want his autograph for themselves.

The fact that there are children wanting his autograph in the way that he wanted players’ autographs growing up absolutely blows his mind.

Really.

So that’s why he usually goes for the children, making sure to get all of them before focusing on a few adults. But he can’t stay doing that forever. He’s got to warm up now that he’s had his shoulder massaged and iced, and he doesn’t want to be too tight at the start of the game.

Once he’s finished signing autographs, he and Will toss the ball back and forth just to warm him up a little bit more before he starts to actually practice his pitches. Journey music is blaring through the stadium’s speakers, and he can hear the place getting louder and louder minute by minute as more people fill in and the sky continues to darken with an orange glow as the sun starts to set. This is the kind of night any player lives for. Sure, there are bigger nights. There are game seven of the Series kind of nights and nights where your niece has told you that her teacher is watching so you have to win. Those are big, maybe one more than the other, but rivalry nights, rivalry series, those are the things to live for.

And being on their home field for it makes it all the better.

As he throws his practice pitchers, stretching is arm out when he needs it, the crowd begins to fill in, the noise level getting louder as the sun sets further and their start time gets closer, stadium lights coming to life an adding an entire other type of buzz to his ears. It’s a bit humid tonight, but still a comfortable April evening, and he can feel sweat forming at the back of his neck as he throws his last-warm up pitch with Will before they grab their things and head back inside, jogging down the hallways to get to the dugout so that he can get to the mound, everyone else in their place.

The anticipation builds within him, his heart hammering in his chest and making is throat a little dry as he nods at Al and Leroy, a slight smile on his face to reassure them that everything is going to be fine.

As always, he steps up to the mound and looks at the stadium full of people around him.

Ready.

-/-

Two hours later, it’s six runs to none for the Yankees when he steps off the mound and into the dugout, Al telling him that he’s done for the night. It’s what he expected, especially when they’re winning the way they are, and he grabs a cup of water from the cooler, and walks through the door to go into the hallways to take him back to the locker room.

Except right when he steps inside, a blast of cool air hitting him, he sees Emma Swan and Jeff…something. He honestly can’t remember the man’s name at the moment, but he’s pretty sure it was Jeff, last name unclear. They’re very obviously waiting for him, and he stops walking to gulp down the water, letting it cool him down a bit as he takes Emma in.

She’s wearing black jeans that hug the curves of her legs and a white button down that’s tucked into the front, white sneakers gracing her feet. Her hair is down in loose waves, and his mind wonders if it’s as soft as he imagines it is.

Is it wrong for him to imagine that?

Does he have any reason to think that he should?

It’s been a week since he saw her last. Scratch that. It’s been a week since he talked to her last. He saw her on the jumbotron during the White Sox game on Friday. She was eating a hot dog, and he wonders if it’s now a thing to show her eating during games. Someone in the broadcasting office either has it out for her, or one of her coworkers has bribed someone. He can’t think of any other reason why that would keep happening.

(Even if he does have to admit that it can be funny at times since she’s not the most graceful eater.)

But he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about her in the week since he ran into her at the hotel in Houston and pretty much invited himself into eating breakfast with her. It was a bold move on his part, one that he can’t quite believe that he did, but then again, he can. When it comes to Emma Swan, he seems to both not think and overthink things all at once. He wonders if he’s allowed to admire the way her ass looks in her jeans while also sitting down at breakfast with her without any invitation and talking for two hours, only a few silences between them. It was…wonderful, actually, to truly get to know her and talk to her and know more about who she is.

He had no idea that she was a foster kid, that she doesn’t know her parents outside of David’s mom. His heart stung for her, stings for her, and how much hurt he’s sure she went through. He can’t pretend to know what that’s like. He has his own issues with losing his mom and cutting his dad out of his life, but he at least knew them.

Besides that, he had no idea that she was as witty and charming as she is, and he has no idea how he ever lived not knowing that she likes sugar too much and calls him twenty-nine. That is entirely too dramatic, but that’s how he is.

It’s been a long damn time since he’s fancied a girl for more than just her looks, and while that is what he was attracted to her at first, he actually wants to get to know her now.

If that’s what she wants. He’s not pulling any more shit like he did after the Series. He can’t do something like that again when it was such an asshole move.

“Twenty-nine,” Emma smirks, looking his way with a bright white smile on her face. That’s a smile he’d kind of like to get used to even if he knows that he can’t.

“Swan,” he nods, wiping some more sweat off of his brow and adjusting his hat, knowing better than to take it off to show the awful sweaty hair that he has going on right now. “Jeff. Am I doing an interview? Is it live?”

“It’s not live,” Emma tells him, stepping over to his side as Jeff moves around. He’s been through this routine enough times before, so he knows to back up to the wall with their roster written across it and stand on the side as Emma stands next to him. He can smell the vanilla of her perfume. “But it is an interview. You ready?”

“Always,” he winks.

She rolls her eyes before waving at Jeff for him to start the camera. “You didn’t give up any runs in five innings against the Sox. The last time you did something like that you were twenty-two years old.”

“Are you saying I’m old now?”

“Obviously. Anyways, that’s an important stat if only because this is the first of many series against your biggest rivals. Does that give you confidence for the rest of the season?”

“Eh,” he clicks his tongue, scratching behind his ear, “not really. It’s an incredibly long season with a hell of a lot of games, and this one’s not quite over yet. And what happens today can be the complete opposite of what happens tomorrow and for every game that we play after that. If anything, it gave me confidence in my arm. I think that’s the most important thing.”

Emma nods and smiles at him, listening to each of his words, and she asks him two more questions about some of his stats for tonight as well as for Eric and Arthur, and he has to run back through the game to answer them, trying to remember everything that happened. In the moment, it’s easy for him to remember everything, cataloging it all and working through it, but once all of the adrenaline has died down a bit, it’s sometimes difficult for him to recall everything.

It's a good thing Emma has a stat sheet, one she seems to have written herself.

“Thank you,” Emma sighs when they’re finished, the bright light on Jeff’s camera going off as he backs up. “Sorry for stalking you in the hallways.”

“I don’t think doing your job counts as stalking.”

“It does if I get really creative with it.”

“Well, okay then, love,” he laughs, grabbing his shirt and pulling it up to wipe some more sweat from his chin. “I hope you enjoy the rest of the game. Maybe don’t eat any more food while you’re working.”

He hears Jeff snort before the man walks away, not bothering to say goodbye to either of them. Killian is about ninety percent sure that he and Emma are friends, or at least co-workers who are fond of each other, but he has no idea when they talk. None at all. The man has to talk at some point.

“Does he speak?” Killian asks before Emma gets the opportunity to say something back to his jab about her continuously being caught on camera while eating.

“Who? Jeff? I mean, he’s not a mute,” she laughs, flipping her hair over her shoulder and sticking her microphone into the back pocket of her pants. He imagines that can’t be comfortable. “He’s just…well, he talks when he needs to and very rarely otherwise unless he’s super comfortable around you. I’ve spent years breaking him out of his shell.”

“You have?”

“Don’t be so surprised, twenty-nine. I have friends.”

“What makes you think I’m surprised?”

Emma waves her hand in the hair, circling around his face. “Your eyebrow is, like, in your hairline, and you’ve got that smirk thing that you do when you’re being all cocky and smug.”

His lips tick up a little more, and now he knows that he’s smirking. He wasn’t before, but he is now as he sways a little closer into Emma’s space, barely a foot between them. When did they get so close?

“Swan, I think you’ve been watching me, studying me really.”

Her own brows raise as her arms cross over her chest. She could kick his ass without question, and he has got to be incredibly disturbed to be fascinated by that fact. He is not supposed to be attracted to Emma Swan, not after what he did, and yet here he is.

“Yeah,” she huffs, “that’s my job. I feel like we’ve discussed this.”

“Sometimes I need a little reminding of things.”

“I thought you were smarter than that.”

“I like to surprise people. Don’t change the subject, darling,” he teases, angling his shoulder forward and invading her space as his heart ticks up a few beats. “You’ve been paying particularly close attention to me.”

“You make a good story.”

“So you’re saying I make your job easier?”

Emma scoffs, but he can see the slightest smile on her face, the annoyance simply not there. Maybe he doesn’t annoy her anymore after they had breakfast. And maybe he is being just cocky enough to make this flirting work.

That is what he’s doing, right? Flirting.

“You could say that.”

He’s an idiot, a complete idiot, who pushes his luck too far, and he’s going to blame everything on the adrenaline from here on out. There’s no other excuse for how he’s acting.

“Perhaps gratitude is in order,” he teases as he taps his bottom lip, fully expecting Emma to slap him.

Instead he watches as her lashes flutter, her eyes glancing over his lips, before she looks up to him with a challenge written across her face. “Please. You couldn’t handle it.”

She’s right. He couldn’t.

“Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it.”

Her lips part for her to speak, but no words come as she’s leaning forward and gripping her hands into his uniform, pulling on his jersey and pulling him into her until their lips are crashing together. Despite his teasing, he was in no way expecting this, and it takes him a moment to kiss Emma back, to move his lips over hers. His hands immediately find her hair, fingers threading through the soft strands, and he exhales into her mouth as he tugs on her upper lip with his mouth, listening to her moan.

Damn.

Emma Swan just moaned because of him.

She tastes like peppermint, strongly enough so that he imagines she just finished one, but he can’t really focus on that when the softest lips he’s ever felt are moving over his and the soft curves of her body are pressed into him. It’s intoxicating and exhilarating and everything all at once, and he can feel his heart pounding between his ears, the organ very obviously switching with his brain at some point because he’s forgotten how to think.

His legs shake when Emma’s tongue runs at the seam of his lips, and when he opens up to her, tilting her head to the right, her hands trail up his neck and into his hair until his hat is toppling off of his head and crashing onto the floor.

Whatever spell is between them is broken with the sound of his hat collapsing against the cement, and Emma pulls back from him with a gasp, her forehead still pressed against his so that he can feel the heat of her breath moving over his mouth.

What the hell just happened?

And can it happen again?

“That,” he starts, at a loss for words.

“Can’t happen again,” Emma finishes for him, releasing her grip on his hair and backing up so that he immediately feels chilled from the loss of heat. “I’m sorry. I – I’ve got to go.”

“Emma,” he calls out, reaching forward to grab her hand, but she’s already walking away, her strides larger than her natural gait as she moves down the hallway and disappears around the corner all the while he’s left standing there with his fingers unconsciously pressed to his lips.

[noahreids]

Beauty in the Aftermath (CS FF) | 13/14

Summary: Confronted with the sudden appearance of her birth parents, Emma, in a moment of panic, runs. She flees the diner, Storybrooke, the country. She finds herself a day later in the Dublin, Ireland Airport terminal wondering what the hell she has gotten herself into. With some fear, a little determination and a considerable amount of faking it along the way, she sets off on a trip she never planned on taking but needed more than she ever knew. She finds herself, she finds a Brit adrift on his own journey and finds out what home really means.

Rated: M (Sexual content & some Irish whiskey along the way).

Also on: AO3 | FFN Tumblr: [ 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 ] Art!: Cover | Ch.1 | Ch.3 | Ch.5 | Ch.7 | Ch.9 | Ch.14

A/N: I hope everyone had a lovely holiday season (and happy, happy New Year!) Thanks for your patience with the last chapter and the two week break. We are back with the penultimate chapter, hang in there! And just thanks for being awesome amazing people. I appreciate the heck out of each and every one of you. xo

Always thanks to @shippingtheswann for the cheering and beta work (go read her wonderful story!), @imagnifika for finding the heart of the story with her art, @halobxist & @meanderingcaptainswanmusings for everything xo. And please keep supporting all the other CSBB authors and artists. The content everyone is bringing is truly amazing.

And now what will Emma do?

Chapter 13

Night has crept over the city, aided by the thick ashen clouds and the light mist of rain slowly dampening everything it touches. The light from the streetlamps diffuse golden on the wet cobblestone streets, guiding tourists and locals alike to the overcrowded pubs and restaurants, casting spotlights on those pulling on their cigarettes and laughing with friends.

Emma doesn’t register any of it, faceless people, and nameless places, all passing in a blur. She glances around but her mind is too preoccupied with conjuring up negative scenarios, each one worse than the one before.

Maybe it was his plan to disappear all along.

He’d had enough of her mess.

Or worse yet, something has happened to him and she’s been too selfish, thinking only of herself. Should she check the hospitals?

She feels her heart pound, getting itself stuck somewhere in her throat and when she does try to gasp for breath, she freezes again at the sound of her own frantic sob, clamping her hand over her mouth. Her eyes dart around, hoping no one has taken notice and when she sees no adverse reactions, she forces herself to take a measured breath through her nose, and then another.

While she manages to keep breathing, it doesn’t stop the traitorous hot tears from continuing to escape from the corners of her eyes, rolling silently down her cheeks.

Her knees clutch tighter at her pack between her legs, as if holding onto that will somehow help her hold herself together. Crazy, but it works, or it works sufficiently enough to make her feel like she won’t shatter right then and there. When her tears begin to abate, she weakly drops her hand to her lap and sucks in a stuttered breath.

As the cooling, damp air reaches her lungs, she closes her eyes and takes a few more calming pulls. She feels the mist against her face, feels the moisture soak into her clothes and the goosebumps that spread across her skin.

For one blissful moment, her terrible thoughts fade and she sees his smile. She sees all the times Killian reached back for her, pulling her through the people, always patient, always waiting.

And she ran away.

She wipes angrily at another stray tear and forces her eyes open.

She has no idea how long she’s been sitting on the bench, or where she is, or where to look first or--

Her pulse quickens and she forces her feet to push up from the ground, lifting her from the bench, a sudden need to do something because if she doesn’t get up from that bench she might never find the strength to. She hoists her bag onto her back and groans at the weight, and it’s a weight she’s not entirely sure is just from the pack on her shoulders but she doesn’t dwell on it, at least not right away.

For now, she is determined to find a street name and a starting point, hostels. She’ll check all of them.

She fumbles for her phone and with shaky fingers, cold fingers and pulls up a google search. How many could there possibly be?

Fifty according to hostels dot com.

Fifty according to hostelworld dot com.

At least forty-five in her guidebook.

And while many overlap, some don’t, so where does that leave her? She’s too tired to do the math but without any other plan, she sets off towards the closest red dot on her map, her steps slow but determined.

xo

Her head falls lower and her heart drops further in her chest every time there is no man with dark messy hair in the lobbies she searches. Each confused look from front desk clerks and each time there is no account of a tall man with a British accent her hope shrinks. There is no sign of him anywhere.

She’s walked for hours, until most places were full up and closed, or quiet for the night. She walked until her clothes are soaked through and her back aches.

Some clerks are too busy or too tired to care, some clearly think she is crazy, while others who get a better look at her red rimmed eyes and hesitant questions do take more time to really think before shaking their heads.

A few offer suggestions of where she might look and promise to call if they do see him -- she hesitates on what to call him. Boyfriend seemed silly, friend isn’t enough, other words tie her stomach in knots and yet --

“He’s just -- mine. My Killian,” she whispers to yet another sad ‘no’ but before she can step away from the counter, the older gentleman at the desk covers her chilled hand with his.

“Why don’t you sit down and warm up a little?”

Emma eyes the front door, knowing only rain and darkness await her. And the overwhelming feeling she is no closer to finding Killian that she had been at the start begins to creep back in. For all she knows, they’ve been going in opposite directions, or he could be fast asleep somewhere warm, or on a bus travelling further away from her as the seconds tick by.

A shiver racks her body.

“I’ll fetch you some tea and you can just rest a moment. If he hasn’t been in yet, I’m sure he’ll be by soon. You wouldn’t want to miss him and I can imagine how frantically he must be looking for you.”

A weathered hand squeezes hers.

“I don’t know.”

“I’ll be but a moment. I promise.”

Emma spots an overstuffed chair in the corner, faded red plaid material, a thick blanket draped across the back. She can see herself curling up in it and sleeping for days, sleeping until this nightmare is over.

“Have a seat.”

Emma finally relents, her pack a burden she can no longer hold up. She drags her wet sneakered feet to the corner of the room, and unceremoniously dumps her bag on the floor but hesitates before sitting down.

“Don’t worry about your wet clothes, it’s only water afterall.”

She turns to find the man watching her patiently before leaving her with a wink.

It’s only another beat before she finally collapses into the chair, feeling swallowed up by the plush material. She feels small and alone. She kicks her shoes off and draws her feet up, resting her forehead against her knees.

It’s only when she hears the tea cup settle on the coffee table beside her that she looks up.

He’s brought her tea and a slice of coffee cake and she could very well cry at the kindness.

“Just remember, while there is tea, there is hope.”

She doesn’t know what to say. She doesn’t know if she can find the right words and she doesn’t know how much hope she has left. The man seems to sense that, so his next move seems more cautious. He hesitates but finally moves slowly to reach into his back pocket and produces a postcard. He holds it close while he searches for his words.

“I think some might think the act of writing love letters is silly or outdated but I still think it’s the best way to say something we might be afraid of saying out loud. Perhaps while you wait for your young man to show up, you can write him a note?”

Emma blinks at him, wondering how he could know her so well. How he could have found exactly what she needed.

She reaches out for the postcard and holds it to her heart long after the man has retreated back to his perch behind the desk. She closes her eyes and knows, if her heart could press the words onto the card, what they would be, she just needs to take that next step and write them herself.

She takes a moment to test them in her mind, to feel the sureness of them before opening her eyes and reaching into her pack. It’s while she is searching for her pen that her fingers brush against the envelope tucked deep inside her bag.

And somehow, for some reason, this time she doesn’t feel the swift paralyzing panic. This time it whispers of hope, of finding lost things, which is something she could really cling to right now, and so she doesn’t push it further down into her pack. No, this time she grips it hard with both hands and abruptly tugs it loose.

It falls into her lap, while her pen flies out, sliding across the floor, taking a lone white sock and a hair tie along for the ride. She scrambles to pick them up, shoving the items back in her bag but keeps the envelope and pen close.

She huffs out a breath and lays the envelope flat on her lap, along with the postcard, her emotions warring on what she wants to attempt first. She knows the words she wants to write, feels them, wishes she could could say them to him right now and yet, her hand trembles when she picks up the pen. So she tucks the card between her and the chair and flips the envelope over. And as she did when she first received the package, she draws her fingers across her handwritten name, trying to imagine the woman with the hopeful eyes write it out as carefully as can be, knowing her daughter was going to see it one day. She wonders if the woman herself had drawn a finger over the cursive. She wonders if there is a resemblance to her own writing.

She looks at each letter carefully. Maybe the letter m, perhaps the a.

She shakes her head at her wandering thoughts and reaches a trembling hand out for her tea, savouring the rich flavour as it warms her from the inside out. Her breathing comes easier after another sip and she thinks for a moment that the old man might be right, maybe there is a little bit of hope infused in every cup of tea.

She rests the cup back in the saucer, and with determination finally flips the envelope over, fingers slowly and carefully breaking the seal. There is a part of her that knows that she won’t find all the answers or the peace she is looking for inside that envelope, probably far from it. But if two people, who claim to be her parents, can find her after all this time, want to find her. Maybe there is hope for her yet.

Instead of hesitating any further, Emma lifts the envelope high and dumps the contents onto her lap.

Legal documents, handwritten letters, newspaper clippings, and pictures, dozens of pictures, scatter across her lap. Emma carefully moves the papers around, catching a few words here; confidential adoption, dozens of Dear Emmas, but it’s the pictures that give her pause.

She recognizes the same couple in all of them, it seems to be a timeline of their life, from their adolescent years to some as recent as they looked in the diner that day.

Emma gasps as a small picture slips from the others.

She only has a handful of pictures of herself as a child, never staying with a family long enough to fill an album, uninterested in keeping many mementoes of those years. She certainly had no pictures of herself as a baby.

But.

But one thing has stayed with her all these years, a blanket. A carefully knit, wool, baby blanket, white as snow, a purple ribbon around the edges, the simply trimming, along with her name stitched across the top.

The same blanket she is looking at in an old weathered picture, wrapped tightly around a crying baby.

Impossible.

And yet she is looking at it with her own eyes. Looking at herself.

She fumbles through the papers, frantically searching for an explanation.

She finds it in the form of the most recent ‘Dear Emma’.

Emma’s eyes blur with tears as she tries to read, tries to understand an insane story of two young people falling in love against their parents’ wishes, of finding out they were pregnant and only wanting to give their daughter her best chance. A deceitful father promising to find the perfect family for their newborn, a family that promised to visit and send pictures and let them see at least a glimpse of their daughter growing up. Only to have been lying all along, selling the baby to the highest desperate bidders.

Emma can’t begin to understand the impossible story, the heartbreak, all those words on the pages but she does keep coming back to a certain few.

We never stopped looking for you.

We never stopped loving you.

We always had hope we would find you again.

Her chest tightens. It’s all so much, maybe too much? And she is not sure if she wants to jump in with both feet and brave the unknown, or stuff it all back in the envelope and pretend like she never read any of it.

Killian would know what to do, she thinks. He would take her hand and tell her how strong and brave and capable she is. He would believe in her when she can’t find it in herself to do it.

Are they angry she hasn’t answered them? No, I’m sure they would understand, she remembers him telling her.

What if they don’t like me? Impossible, he would press into her skin, whispered words against her forehead, calming her worries and racing heart.

She looks down at the spread of papers in her lap and a thought so strong comes to her, nearly knocking the breath from her lungs. It’s not the why, or the heartbreaking story of how she was pulled away from her parents, it’s not the proof in the pictures either. It’s that, these two people never gave up, that they deemed her, Emma Swan, important enough to look for, to hope for, to love. That she was never really alone.

Her emotions bubble back up at that thought, and she thinks, she’s not alone now. That Killian is out there, she just needs to find him, to not give up, because she lo--

She presses the heels of her hands into her eyes until she see stars.

Think, Emma.

Her mind races through where she’s already been, she thinks of the hostels she hasn’t checked yet.

She could call, she could try and retrace her steps once more, she could put an ad on Craigslist. Her heart picks up at the possibilities, and she feels a little foolish having not gone through her options earlier, ruled purely by her heart and panic.

But first…

She pulls the postcard out again, more determined than ever and takes in the photograph on the front. The card carries a standard beautiful shot of the Cliffs of Moher but there’s a text overlay, relaying an assortment of random facts about Ireland.

84,421 square kilometres.

4,726,000 people.

5,500,000 sheep.

Emma finds a brief moment to smile, thinking back to the sheep and flips the card over, her words flowing with surprising ease.

How many miles have we traveled?

How many people and places have we seen?

How many stories will remain with us when this is through?

I’m not sure, save for one.

I love you. I do, I do.

She drops the pen and leans her head back against the chair, eyes on her messy handwriting. She presses a kiss to her fingers and then brings them to her words.

“Emma!”

--

Thanks for reading!

Who do you think is there? 

One more to go!! xoxo

[artistic-writer]

Fragments of Home :: CS AU :: E :: Chapter 10

Title: Fragments of Home by @artistic-writer

Summary: Emma Swan must return home to her childhood town of Storybrooke when her mother dies and stays in the house left to her and her brother, David Nolan. Emma must juggle a temporary job at the hospital with her loss, something that has made her feel smaller than she ever was. When a tall, dark, handsome stranger comes into her life in the most unexpected way, and she begins to fall in love, will she stay in Storybrooke, or return to her new life back in New York?

Rating: E

Previous: Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 5 - Ch 6 - Ch 7 - Ch 8 - Ch 9

Also on: AO3 - FF

A/N: 2 for 1 on story updates! Woo!  This one is a bit shorter than the last, which was a monster compared to others, but I warn you, this chapter has lots of feels and a plot twist squeezed into its modest length.  My chatbox is awaiting your yelling. Many thanks to my lovely beta, @kmomof4 who persuaded me that this would work as a CS fic in the first place. 

I don’t think it would be a problem, but just in case, this chapter features graphic descriptions of extubation. Readers be advised.

Taglist: @kmomof4 @resident-of-storybrooke @thislassishooked @hollyethecurious @deathbycaptainswan @branlovesouat @delightfully-difficult-pirate @flipperbrain @wordsmith-storyweaver @jennjenn615 @doodlelolly0910 

——————————————————————————————

“Stop it,” Killian grumbled, peeling one eye open to look at Emma. She smiled sweetly and watched the particles of dust flutter in the sunlight spreading itself across Killian's face. He squinted and rolled over onto his side with a groan, his face pressing itself into the cool, crisp pillow. Emma was laying on her front, propped up on her elbows, her entire body glowing in the daybreak sunlight as she laid beside him naked.

“Stop what?” Emma whispered, shuffling herself forward so she was closer to him. Killian could smell her and inhaled deeply with a yawn, savouring the way she invaded his senses with her familiar post-coital scent. Finally opening both eyes, Killian's gaze flicked over her body with a smirk, the smoothness of her behind absorbing the heat of the sun. Instinct told Killian to reach out and his hands itched to feel her skin against his.

“You seem to have an obsession with watching me sleep,” he quipped huskily. Killian's hand snaked out of the crisp white sheets and brushed a lock of Emma's sun drenched hair behind her ear. It was soft and messy, but unmistakably that which he enjoyed so much.

Emma leaned into Killian touch, shivering as he trailed his long, skilled fingers down her neck. Emma's eyes fluttered closed and the familiar, welcome ache in her bones crept up her spine. “But I like-,” Emma gulped, her words cut off when Killian's lips made contact with her skin as he kissed her arm, humming with a smirk when he heard her gasp.

Killian rolled his weight forward, pushing gently against Emma’s shoulder, his hand drawing lazy circles on the delicate skin. The room was warm, even warmer in the sunlight that tumbled across the whiteness of the bedsheets, and Emma fell backwards onto the downy pillows with a silent laugh. Killian's fingers danced down her arm, jumping to the soft curve of the side of her breast where his hands paused against her skin.

“You like?” Killian teased, watching Emma's expression as she writhed beneath his touch. Emma's back arched off the bed, pressing the hardness of her blushed nipples into Killian's palms, his breath ghosting over the buds.

Emma gulped, squeezing her eyes tightly closed when she felt the longing between her thighs ignite. Her skin burned but she wasn't sure if it was because Killian set her ablaze with passion or the sun had crept to her side of the bed already. Killian smirked, rolling Emma's nipple under his thumb and leaning down to kiss at the sensitive skin of her collarbone. Emma's hair tickled at his face, catching in the week old growth that littered his jaw.

“Killian,” Emma whimpered, her voice barely audible through his kisses. “Don't stop,” she breathed, her hands reaching for his head and holding his lips to her skin with a firm grip in his sleep messed hair.

“I’ll never stop,” Killian panted against her, the words leaving a damp residue on her skin as he made his way down her throat.

“Don't leave me,” Emma whispered and Killian frowned against her sternum, her words confusing him as he tore his mouth from her skin, noticing the room had been dulled by the sunlight disappearing. Killian pulled back to look down at Emma, her skin turning ashen and grey under his touch and he pulled his fingers away as it changed, rolling away from her and panic filling his body.

“Don't let me go,” Emma pleaded, her eyes filling with the salty water of tears.

“I won't,” Killian stammered, shaking his head. His heart beat faster in his chest, thundering painfully in his ears and his eyes tried desperately to focus on Emma's as they crumbled from her face.

“Don't give up on me,” Emma's words echoed, almost distant despite her being so close to him. Killian flushed hot, jumping from the bedsheets as Emma's lithe figure began to twist and distort before him. Her already pale skin turned darker, cracks visibly appearing like dark chasms all over her body and when Emma reached out a precariously fragile hand, her fingers began to fall away, leaving a sprinkle of dark, black and white ash on the pristine bedsheets.

“Emma!” Killian shouted, the room falling dark around him. The perfect, white window frame fell away, falling from view with a cracking sound. The ceiling pulled away and Killian watched it fly off into a never ending sky, overcast with blackness and rumbling with thunder. Killian took a shaky step back, watching the previously inviting wooden flooring beneath his feet splinter and shard in all directions.

“Killian.” Emma's voice faded away, further and further on each pleading gasp. “Killian,” she cried, the sound barely leaving her mouth before her beautiful face dissolved into a volcanic heap on the pillow.

“Killian!” His name echoed loudly in the air, clashing with the roll of thunder and a flash of lightning. Killian flinched at the sound and he saw a flash of white behind his eyes as he pinched them closed and let the world swallow him whole.

Killian jumped in his seat, his head slipping from his hand and jolting him awake. It was a nightmare, so vivid and real to him that Killian's body had responded by sweating and sticking his shirt to his skin. After hours of waiting, worrying, the material had become as ragged and aged as Killian felt. He blinked rapidly, flashes of Emma's charred remains and shrieks of despair ingrained on his memory. Killian never wanted to feel the loss he did right now, and it had only been a dream that had made him feel this way. The reality of right now was far scarier.

The slow hum of machines and the rhythmic beep of Emma's monitored heartbeat filled the room, reminding Killian where he was. He glanced around and noticed the darkness outside of the window, the town lights of Storybrooke like amber candles along the streets. A few noises outside of the room caught his attention, and Killian snapped his head in the direction of two talking doctors, discussing a patient beyond the huge glass doors. The privacy curtains were pulled together, but he could make out their conversation through a tiny gap in the rough, white material.

Killian relaxed back into his seat, his hot skin cooling against the vinyl. “It was only a dream,” he told himself tiredly. Killian sighed, covering his face with his slightly sweaty hands and dragging them over his face with a yawn. His mind raced with the image of Emma fading to ash again and hot goosebumps prickled his skin. Killian cast a weary, sorrowful glance upon the real Emma before him and couldn't fight the pang in his heart.

Emma was still unconscious, her features unchanged and the machine still breathing for her with a forced rise and fall of her chest. Her skin was pale, slightly swollen around her eyes and cheeks, but she was there, real and palpable. So many of Killian's questions remained unanswered by her silence and with each huff of the ventilator, his heart wrenched in his chest. Killian grabbed the warm, wooden handles on the chair and shuffled it forward, bumping his knees against the plastic bed frame, ignoring the dull pain shooting through his legs. He laid his hand on Emma's arm, drawing deliberate lines across her forearm with his thumb. Even in slumber, Emma's body reacted to his touch, and her skin turning tiny bumps under his fingertips.

“Oh, Emma,” Killian breathed, lifting Emma's heavy hand from the sheets and kissing her knuckles. There was a small graze to the skin there, probably inflicted when she fell, and Killian wished he had been able to catch her. Killian would always catch her if she let him. The scuffed skin had started to heal already and Killian wondered how long he had been asleep. He tilted his wrist, and flashed a glance at his watch, the smeared glass face reflecting his tired features back at him. It was seven in the evening; nine hours since Emma had fainted.

“Come back to me,” he breathed faintly, giving her hand a tiny squeeze. “I need you to be alright.”

The door to Emma's room was suddenly pulled open and a doctor breezed in, his head tilted down and his eyes busily searching over Emma's electronic notes in front of him. His white coat whipped behind him and a short, blonde nurse that followed him slid the glass door closed behind them. He was probably nearing retirement, his balding head littered with only the smallest smattering of silvery grey fuzz. Killian reluctantly dropped Emma's hand and stood up from his chair awkwardly, pushing it back from the bed with a scraping noise. He barely had time to dry the clamminess from his hands on his pants before the Doctor offered him a hand.

“I'm Dr Mendez,” he chirped, not letting his gaze meet Killian's once.

“Killian.” Killian gave him his hand and they shook stiffly. “Killian Jones.”

“How is our patient doing?” Dr Mendez asked half to Killian and half to the nurse at his side. She was a rounded lady, her hips and shoulders the same width and her short, stubby arms fiddled with the flow of Emma's IV.

Killian watched Dr Mendez as he walked around the other side of the bed, flicking his eyes over the numbers and lines on Emma's monitors. “She hasn't moved, or said anything,” Killian said sadly, rubbing his hand together in front of him nervously. Any second now he was expecting to be ejected from the room when the staff found out he wasn't family.

“Well, she is in a medically induced coma, Mr Jones.” The doctor peered at him with a narrowed gaze, mentally noting the difference in surnames. “She won't wake up yet.” Dr Mendez nodded towards the nurse and she nodded back, a silent gesture they had obviously both practised many times before.

“Why? When will she?” Killian pried, concern rushing into his veins. “I need to-.” He paused, biting his tongue. He had so much to say to her, to prove to her, and he felt like it had all been ripped away from him so suddenly. “I just need her,” Killian sighed, rubbing a single finger over the skin behind his ear.

Dr. Mendez stopped and looked at Killian, halting his hurried questioning. He had lots of patients, too many if he was honest, but the tone of sadness in Killian's voice made him stop for a second. Delivering news was easier when it was good news. Finally, he turned his head to meet Killian's wide-eyed stare and offered him a soft smile.

“We are going to monitor her for the next few hours, but so far she has responded well to the antibiotics we have given her.” Dr Mendez folded his arms over his chest as he spoke, taking in the broken shell of a man in front of him. Killian didn't respond, waiting for more information that the doctor might have to give. “I know this seems extreme, but she has a rare complication from her pneumonia, and this is for the best. We caught the pneumonia early,” he offered with a tight-lipped smile.

“Can she hear me?” Killian asked and Dr Mendez nodded with a smile.

“Most patients that have been in a coma say they could hear the voices of their families,” he said, not committing to any answers that might give Killian any hope or take any away.

“When they woke up,” Killian confirmed to himself. Dr Mendez swallowed hard and fiddled with his name tag. It was plastic with a metal swivel that had become twisted, and he straightened it up against his pocket.

“Miss Swan is strong,” he said confidently. “It won’t be long and she'll be off the machines.”

“So, she'll be okay?” Killian's eyes fell back on Emma's tired frame, and he swore her hair had lost most of its colour. The colour was greyer, muted and her lips were dry and cracking underneath the tube. Killian stepped closer to her, gulping a lump down his throat as he reached out a tentative hand and stroked Emma's messy hair flat.

“This is all a precaution.” Dr Mendez motioned around, pointing the equipment out to Killian as he spoke. “We are breathing for her to reduce the risk of permanent damage to her lungs.” Whilst he spoke, the nurse busied herself with inputting data to Emma's chart held on the tablet in her hands.

“Or the baby's,” the nurse mumbled sweetly lifting her gaze from the bright screen of the tablet with a soft smile.

Killian nodded as they spoke but he didn't hear the words after what the nurse has just revealed. Killian's gaze was fixated on Emma's chest, the gentle rise and fall simulated in time with his ragged breathing. It hitched in his throat, the overwhelming urge to cry pricking in his eyes once more. Adrenaline coursed through his body, Killian's entire body tingling with fear and his heart changing its beat with love for a child he hadn't even met or even knew had existed until just now.

“Thank you,” Killian offered weakly not looking at the doctor or the nurse.

“We'll give you some privacy,” the doctor offered back, motioning the nurse to follow him from the room.

Killian ignored the sounds of the hospital when the door opened, and heaved a breath, blowing out a huge rattled sigh as the tears fell. The nurse's words bounced around Killian's brain and he stilled his hand in Emma's hair. Light, nimble fingers rubbed some of the soft curls between their tips, and a silly gasp escaped Killian's chest.

“Did you know?” Killian smiled sweetly towards Emma's unresponsive face. He turned over his warmed hand and brushed his knuckles down the side of her cheek. Emma's skin was cool to the touch and a little oily from her fever.

“I mean, you would have told me, right?” Killian quizzed, his brow knitting together in a frown. “Of course you would have,” Killian scolded himself instantly, shaking his head a little. There was no sound to reassure him of his words, only his own mutterings and the regular beep of the machines. His body tensed and his gut fell away from him, the uncertainty of his future suddenly very real. Their future.

“Do you even want kids?” Killian's questions came thick and fast, tumbling from his mouth like water over a fall. “We haven't talked about it.” And why would they? They had barely dated.

“How many? Do you want a boy or a girl? Will you go back to work afterwards? What will we tell other people? Have you thought of names?” Killian rambled, his voice jumping and hitching as he became a little irritated by the one-sided conversation. He ran a quick hand through his hair, scratching at the back of his ear harshly with his blunt fingernails.

“I can't believe you didn't tell me,” Killian exclaimed sadly, his hand languishing slow trails up and down Emma's arm. “Were you angry at me?” Killian waited but Emma returned no answer. Killian watched her, his eyes skimming over her face for any sign she was listening. Emma's eyes rolled under her eyelids, a remnant of the deepest induced sleep she was hidden in.

The whole misunderstanding with Shelley weighed heavy on Killian's mind and he swallowed his sadness down with a gulp. There had been hardly any time to explain, to ease Emma's worries and fears, and Killian felt a sudden distaste for himself in his mouth. He couldn't live with himself knowing that Emma had known she was pregnant and hadn't told him because she was angry. It was all his fault. If only he had worked things out earlier. Killian was one hundred percent sure Emma, however incensed with him, would never have held this sort of information from him. She was good, and pure and innocent.

“You didn't know, did you, love?” Killian's question fell on deaf ears and he got no response from Emma's lifeless body. Killian's lip quivered and he bit down on the flesh until it turned white. “You don't know,” he confirmed sadly.

Killian took a step back and dropped back into the chair behind him. The flimsy vinyl creaked under his weight as he shifted around uncomfortably. Killian reached out and gripped Emma's thin wrist in his nimble fingers, smoothing his thumb over the soft skin there and tracing the outline of the petal on her tattoo. Killian thought it felt warmer than it had before, but it was probably just Emma's fever.

“I promise you, anything you need, anything the baby needs,” Killian's words trailed off and his lips twitched into a thin, sideways smile. He was going to be a father and although woefully underprepared, his tension was laced with excitement. “We made a baby,” he giggled nervously, leaning forward and pressing his lips to her damp forehead.

“Emma,” Killian began, dropping his face to her ear and stretching out his palm over her flat stomach where life had yet to show. “I love you.”

Killian's head whipped up, the high-pitched whirr of an alarm sounding from Emma's heart monitor filling the room. There was a little red light flashing on top of the screen, and Killian watched the numbers in the corner start to increase. Killian pulled his hand from her body as she began to heave, her whole body going rigid and arching itself from the bed. Emma's eyes shot open, watery and bloodshot, and she fixed her gaze on Killian's petrified expression. “Emma,” he breathed, rushing closer to her so hard that he cracked his skull on an overhead swing arm lamp. He winced but ignored the pain when his forehead began to throb.

Emma struggled, her weak limbs swinging wildly by her face, grabbing for the offending tube down her throat. Her tingling fingers scratched numbly at the clear plastic, her eyes wide with panic. Emma was dazed, still heavily drugged and confused, and she didn't understand what was happening. She couldn't breathe, her throat was stretched by the medical equipment that had been breathing for her, and now her lungs were scorched by the red hot pain of the need to inhale.

Emma shook her head from side to side, her hair flicking wildly on the pillow where she lay. Adrenaline surged through her, prickling uninvited heat over her skin, and Emma wretched and heaved. She could barely focus through the tears in her eyes and the world went fuzzy around the edges of her vision. With what felt like her last ounce of energy, Emma lifted her arms and reached for Killian, eager to free her lungs from the searing pain, silently begging him to call her her doctor.

“Emma, no!” Killian soothed quickly, sure she would grab for her tube. He grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the bed. “It's alright,” he nodded quickly, his own breath quickening with the increase in Emma's heartbeat. “Can somebody help?!” He called out hysterically, shooting a quick glance to the doors, and no sooner had the words left his mouth, a gaggle of nurses and Dr Mendez rushed into the room.

Emma struggled against him, an unknown strength finding her suddenly, and Killian turned back to her, holding her gaze. He placed a quivering palm to her cheek, smoothing away her tears with the soft pad of his thumb, his heart thumping in his chest so fiercely he thought he might have a heart attack. “I'm here, love. It's alright, I promise.” Killian felt Emma relax, a single tear falling from her eyelids and rolling down her cheek as she nodded slowly in compliance.

“Step aside!” Dr Mendez snipped, shoving Killian aside with a gentle elbow. Killian staggered backwards, his rubber-soled shoes scuffing against the tiled floor. He fumbled blindly with his shirt sleeves, wrenching them up to expose his inked arms and bunching them over his elbow. Killian's sweaty palms found his face, clinging to the sides of his cheeks as he helplessly watched the swarm of medical staff around Emma.

“Emma. Emma, my name is Dr Mendez,” the doctor said softly, his words short and curt and his breath hot against the skin of her cheek. Leaning closer still, Dr Mendez pointed and instructed his staff in the right direction for what was to come. “You have a tube down your throat, so we need you to breathe out of your nose, okay?” He waited for Emma to nod at him, her eyes full of understanding but no less scared. “It's okay,” he soothed. “It will be out soon.”

One of the nurses, one Killian had not met before, ran over to the ventilator and switch it off. The machine powered down with a dizzy hum, its lights going out with a blink. The same nurse, dressed in different coloured scrubs to the others, quickly detached the tube connection with a click and let the rubbery pipes fall to the floor. It hit the ground silently and was crushed under her weight when the nurse stepped forward even closer to the bed.

“Now, honey,” she began, her thick, southern drawl tumbling from her mouth fast and messily. “I'm going to sit you up and when I tell you, I want you to cough for me, okay?” Her words were almost a blur and Emma barely made any out through the echo in her ears. Emma shot a quick wide-eyed glance at Killian, urging him silently to help her. She was gulping for breath, struggling to calm her breathing through her nose as it filled up mucus.

Two nurses sat Emma up, her bed creaking under the strain of its electric motor. Another nurse flicked on the lights, the whole room flooded with a sterile, white hue. Emma pinched her eyes closed, the light stinging behind her eyelids. Her hands found the bed rails and Emma held on, gripping the off-white plastic, her patience for the obstruction in her throat waning fast.

“Emma, honey, you’ve been in an induced coma and we are going to extubate you,” the lead nurse continued. “Do you know what that means, sweetie?” The nurse was kind, her words soothing and she brushed a tendril of hair from Emma's sticky forehead tenderly.

Emma calmed. Of course she did, she was a doctor after all. And this was a test, to see how well Emma could communicate and show cognitive function. It was one of the ways doctors knew if a patient was ready to breathe on their own. Emma could hear Killian, but she couldn't see him through the wall of nurses. Her mind was torn between thinking like a doctor and thinking like a patient, scared one minute and then feeling brave the next.

“Help her!” Killian snapped, his temper and frustration bursting into the room. He was done with standing on the sidelines. He was done pretending to be family just to see Emma. Technically now, he was family, and the urge to protect both Emma and the baby was uncontrollable. “She can't breathe, damn it!”

“Sir, I need you to calm down,” Dr Mendez took a step towards Killian, blocking his view of Emma. Another nurse stepped between them, crowding Emma's bed until she was completely hidden.

“Don't tell me to calm down!” Killian growled throwing his hands up into the air. “I'm done being calm!”

“Sir, you can't shout in here!” One of the nurses chimed in lifting a wall mounted telephone receiver. She kept an eye on Killian whilst dialling a few figures with a stiff, gloved finger. “Security,” she spoke into the handle, her one-word answer a statement.

Killian shook off a tall, thin male nurse who grabbed his shoulder. “Get off me!” he snapped, wrenching his shoulder forward and eyeing the sheepish nurse. “Touch me again-,” Killian gruffed low, but his words were cut off by the sound of Emma suddenly gulping a huge desperate breath.

Killian instantly softened, his cheeks flushing red with a mixture of nerves and adoration. His instant calm was noticed and Dr Mendez wove a dismissing hand towards the nurse on the phone. She uttered a few words, following orders but still suspicious of Killian's rage, and told security things were now fine.

Emma's body shook as she coughed, her eyes streaming with yet more tears. One of the nurses dabbed at her tears with a small piece of scratchy paper towel, but Emma welcomed the feel of it against her skin. It meant she was awake, but she could not remember how she had got here, and as the sea of staff parted in front of her, Emma finally focused on what she wanted to see the most.

“Killian,” she croaked, a tiny weak smile curling her lips. Killian's face spread into a sprightly grin and he heaved a sigh of relief at her words. Emma saying his name was everything. It meant so much and the wash of comfort that accompanied it was all Killian needed right now.

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[acatex]

Hey Snarklings!

  Are you surprised that I’m still alive? I know I am (lols am I even relevant anymore?) Before I get into my whole MCAT prep strategy, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for leaving you guys in the dust. I have been very stressed lately and I just felt like I was letting you guys down which was why I made a really hard (but spontaneous) decision on my academic career. Of course I cannot comment right now on what I did/planning to do, but an upcoming blog post would be up in the next couple of days to explain the whole grey area that I was stuck in. Okay, it’s time to put away the tissue boxes and dive into every pre-meds worse nightmare: The Medical College Admissions Test (MCAT)

Disclaimer: This is my method and it may or may not work for you, so please take it with a grain of salt because, the way that I learn may be different from you, but it is a good idea to see how others approach this scary test.

What is the MCAT?

In short, the MCAT is a standardized test taken on a computer program to measure a prospective medical student’s potential to succeed medical school. Think of it as foreshadow of one’s ability to do well on painstakingly long exams that are cut up into blocks: Since most of medical schools in the US and Canada require doctors in training to take many board exams that can be 8-9 hours long.

Another reason why the MCAT is administered is to see whether the applicant can use background knowledge of the subject (biochemistry, biology, chemistry, psychology/sociology, physics, critical reasoning skills, etc) and integrate with other sciences to synthesize and draw an objective answer to a novel/unknown situation. This makes the MCAT different from others standardized tests such as SAT or ACT since these tests are more on memory recall and regurgitation, while the MCAT is more on integration and application to unknown situations. Think of it like this, when a doctor walks into a patient’s room, they know some things (the knowledge they’ve been taught in med school) and there’s probably things that they don’t know about a patient’s health, but when a doctor integrates what he/she knows and connect it to the unknown they can solve problems.

  What is the MCAT tested on?

Since, one of the reasons why the MCAT is administered is to test your endurance on future medical school board exams such as: USMLE step 1, step 2 CK, step 2 CS, Step 3  if you are in the United States or the MCCEE, NAC, MCCQE part 1, MCCQE part 2 in (Canadian boards), and Comlex Level 1, Level 2CE, Level 2PE, Level 3 (Osteopathic med schools/DO). They do this by testing you on undergraduate courses and are broken down into 4 sections/blocks

Chemical and Physical Foundations of Biological Systems

Critical Analysis and Reasoning Skills (CARS)

Biological and Biochemical Foundations of Living Systems

Psychological, Social and Biological Foundations of Behaviour

  Prior to Taking the MCAT

I highly recommend taking the required courses before taking the MCAT. The AAMC recommends to take the following pre-med classes:

Introductory (first year) Biology (2 semesters/1 year)

Introductory/General Chemistry (2 semesters/1 year)

Organic chemistry (2 semesters/1 year)

Biochemistry (1 semester)

Introductory Physics (2 semesters/1 year)

Psychology (1 semester)

Sociology (1 semester)

Now I never took a sociology class and I am planning on taking physics in my upcoming (and last) school year of uni. But that doesn’t really matter since you can just self study for it.

  Resources?

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So MCAT prep cannot be MCAT prep without a good set of MCAT books for you to review on. Now, there are many MCAT companies out there and a lot of people are confused on which one they would get to the point that everyone keeps on asking the same question: What books are YOU using? Hey, are those books good? Listen, your success on the MCAT does not depend on what company that you choose to get your books from. Why? Because it is you and how well you reviewed and practice those questions on a DAILY BASIS. I know people who got into med school by using Kaplan, I know people who got rejected who used Kaplan, and the same goes for other prep companies such as The Princeton Review, Examkrackers, The Berkely Review, etc. It doesn’t matter. Just pick one and stick with one. Do not. I repeat. DO NOT BUY TWO BOOKS OF THE SAME SUBJECT BECAUSE YOU THINK THAT ONE COMPANY DOES A BETTER “JOB.’ Again, It is you who will determine your own success, not a book.

Now, for me, I was about to buy the Kaplan MCAT series but, my mother surpised me on my 21st birthday with the NextStep MCAT Content Review and Practice Passages. At first, I was bummed out but as I went along, I realized that the books are doing its job: Helping me review what I learned in undergrad (wipes tears away; literally every time I turn a page I get flashbacks). And the best part is: It was free since it was my birthday gift so I did not have to spend a dime.

When I found something that I did not fully understand or the book did not give me a detailed answer I usually used Khan Academy videos (There’s a whole section just for the MCAT with practice problems). Other videos/channels worth mentioning:

AK Lectures for biochemistry and general chemistry (his explanations for thermodynamics is so straight to the point, they’re super clutch)

The Organic Chemistry Tutor: MCAT Test Prep General Chemistry Review Study Guide Part 1 and MCAT General Chemistry Lectures Review Prep Part 2 – Equations & Practice Questions

Leah4SciMCAT for doing MCAT Math Without a Calculator and Amino Acids for MCAT/Biochem students. I also looked at Fischer Projections for MCAT Orgo and Biochemistry which helped so much since she sues fun mnemonics and straight to the point concepts that just makes the learning fun and easy.

Bozeman science for their anatomy and physiology sections for every organ system mentioned in the biology MCAT book. I also looked at a video or two from the AP chemistry, AP biology, and AP physics (which I remembered fondly back in high school and so I’m familiar with them thus, I didn’t look at every video but just ones that I had trouble with, ex: transcription vs translation.)

  My method for studying: I tend to study in rotations or two chapters of the same subject a day until completion. The image below is how that looks like in my mini day planner:

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Since I do not have a job nor am I in school during the summer I was able to study for 8 hours a day and found myself going through rotations quicker than I expected. Before I go to bed I reviewed what I learned and anything that I do not finished I would have to finish in the morning before starting a new rotation.

  Active Learning

So when I start a new chapter I use my metacognitive abilities: What do I know vs what do I don’t know.

Let’s take the endocrine system as an example. I know that the endocrine is invovled in hormone secretion and regulation of the metabolic oathways that maintains homeostasis. I know an example of this would be aldosterone (a steroid hormone) and vasopressin (a peptide) hormone helps regulate homeostasis by repsonding to low fluid levels and by increasing fluid retention. But what I do not know is how exactly they achieve this: thus when I’m studying that’s my goal or my purpose. I am learning to apply and find answers to my questions.

Every time a paragraph says something about a hormone I would turn it into a question and write the answer in my own words. Here’s an example on tropic versus non tropic hormones:

In orange I wrote the section of the chapter: Regulation

I wrote a capital Q for question and A for answer.

And sometimes I write a little flow chart for easy summary of what I learned

The reason why I used this system was for 3 reasons: (1) By writing out the section in a different colour, it acts as a study guide (you know with all the topics/questions pertaining to one part of the chapter for a test). (2) Turning the info in a paragraph into a question and answers makes it interactive and makes you think about what you are learning; sort of like flashcards. I would cover the answer portion with another piece of paper and just talk/aggressively whisper out the answer (the answer doesn’t have to be word by word but just similar to what it is). (3) When it is time for revision: Your notes are in a Q/A format or like test which is better than writing a bunch of notes and just passively looking over.

Here’s another one on the hypothalamus-anterior pituitary-adrenal cortex axis (HPA)

As you can see I love flow charts for sequential pathways and showing the cause and effects of each step (what increases or decreases, which hormone is involved, etc)

I will write a more detailed post on what I put into my MCAT notebooks and what I look for when reading or extracting information from the review books. So just hold on and be patient.

  Practice, Practice, Practice

Knowledge is power but practice makes perfect. Remember that the MCAT will not really test your ability to recall facts straight from the book; this is not a trivia show. It is your ability to apply known information (your MCAT content review) and integrate them with other information in an unknown situation (the MCAT passages). That’s why I like that my MCAT books have practice passages at the end of each chapter. I also bought extra practice passages from NextStep because they really do help me understand the content and the timing. If you do not have practice passages right now, go to the Khan academy MCAT section and there’s loads of them (but they are really easy though).

Also, I really enjoyed watching videos on YouTube on how to approach passages and seeing what other people’s strategies and methods are. I tend to integrate what others do with my own method, but everyone is different so just take it with a grain of salt. Here are a couple of my favorite Youtubers, one of which is actually my best friend.

Amanda and Rich Show: MCAT Biology Passage Breakdown

CurveSetter: MCAT 2015 Biochemistry Tutorial 1 (Amino Acids) – CurveSetter Tutoring

CurveSetter: MCAT Biology/Biochemistry Passage Analysis (Acetylcholine) – CurveSetter MCAT Prep

CurveSetter: MCAT 2015 Chemistry Tutorial 3 (Titration Passage) – CurveSetter Tutoring

CurveSetter: MCAT 2015 Chemistry/Physics Selected MC 1 – CurveSetter Tutoring

CurveSetter: Electricity and Magnetism MCAT Physics Passage – CurveSetter MCAT Prep

CurveSetter: MCAT 2015 Biology Tutorial 1 (Neuron Passage) – CurveSetter Tutoring

CurveSetter: MCAT 2015 CARS Tutorial 1 (Passage) – CurveSetter Tutoring

CurveSetter: MCAT 2015 CARS Tutorial 1 (Questions) – CurveSetter Tutoring

SecondChance MCAT: MCAT Science Passage Breakdown #1

SecondChance MCAT: Full MCAT CARS Passage Breakdown (98% CARS Scorer)

Bless her Health: CARS WORKSHOP 08/24

Bless her Health: CARS WORKSHOP 08/28

  After going through a few passages or so, review your mistakes! Then again look up your Q/A notes and see where you went wrong. When you do this, you’re allocating your attention areas that need it. This really helped me retain information whilst, practicing applying concepts with other concepts. Another reason why, is that the questions on the MCAT are really different from your college classes. Again, you’re not regurgitating facts out, you’re applying what you know with what you don’t know by looking at superficial similarities and coming up with the best answer. Since this is a new skill, the only way to learn it is through practice.

I am planning on making a post about how I breakdown science and CARS passages as well so stay tuned.

Spaced Repetition Is Key

One of the keys to success for the MCAT is repetition for retention. If you do not review, you will forget it. That’s why I always made sure that after a section of a chapter I would look over what I had so far and really try to understand what I just learned and see how it relates to other chapters or to the other subjects in one way or another to get the BIG PICTURE. Then, before I go to sleep I will look over at the chapter again as a whole and annotate anything that I think needs more detail. Then the next day before starting a new chapter, I quickly look at all the previous chapters by talking aloud (or aggressively whispering if you’re around people, sorry to the girl at Starbucks who has to put up with my) and just make connections to it. Over time, I looked at all the previous chapters so much that I can recall many concepts.

Review while making your Q/A notes

review after making your Q/A notes

Look at your Q/A notes before you go to bed

Before starting a new chapter, look at all the previous Q/A notes to refresh your memory

1 day later look at your old Q/A notes then maybe 3 days later do it again

Congratulations, all the info you’ve mastered are now stored in your long term memory. It is permanent until you die (unless if you get amnesia).

  I hope this helps make up for my absence and don’t worry, I will post more on MCAT prep. So ciao for now, and stay flossy everyone.

  How I Prepare for the MCAT Part 1 Hey Snarklings! Are you surprised that I'm still alive? I know I am (lols am I even relevant anymore?) Before I get into my whole MCAT prep strategy, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for leaving you guys in the dust.

[flslp87]

This story and others can be found in the CSSB Vol 2

This story is a collaborative story written with @allofthismatters@flslp87 @ilovemesomekillianjones and @ohmakemeahercules and the art was created by @hopeandbeans

The Best in You

Summary: An introspective look at both Emma and Killian's thoughts from the time he leaves after not telling her anything about Ursula to the time her parents catch them. Rating - K

After leaving Pinocchio with Marco, Emma planned to make her way back to the station to continue looking through the ATM videos, but somehow her thoughts took her a different direction and she found herself at the docks. They had become a place that she gravitated toward whenever her thoughts were muddled and she needed to sort through something. Today, it seemed there were multiple situations that needed her attention, but none more so than her conversation. or lack thereof with one close-mouthed pirate. When he arrived at the station with her lunch, and she had immediately tested him about whether he was bringing her french fries or onion rings, she had wanted to kick her behind for continuing to put him through hoops; but when he had grinned and rubbed her shoulder, she had relaxed and silently promised herself to behave. Why then had she immediately put him on the spot about Ursula? Was she jealous? No, that didn't feel right, but something about his reticence to talk about Ursula immediately brought all her insecurities to the surface.

As she watched the birds fly over the water she thought about how free they looked and wished she could be as free with the giving of her trust and of her feelings. Her past still had a hold on her and those walls, while she knew they were falling down a piece at a time, and much of it was due to Killian's persistence, she also knew that there were some instances when it appeared to be one step down and two steps back up. Today's conversation with him left her feeling very unsettled as it was so different than most of their conversations had been recently. He was usually the one trying to get her to open up and this time, he had shut her down with, "I don't know what else to say." Why had she crossed her arms over her chest, her body position exuding mistrust and not shown patience with him like he has always shown with her?

~~~cs~~~

It was times like this that Killian longed for the familiarity of his ship most. He needed refuge from the onslaught of shame over the most current disaster he'd brought upon Emma, in the form of a sea witch who was only a danger because of what he did to her.

He sat on the beach and dug his nails into his scalp. He should be used to past misdeeds seeping into his present by now, but somehow, he was not.

He'd never get used to the way she shrank back into herself when she knew he was hiding something, how she stopped looking at him like he was safe, like she was preparing to be hurt beyond measure again. It undid him and made him want to hold her face and beg her to understand that he loved her so much his bones ache with it, that he'd spend his life proving he could be counted on, if only she'd be patient while he processed all this himself first.

But how could he think he was deserving of anyone's trust or patience, after what he did to Ursula?

He's committed horrors of all kinds, but his wrongdoings against the young mermaid made him feel especially unworthy of Emma's confidence. He'd made Ursula a promise, looked her in the eye and vowed that she could rely on him. And instead, he'd stolen her voice like it was nothing. He'd felt genuine respect and affection for her... her fire and ambition had reminded him of Milah a bit, and he'd turned her into nothing but a pawn in his own depraved agenda. Hardly better than the Dark One himself.

He needed to tell Emma, and he hated it. Hated that in his most recent conversation with her he'd been so evasive because she'd caught him off guard, and he simply had no excuse for what a monster he'd been in his long life. He was fairly certain she would forgive him, because she was so fiercely good, but whether he deserved it is another story. He wanted to be more for her than a constant parade of old sins needing absolution.

Sighing deeply, he stood and headed back to the station.

~~~cs~~~

A feeling of chagrin stole over her as she realized that she had treated him unfairly. He didn't deserve the brunt of her insecurities, he already had to deal with townsfolk not giving him the benefit of the doubt. She knew there was nothing going on between him and Ursula now. She also knew that no matter what had happened between them it would have no bearing on the man she knows now. It wouldn't change how she feels for him. In fact, of that she is positive, because no matter what, she's certain there is a line he wouldn't cross where a lady is concerned.

Thinking back on the conversation she'd just had with her parents it dawned on her that she needed to take a page out of their book. If they could choose to see the best in everyone, including villains, then it is the least she could do for Killian. Deep down she already saw the very best in him, she just needed him to know that. She'd let her self-doubt and emotions shake her faith in him.

Shit, she thought. She needed to fix this and fast, who knew when the next crisis was going to rear its ugly head. Emma took a deep breath of the fresh ocean air to center herself. Digging her phone out of her pocket she dialed Killian, then held her breath hoping he would answer. By the fourth ring she was losing hope that he'd accept her phone call.

"Hello."

"Killian!" she exclaimed into the phone.

"Is everything okay, love?"

"Yes," she said breathlessly. She'd held her breath a little longer than she'd intended to, and now she was feeling a little dizzy. It wasn't just the lack of oxygen though. It hit her then that she'd been more worried than she thought. Worried that this would be the time that Killian had finally run out of patience. That he was finally going to decide that her walls weren't worth scaling. She shook her head, refocusing and shooing away the negativity. "Would you be willing to meet me at the station?"

~~~cs~~~

Just as Killian resolved to set the record straight with Emma, his phone buzzed in his jeans pocket. "Bloody hell," he growled. He'd never get used to the sudden interruptions phone calls caused. Especially when he was in deep thought or concentrating, like now. He survived hundreds of years without being instantaneously accessible and quite frankly could do a hundred more.

Once he'd recovered from the shock, he glanced at the caller i.d., Emma's name appeared. He sighed. This was too coincidental. How did she know he was about to confess? Could this woman read minds, too? Don't answer it. Give her a taste of her own medicine. No, she deserves to know the truth at all costs. He drew a breath and answered, "Hello?"

"Killian!" she blurted out. She never said his name that way. Something was obviously bothering her.

He frowned. "Is everything okay, love?"

"Yes," she replied.

No, it's not Swan. You're worried; the anxiety is prevalent in your tone.

She continued, "Would you be willing to meet me at the station?"

"Umm, sure. Any particular reason?"

"I've had a lot on my mind today, and need to talk about it with you."

Uh oh, the dreaded 'we need to talk' line. In all his encounters with women over the years, he'd learned that phrase rarely meant good things, and the subject matter would be serious in nature. "Like what?"

"Certain expectations and being honest about them."

Now she's playing the evasive game, huh? "Okay."

"Just come over here as soon as possible. I'd rather talk in person."

"As you wish, Swan. I'll be there shortly."

"See you then."

Killian groaned as they hung up. One step forward, five steps back with Emma. Maybe she'd decided he wasn't worthy anymore. He was too broken, too far gone, too much of a monster to consider loving. Even if this was the end, he wanted to finish on the side of good. Damn, why did he have to be honorable now? Sometimes it was much easier to burn bridges and never think about the issue again. Alas, this was the path he'd chosen. Heroes always tell the truth.

He glanced up at the night sky. I hope you're proud, Liam. I'm becoming the man you believed I was. Now was the perfect time to prove him right, and Killian didn't intend to pass it up.

~~~cs~~~

After Killian had promised to come by the station, Emma hung up the phone and shoved it in her back pocket. Her palms were sweating and her pulse was racing and just sitting behind her desk made her feel she was going to jump out of her skin. Standing, she paced. Ten steps forward, ten steps back, over and over again until she heard the front door to the station open. Needing to look busy, she hurried to the filing cabinet, grabbed a file and pretended to look through it as she listened to his footsteps coming down the hall.

Taking a deep breath for courage, Killian rounded the corner into the station, "Well, Swan, why did you summon me?"

Here goes nothing, she thought as he posed the question. Making it her motto, she repeated, don't screw this up several times in quick succession before turning to answer him. "Because I know there's something about your past with Ursula you're not telling me..." she began.

She's right, he thought, and once I tell you what it is, you will no longer wish to have anything to do with me. A possibility that had been eating at his insides since their earlier conversation.

And finished, "And that's ok." She noted the hopeful expression on his face and continued, "What's not ok, is you lying to me about it." She watched his face, seeing no change in expression except to note that whatever had happened, was not something that he seemed to want to discuss. Which when she thought about it was odd, as he had never been one to shy away from any of his villainous deeds, owning them completely.

His first thought when she said that she didn't care about this past had been that it was a trick, for that wasn't what had happened with women in the past. But then again, he should have known that Emma Swan was no ordinary woman and when you are in a relationship with a woman such as her, all rules were new, often being made up as the relationship progresses. Hearing that she is ok with my past as long as I tell her about the past is a new and unique experience. What to say?

"Aye, love, you're right."

She wasn't sure if he'd continue, and it almost startled her when he did.

"I haven't been entirely forthright with you."

Her gut churned at the mere words, an automatic response. How many times had she heard words like that only to have her life promptly uprooted and left in tatters because of someone's dishonesty? Enough that it drowned out the part of her that felt safe and sure of his devotion to her.

She fought down the cold panic creeping up her neck and wrestled away the persistent, cruel mocking in the back of her mind. You thought this one was 'different', didn't you? What good have you ever been at picking out the ones that'll stay?

"The truth is, I remember my history with Ursula. It was early." She tried to focus on his voice, but the pounding in her head only grew as he approached her. She steeled her face and threw the question at him without thinking.

"Did you break her heart?"

The question was so quick and direct that it felt like whiplash. He heard her real question: Are you about to break my heart? He hated having her look at him like that; like she was still afraid, after all they'd been through, that he'd turn on her. It left him with a sudden flare of red-hot frustration-what in hell was it going to take to make her understand how much he loved her—that was quickly quelled by compassion. If she was so willing to forgive his unspeakable deeds, he could certainly be patient with her freezing up and shutting down. In a way, yes, he did break Ursula's heart, but not in the way Emma meant right now, so he gave her the honest, plain truth.

"Worse."

He let the word linger in the air, and forced himself to meet her eyes and study her face. He looked for fear or disgust, but simply found resolve.

"Look, whatever you did, you're not that person anymore. It's not gonna change anything between us."

The enormity of her words didn't escape him. It was her heart and her blind trust, laid bare for him with a bravery that made his heart ache with pride in her. It was a gift which he both desperately wanted and wasn't sure he could ever deserve. Killian opened his mouth to speak, then paused, trying to comprehend what he was hearing. "That's quite a lot of faith you're putting on me, Swan," Killian pointed out. He shook his head as though doubting himself on Emma's behalf. Did he even deserve to hope that she might actually mean it?

"I know," she answered lightly, "and there's a reason for it." Emma took her baffled pirate's hand and led him to the couch. She hated that she had put that look of self-doubt on his face, that she'd made him question his own worthiness. That's why she was going to fix this.

"What's that?" he asked, still quite certain that regardless of what she had to say, there was no way she was forgiving him this misdeed. His stomach churned with the memories of what he' done to Ursula, all in pursuit of his damned vengeance.

"My parents. I had this moment today where I doubted them… said they were going for a hike, and I actually thought they were lying to me." Emma thought back to her conversation with her parents. She chastised herself for doubting them, and doubting Killian. She had to stop this pattern.

Killian didn't miss the look of disbelief in her own actions that passed over her features, and he yearned for her to have the same faith in him. Wished he'd earned the same faith. "Were they?" he asked, already knowing the answer. Their royal highnesses were above lying, they'd have to have something to hide. Now there's a dubious concept, he thought.

"No, of course not, my parents would never lie to me," she said, almost like it had been silly to think otherwise. "But the fact that I could think that they would it reminded me that I have this tendency… to expect the worst of people." Emma couldn't help but think of just how true this was when it came to Killian. He might be the person who'd bore the brunt of her doubt in others. She'd started their entire relationship on that path when she'd handcuffed him up on the beanstalk. Even though her lie detector had told her he was genuine, she'd still chosen to believe the worst. Shame flooded when she thought about the time she'd wasted since them. Time that they could've been together, really together.

Killian heard the dejected tone she took on when she mentioned how she tended to view the world, and the people in it. It broke his heart because he knew exactly where those feelings stemmed from. He knew what it was like to feel as though you couldn't trust anyone but yourself, and that there was no one out there for you. He continued to listen as she explained herself, still in awe of her turnaround, and hopeful for what it could mean for them.

"My childhood, people were always letting me down, and I-"

"Hey," he interrupted, needing to tell her that she couldn't categorize him with those who'd broken her heart throughout her entire life. Anger coursed through him, directed at all who'd hurt this tough lass. He wasn't that man, if he did nothing else right in his long life, he'd do right by Emma Swan. It only took looking into her eyes to calm the quelling emotions. "I don't intend to let you down," he vowed.

Warmth flowed through Emma's veins. No one had told her that before; life had merely handed her one hardship after another. Killian had proved himself worthy several times over, even when she didn't give him credit. "I know. And I know whatever happened with that sea witch, you can tell me on your own time. Because no matter what, I'm gonna do what my parents always do. I am going to choose to see the best in you."

I don't deserve this amount of trust. But I'll spend my life assuring your faith in me was correctly placed. 

He bowed his head and said, "And I with you."

The couple smiled at each other and leaned in for a kiss-

CRASH! Moment lost, Emma turned toward the station front. Her bemused parents stood in the doorway. Of all times to interrupt…. we were having a relationship developing moment. Could you have arrived five minutes later?

What the…? Perplexed her lips weren't on his, Killian opened his eyes and glanced at the intruders. Snow and David. While he respected the queen and king, they were the last individuals he wanted to see at the moment. Blimey, what's a bloke have to sacrifice for some privacy around here? Their firstborn child?

Emma smiled apologetically and mouthed, "Later."

Killian nodded. I'd like to have a word. No, this relationship is too new. I don't want to cast myself in a worse light than I already am or seem demanding. He bit his lips as Emma stood up and her parents walked in the room. David blatantly cleared his throat and Snow's cheeks flushed fresh pink.

"Sorry… we didn't mean to… interrupt," Snow stammered.

Emma's eyes narrowed. "So, you stood there awkwardly and stared at us the whole time?"

David sighed. "Sorry, but we have bad news. Cruella and Ursula were up to something. They've resurrected Maleficent."

"Wait. You mean that dragon I killed and took True Love potion from?"

The conversation shifted to Storybrooke's latest villain filled emergency.

Twenty minutes later, the couple was alone again. Emma noticed Killian was filled with tension. He wasn't the only one with unresolved business. To Hell with being the Savior, I want to kiss my pirate. "You okay?"

"Sorry Swan, I'm still vexed from earlier."

"I'm really sorry about that. I didn't know they were there."

"Not your fault. You don't control other people's actions. However, I worry it'll set a precedent."

Emma stepped forward, inches from his face. "What do you mean?"

"Say things continue to go well between us, it could escalate into more intimate activities. If caught, your father would give me a fate worse than death."

Emma nodded. She pictured her and Killian naked in her bed at the loft when David opened the door with a horrified expression. "Don't worry, I'll talk to them about boundaries. I'm sure magic has spells that soundproof rooms. Now, kiss me pirate."

"If the lady insists," he replied with a devilish grin. The kiss sealed the vows previously exchanged.

Afterwards, they pushed their foreheads together. "May I come back to your room with you?" she asked.

That can't be right. She's asking me. I should be asking her. "Are you sure, lass?"

Emma smiled. "I've never wanted anything else more."

~fin

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The paid content where you can download the audio and pdfs was essential to my success on multiple rotations and Step 2. OnlineMedEd is pretty much the Uworld of clinical rotations. You may send an email to for all DMCA / Removal Requests. I used OnlineMedEd during the clinical years and in a quick review for USMLE Step 2 CK. Updated annually by Kaplan’s all-star faculty. In this post, we have shared an overview and download link of USMLE Step 2 Secrets PDF. The format of the questions may vary within each block. The official Kaplan Lecture Notes for USMLE Step 2 CK cover the comprehensive information you need to ace the USMLE Step 2 and match into the residency of your choice. The number of USMLE Step 2 CK questions in each block varies but does not exceed 40, and the total number does not exceed 318.

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Alright, now in this part of the article, you will be able to access the free PDF download of Uworld 2019 Notes for USMLE Step 2 CK PDF using our direct links mentioned at the end of this article. Read Online USMLE Step 2 CS Lecture Notes 2018: Patient Cases Proven Strategies (Kaplan USMLE Step 2 Cs Prep) (Kaplan Test Prep). Your 3-digit score is currently used as a gatekeeper for competitive and sought-after residency programs when Step 1 switches to Pass/Fail, this marker will fall to Step 2 CK. If someone with copyrights wants us to remove this software/Book, please contact us. Step 2 CK is a one-day examination divided into eight 60-minute blocks over the course of nine hours. Download Uworld 2019 Notes for USMLE Step 2 CK PDF Free. Despite the upcoming changes to USMLE® scoring, the USMLE® Step 1 is still very import-ant. We’re sharing this with our audience ONLY for educational purpose and we highly encourage our visitors to purchase original licensed software/Books. If you feel that we have violated your copyrights, then please contact us immediately. Step 2 Clinical Knowledge (CK) SAMPLE TEST QUESTIONS A Joint Program of the Federation of State Medical Boards of the United States, Inc. No illegal copies are made or any copyright © and / or copyright is damaged or infringed since all material is free on the internet. Moreover  server does not store any type of book, guide, software, or images. doesn’t have any material hosted on the server of this page, only links to books that are taken from other sites on the web are published and these links are unrelated to the book server. We are not hosting any copyrighted contents on our servers, it’s a catalog of links that already found on the internet. LABORATORY VALUES (continued from page 2) REFERENCE RANGE SI REFERENCE INTERVALS BODY MASS INDEX (BMI) Body mass index. This site complies with DMCA Digital Copyright Laws. Please bear in mind that we do not own copyrights to this book/software. Share this Post with your friends to Help Them.