#writemyanchor | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

someinvisible-string · 7 years ago

Text

I Don’t Need You to Save Me (But Would You Run Away With Me)

Summary: A lot can happen in ten years; mistakes, triumphs, questions, and answers, all things that Killian Jones doesn't know if he wants or even deserves. But with his 10 year high school reunion, he will have to finally come face to face with the center of all his questions and perhaps get the answers he needs.

A/N: This fic would be near as good if it weren't for my wonderful beta @writemyanchor , nor would it exist without the Captain Swan Little Bang. Beautiful artwork by @shippingtheswann

Trigger Warnings for financial and verbal abuse and mentions of past physical abuse.

AO3

Storybrooke—Present Day

Killian stared at himself in the mirror attempting to work his tie into a presentable knot, which was proving difficult with one hand. He sighed and tossed it onto his dresser, feeling frustrated. Yet another reason to skip out on his 10-year high school reunion. Others being that he needed to catch up on some shows that were piling up on his DVR and the mountain of essays that needed grading sitting on his kitchen counter.

His phone ringing shook him out of his thoughts and he fished his phone out of his back pocket without bothering to look at his caller ID.

“Hello, David,” he replied, rolling his eyes.

“You’re coming tonight,” was all David had to say in response.

“I don’t know...” Killian started, but David cut him off.

“Come on man, don’t you want to see everyone?”

“David, everyone still lives here; I see everyone from school all the time.”

“Not everyone.”

“You know she won’t be there,” Killian sighed, thinking about reason number one (and really the only reason) he didn’t want to go to this reunion.

“You don’t know that. She could surprise us all,” David said.

“We haven’t heard from her since she ran away.”

“So? Doesn’t mean she still can’t come tonight.”

“That is highly unlikely.”

“Stranger things have happened. Look just come to the thing, please? Mary Margaret busted her butt working on this and she’d love for you to come. Just stay for one drink.”

Killian ran his hand through his hair, knowing that he really wasn’t going to be able to get out of going tonight. “All right, just one drink though.”

“Great! We’ll see you at Granny’s!” David hung up before Killian could say anything else. He sat down on his bed, head in his hand. He could feel a migraine beginning to brew behind his eyes, but he had said he’d go for at least one drink and if Killian Jones was anything, he was a man of his word.

He got up, taking one last look in the mirror and deciding against the tie tonight. He was most likely going to be there for only a half hour, an hour tops, with people he saw nearly every day. No need to impress anyone.

Storybrooke—10 Years Ago

Emma sat in yet another administrative office swinging her legs back and forth as she waited for another new set of foster parents to finish signing all the forms officially enrolling her in Storybrooke High School. The Smiths seemed all right as far as new foster parents went. She was their only foster child; they had another biological daughter who was away at college, but Emma had been with many “nice enough” foster families who turned out to be anything but. She had to leave her last foster home when someone noticed the bruises on her arms and figured out that her foster father had taken to hitting her and the other children with a thick switch. He did it when they did anything he deemed “out of order” and everything seemed to be out of order there. Emma still had a particularly nasty bruise on her shoulder for accidentally knocking his beer into his lap.

“All right, Emma,” her new principal said as she opened the door to her office. “You’re all signed in, and now I just have a few things to go over with you.”

“Okay.” Emma hitched her worn backpack higher on her unbruised shoulder.

“Here is your schedule for the semester,” she said, handing Emma a thick piece of stock paper. “Now seeing as how you are coming to us mid-semester, we’ve taken the liberty of assigning you to a tutor during your study hall period on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

“I’m sure I can catch up on my own,” Emma said, her jaw tight and her shoulders squared.

“Be that as it may, I would feel much better if you had some help starting out. Give it a month and if your teachers tell me that you are caught up with the material, then you can tell your tutor that you’ll no longer be needing his services.”

“Fine,” Emma sighed and took her schedule from the principal.

“I hope you enjoy your time here at Storybrooke High,” she said, trying to smile warmly at her.

Emma bit her tongue, keeping her sarcastic retort in her mouth where it belonged and simply nodded at the woman. She made her way out of the office and into the hall, schedule in hand and no idea where to go.

“Hi!”

Emma looked up and saw a chipper brunette with a pixie cut waving enthusiastically at her. Emma instantly knew she had to be one of those perky student council types administration always asked to show the transfer students around.

“I’m Mary Margaret,” the girl continued, “and Mrs. Pendragon told me to show you around for the day! It’s nice to meet you.” She took Emma’s hand and shook it.

“Nice to meet you, too...” Emma replied, forcing a smile. She knew exactly what she was in for: a chipper goody two-shoes shadowing her around the school and giving her useless bits of information about a school that’s only been around for 20 years or so instead of the good stuff like which bathroom was the easiest to sneak out of or what food in the cafeteria to avoid.

“So to start off, I guess I’ll tell you a little about the school. Storybrooke High was founded in 1983,” Mary Margaret prattled on as they walked down the hall.

As far as Emma could see, Storybrooke High was one big building with the athletic fields nearby and a seemingly massive football stadium. There were various trophies displayed in a large glass case in the main hall that seemed to be the central hub of the school, leading her to believe that sports were a big deal there.

“Oh, and you have to join yearbook! It’s a great way to get involved and see what’s going on and I’m not saying that just because I’m the editor.” Mary-Margaret’s voice broke Emma out of her thoughts.

Emma didn’t have the heart to tell her that with her record she probably wouldn’t be there by the end of the year to see the actual book published. So instead she settled with, “Oh thanks, but I think I should just try to focus on school work before I start joining clubs and stuff.”

“Of course.” Mary Margaret started to say something else, but was interrupted by the bell ringing. “Oh, is it lunch time already?”

“Looks like it,” Emma said as students started flooding the halls and floating towards the cafeteria.

“Well, why don’t you come sit with me and my friends? I promise they’re all super nice!”

“Oh um, well actually...” Emma stuttered. She had never received an invitation to sit with her tour guide before. “I should probably go get my books from the library, you know?”

Mary Margaret’s face fell. “Oh, okay. Do you want me to show you where the library is then?”

“You don’t have to miss part of your lunch for me. Just point me in the right direction and I’ll find my way.” Emma followed the directions Mary Margaret had given her, feeling a small twinge of guilt in her chest as she walked away.

It’s for the best, she told herself. What’s the use in making friends when you’re probably going to have to move again anyways?

If there was one thing she’d learned, it was that it sucked being the new kid. Everyone already had their friends and cliques so it was almost worse being the person who hovered awkwardly around the edges of the group than just being “the loner.” The absolute worst was getting just close enough to someone to start even considering them a friend, only to have something happen that would force Emma to change foster families again.

New family. New school. New kids.

Same bullshit.

Storybrooke—Present Day

Killian opened the door to the diner, a quick survey of the room showing him that his expectations of the night hadn’t been far off. Mary Margaret and David sat in their usual booth in the corner and Ruby Lucas was serving drinks behind the bar, holding court with her old posse of theater nerds while Victor Whale stood by and tried to flirt with her. Killian had an odd little flashback to high school, everyone sitting in similar spots as they did in the cafeteria. The meathead jocks–now meathead businessmen–sat together with their cheerleader-turned-PTA parent wives. Thankfully, he saw the school librarian and one of his close friends, Belle French, sitting in a corner by herself. So Killian got himself a drink and sat down next to her.

“Suddenly high school doesn’t seem like it was ten years ago does it?” he asked her.

“Yeah,” she said, “you’d think people would have changed somewhat in a decade.”

“Maybe at our twenty-year reunion, then?” he smiled at her, glad to have a companion for the night. He opened his mouth to ask her how the library renovations were going. After taking over for her mother, Belle had finally found enough money in the budget to put all new computers in. However, Killian was disrupted from his thoughts when the bell above the front door chimed.

“Oh my god,” Belle said once she saw who walked in.

Killian turned and his jaw instantly dropped because Emma Swan, a vision in red, had once again walked unexpectedly into his life.

Storybrooke—10 Years Ago

Emma breathed a sigh of relief once she entered the library. At least no matter what school she was in, the libraries were there to comfort her with their familiar and soothing, musty scent.

She walked up to the librarian and handed her her schedule. “I need some textbooks, please.”

“Well, we’ll get these for you, dear. I’ll grab the textbooks from the back and the books for your English class are going to be in those two back shelves.” She handed Emma a list of novels to check out and pointed to the back corner.

Emma groaned inwardly as she pulled her required texts from the shelves. She had read The Great Gatsby twice and Romeo and Juliet three times already. Hopefully, her English teacher would take pity on her and let her read something else.

Emma walked back to the front desk to find a guy about her age standing there instead of the nice librarian from before.

“She’s still in the back getting your textbooks, but I can check out those books for you if you want,” he explained, motioning to the stack in her hands. He was tall and lanky, with a nose he still needed to grow into, and the bluest eyes Emma had ever seen.

“Thanks.” Emma put her books on the desk and he wrote down the titles in an old record book. “They keep it old school here, don’t they?”

“If it ain’t broke, no need to fix it,” he shrugged. “At least that’s what Mrs. French always says when I try to talk her into getting a new system.”

“A bit stubborn, I’m guessing?”

“Just a tad,” he smiled at her, extending his hand for her to shake, and Emma noted that the kids at that school seemed to really be into the whole hand-shaking thing. “I’m Killian.”

“Emma,” she returned with a small smile.

“You’re new, I take it?”

“What was your first clue?” Emma tilted her head in mock confusion.

“I don’t know, just something about you. Maybe your expression?”

“Ha ha,” Emma laughed with a roll of her eyes.

“All right, dear, here are your books.” Mrs. French the librarian returned, heaving the stack of books onto the desk.

“I told you I could have gotten those for you,” Killian said to the woman.

“Nonsense, dear, it’s good for my health.” She waved him away with a roll of her eyes. “So, you two have been getting to know each other?”

“A bit, yeah,” Killian said, looking at Emma with a curious expression.

Suddenly she felt her walls slam back up, knowing she couldn’t make the same mistakes she’d made before: too many boys with kind smiles and sweet words had hurt her more than she ever could have expected.

She wasn’t going to be stupid this time around.

“Yeah, just a bit. I should go put these in my locker before next period,” she said, grabbing her books off the desk.

“You want some help?” Killian called after her.

“I got it,” Emma half shouted over her shoulder, knowing that she probably wouldn’t be going into that library again.

Storybrooke—Present Day

“I can’t believe she’s here,” Belle whispered to an awestruck Killian.

“Yeah,” he responded, his eyes taking in the sight of a woman he had not seen in over a decade. Her blonde hair was curled and looked so soft he longed to run his fingers through it. Then there was the tight red dress and sky high heels that left little to the imagination.

“Well, aren’t you going to say something to her?” Belle asked him.

“I-I-” Killian scrambled for words. “What would I even say to her?”

“How about, ‘Hi! How have you been since high school?’” Belle raised an eyebrow at him. “That’s what these reunions are for.”

“Belle, you don’t understand,” Killian whispered in a rush, “I can’t just go up to her.”

“Why not?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Jesus, Killian, just do it.” Belle pushed him harder than he was expecting for a woman half his size and he nearly fell out of his chair. The whole room looked towards him, including Emma. Oh how he wished he could have just melted into the floor right there. When he imagined meeting Emma again, he was always calm, cool, collected and in control of the situation. This moment could not have been further from his imagination.

Storybrooke—10 Years Ago

The first few days at Storybrooke High went by fast for Emma. She attended her classes, lived through the embarrassing announcements from teachers that she was new, and had even found a nice, grassy hilltop where she could spend her lunch period alone with a book. By Friday, she knew her way around the school well enough that she only got turned around once. However, that one mix-up led to her running late to her study hall period, forcing her to stumble into the library and hurry to a seat.

“Well, hello again.”

Emma looked up and saw Killian with that soft, kind smile of his.

“Do you live in here or something?” she asked incredulously, pulling her Algebra II textbook out of her backpack.

“Let’s go with ‘or something’,” he said, staying seated in the chair next to her.

“Um, you might have to move soon,” she said defensively.

“Why?”

“Because I’m saving this seat for someone?”

“Well, it turns out that I was actually saving that seat you’re sitting in for someone,” he smirked at her. “The girl I’m tutoring.”

Realization dawned on Emma as she took in his smug expression—the obvious air of superiority and the pity in his eyes.

Emma definitely didn’t need nor want anything from him.

“Look, I didn’t ask for a tutor,” she finally said. “The principal just gave me one in case I needed to catch up and I’m perfectly capable of catching up on my own.” Emma couldn’t help the slight bite in her tone, but she didn’t care.

“Okay, point taken.” Killian leaned back, holding his hands up in defeat. “Well, since they probably aren’t going to just unassign me from being your tutor, I have a proposition for you.” Emma raised a skeptical eyebrow at him, but he was quick to say, “Not like that!” a bit too loudly, considering they were in a library.

Killian’s blush matched Emma’s as several other students around them turned their way. He lowered his head and leaned closer to her, speaking quietly, “What I’m trying to say is that we can just be study partners. We can do homework together and help each other out if we need to.”

Emma mulled it over. At least this way when she had a question it wouldn’t feel as embarrassing to ask him. The playing field would be even. And in all honesty, Mr. Spencer was a really hard teacher and she didn’t really have the best Algebra II teacher at her last school.

“Okay,” she shrugged. “I guess we can give it a shot.” They ended up shaking on it, and Emma told herself that the little tingle of electricity that shot up her arm when their hands touched was simply because she was excited to do better in the class than she originally expected. It certainly had nothing to do with the fact that Killian may have been the closest thing she’d had to a friend in ages.

Storybrooke—Present Day

Killian could hear the whispers directed towards Emma as she walked up to the bar and he recalled all of the rumors that had cropped up when she suddenly stopped coming to school all those years ago.

“She’s in the Witness Protection Program and had to leave for her safety!”

“No, no. She’s the criminal and had to leave because the cops were after her!”

“No. I heard it was because she got knocked up and her foster family didn’t want her anymore!”

“Nah, she ran off with the baby daddy!”

None of the so-called “theories” were ever close to why she actually left, and only Killian really knew what had happened. He felt a stone of residual anger plummet in his stomach at the memory.

“Emma!” Mary Margaret called and parted the crowd of people milling about. She enveloped Emma in a hug when she finally got to her and Killian could see Emma’s shoulders tense as her eyes widened in surprise—she never was great with receiving the love and kindness she deserved. Nevertheless, Mary Margaret guided Emma back to the booth that she and David occupied with a few of their friends.

Emma sat on the very edge seat, the closest to the door, because she was always ready to run Even after ten years, Killian could still read her like an open book.

“What happened between you two?” Belle asked, bringing him back to the present

“A lot, Belle. I can’t talk about it right now.”

“Okay. But, Killian, you really should go and talk to her. I’m sure whatever happened between you can be mended.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“I’m not saying you have to make things right in a night, but you should at least make the first step towards making things better. What’s that thing you always tell me?”

Killian looked down at his clenched hand. “‘A man unwilling to fight, deserves what he gets.’”

“And what exactly is hiding in the corner with me going to get you?” She smirked triumphantly at him. Killian groaned and looked towards the ceiling, knowing that Belle had a point.

“Fine, I’ll go talk to her.” He stood up, his hand sweaty and knees weak. His heart felt like it would beat right out of his chest as he walked towards her. Everything else fell to the wayside and suddenly all he could see was her.

Storybrooke—10 Years Ago

Emma tried to keep Killian at arm's length, tried to keep her walls up so that when and if she eventually had to leave the only one who got hurt would be her. But the thing about Killian Jones, she was learning, was that he had a way of slowly knocking those walls down, one by one.

Somewhere in those study hall hours spent trying to decipher their homework, Emma stopped fearing that she would suddenly need to be moved to a new home or that she might need to take matters into her own hands and run away. Instead, her head was filled with the little jokes and comments Killian made while trying to work through their homework, the way his blue eyes brightened whenever she actually laughed with him, the way his bangs would sometimes flop over his forehead and into his eyes. She tried, unsuccessfully, not to think about how much she wanted to brush those locks of hair with her hand.

One day, there was a particularly large amount of homework Mr. Spencer had assigned in order to prepare them for his upcoming midterm...or so he had said. Emma just thought he enjoyed the loud groans of frustration coming from his class.

“Swan?” Killian asked, using her last name as he had taken to calling her. “There’s no way we’re going to be able to get through all this homework in study hall.”

“You’re right,” Emma said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “This is just a cruel and unusual amount of homework.”

“Well, I was wondering if maybe you’d like to go to Granny’s after school so we can finish and then start studying for his midterm,” he said in a rush.

Emma could read between the lines. This wasn’t an innocent invitation to study; this was an invitation to something more. Her heart sank when she realized she was going to have to say no to whatever he had in mind.

“Oh, Killian, I’m sorry, but I actually have to go look for a job after school.” Emma knew he was trying to hide it, but she could see the disappointment in his eyes.

“Oh, no worries then. I understand. You should try the movie theater. They’re always looking for people there.” He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Are you trying to save up for college?”

Emma shook her head. “My foster parents think it’ll be a good way to get to know people here and my caseworker agrees.” Emma didn’t really like telling people that she was in the foster system since she already stuck out enough as a new kid in ratty hand-me-downs. She didn’t need people knowing that she was an orphan on top of that.

But with Killian, she didn’t want to keep that part of herself a secret anymore.

“Well, if you want to get to know people here, you should get a job at Granny’s. Her granddaughter Ruby is in our grade and she knows everyone.”

“You think Granny would hire me?”

“I don’t see why not. Trust me, if Ruby can work there, so can you.”

And with that, Killian met her on the front steps of the school once the final bell rang and they walked to Granny’s Diner together. Once inside, Killian discreetly pointed to an older woman who was slinging out plates onto the front counter faster than she could say “Order Up!”

“That’s Granny,” Killian said. “Just go introduce yourself and tell her you’re interested in a job here. You have your resume in your backpack, so you’re all set.” Gently, he pushed her towards Granny, who was right in the middle of taking someone’s order.

“I can’t do it now, she’s talking to someone!” Emma tried to turn and walk out the door, but Killian caught her by the elbow.

“Look, she’s finished! Go on. The worst she can say is ‘no.’”

“Can I get you kids anything, or are you just going to block my doorway?” Granny asked, suddenly in front of them with her hands on her hips and a half-smile that made her look authoritative and friendly at the same time.

“Yes, actually,” Emma said before she lost her nerve. “A job, please? I would like a job.”

“Hmm, what hours can you work, darlin’?”

“After school? And on weekends. I can even come in and open if you need me to some days.”

“Ever worked in a diner before?”

“Once, in Minnesota.” Emma handed Granny her resume, hoping she didn’t ask any more questions about that. Her foster family in Minnesota had been so awful that she had started sleeping in the restaurant’s boiler room just to avoid going home. It was a wonder she never got caught.

“Well then,” Granny said, perusing Emma’s resume over the top of her half-moon glasses, “it looks like you’ve got a job, Miss Swan.”

“Really?” Emma said, looking over at Killian in disbelief.

“Really. Now come back tomorrow after school and we’ll start training you when it’s slow.”

Emma smiled brighter than she had in a long time. “Thank you!”

Storybrooke—Present Day

“Emma?” Killian tapped her on the shoulder, not sure what he was expecting her to do when she saw him. He wasn’t expecting the smile that she gave him when she turned and realized it was him.

“Killian?” she said in disbelief, her eyes scanning up and down his body.

“Aye, love, it’s me,” he said, standing a bit straighter. “It’s good to see you.”

“You, too. How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been good. A bit surprised to see you here, to be honest.”

“You can thank me for that,” Mary Margaret piped in.

“She tracked me down online last month and practically forced me to come,” Emma smirked.

“I did not force you! I just suggested that you should come up from Boston and visit us,” Mary Margaret said innocently

“Yes, to the point that I thought if I didn’t say ‘yes’ you’d drive down and force me into your car.”

“Well, however I persuaded you to come, the point is you’re here! We missed you! For a minute, it seemed like you weren’t going to come.”

Emma shot a quick look at Killian who averted his gaze to the drink in his hand. A deep feeling of shame brewed in his chest because he knew what had happened—what he had done to make Emma want to leave and never come back.

She probably didn’t think he’d come tonight.

“Well, I’m here now,” Emma deflected with a wave of her hand. “I’d much rather hear about how you’re doing. How’s Leo?” she asked Mary-Margaret.

As Mary Margaret launched into talking about her and David’s son, Killian allowed himself to look at Emma a bit more closely. She looked as beautiful as she always had: her arms were toned and muscular; her face had matured, and her expression was brighter and more open than it had been years ago.

His eyes darted down to her left hand and he couldn’t help the excited swoop in his chest when he didn’t find a ring on her fourth finger.

“Earth to Killian,” Mary Margaret waved at him, pulling him out of his trance.

“Right, sorry. What were we talking about?”

“Your job, remember? How you’re a teacher now?”

“Oh right, sorry. I must have zoned out for a moment.” He blushed furiously.

Smooth, Killian. Real smooth.

“What subject do you teach?” Emma asked.

“AP European History and Honors US History.”

“You always did love history,” Emma said with a small smile.

“Aye, I did. What about you, Swan? Where do you work?”

“I’m a cop in Boston,” she said, but Killian could tell there was something she was keeping from them.

Emma crossed her arms over her chest, gripping her upper arms protectively. She had always done that back then.

Storybrooke—10 Years Ago

Killian and Emma had ended up staying at the diner for a while after Granny offered her a job. Emma had some forms to fill out and they ended up studying for the midterm until it got dark.

“Killian?” Emma asked as he walked her home. “Can I ask you something?”

“You already did, but sure.”

Emma couldn’t help but smile slightly at his teasing. “What I told you earlier, about how I’m in the foster system...Could you please not tell anyone? It’s not that I’m ashamed or anything...”

“You just want people to know on your own terms,” Killian finished.

“Yeah.”

“No problem, Swan. I understand.”

“You do?”

“I was in a group home for a few months, two years ago.”

“I’m sorry,” she started, suddenly unsure of what to say.

“It’s not your fault. My dad walked out on me, my brother, and my mom when I was three. My mom got sick and, well, she didn’t get better so my brother had to prove he was able to take care of me. Now it’s just me and Liam.”

“You’re lucky.”

“I know. I can’t imagine how difficult it would be not to have someone on the outside.” Killian rocked back nervously on his heels. “Well, I shared. What’s your story, Swan?”

Emma rolled her eyes at him. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Perhaps I would.”

Emma turned and saw his earnest expression. It was clear he wanted to know her; her vulnerabilities, walls, and secrets. It was all too much because she had never bothered to get this close to anyone in a long time.

It excited her.

It terrified her.

“I can walk the rest of the way back myself,” she said quickly before Killian could protest, she had hurried ahead of him. Arms crossed, head down, and refusing to look back.

Storybrooke—Present Day

“So how do you like it? Your job I mean,” Killian said hoping, he wasn’t overstepping.

“I like it, but I actually need a refill. Talk later, yeah?” Emma said, holding up her nearly empty glass. She rushed back towards the bar before David could reach their group.

“Is she alright?” David asked Mary Margaret.

“I hope so. I mean, I remember her being a bit skittish back in the day. I thought since she agreed to come tonight, she might have come out of her shell a bit more.”

“Maybe this is her out of her shell,” David joked.

“No. It’s not,” Killian muttered, his eyes still on Emma as she stood at the bar. “Well, you always knew her the best back then,” Mary Margaret shrugged. “She asked if you would be here tonight.”

His head whipped back to Mary-Margaret. “She did?”

“Yeah. Why do you think I was trying so hard to get you to come tonight?” David said, nudging Killian in the shoulder.

“I think you should go talk to her,” Mary Margaret said.

Killian sighed, looking towards the bar. “You’re right.”

With shaking hands he hoped no one noticed, Killian walked to her while simultaneously trying to figure out what to say.

“You always come after me,” Emma said as he approached, her back still to Killian as she waited for her refill.

“Old habits die hard, I suppose...” He took the place beside her, signaling Ruby for another drink.

“I’m a big girl, Killian.” Emma kept her eyes in front of her. “I can take care of myself.”

“I never said you couldn’t,” Killian said, trying and failing to keep the edge out of his voice.

Emma turned to him, anger and hurt written all over her face.“You have no right to talk to me like that.”

Killian turned to her. “Like what?”

“Like...Like somehow you were more affected by it than I was,” Emma all but growled.

“I’m not the one who left in the middle of the night,” he muttered, white knuckling his glass.

“You know better than anyone in this room why I had to leave. You do not get to hold that over my head, Killian.”

“I know why you had to leave, but what I don’t understand is why you never tried to contact me. No phone call, no letter. For ten damn years, Emma. And then you just come back here and I don’t know how to even begin processing that you’re back and you’re here and...” Killian trailed off, a lump in his throat and tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

“You think I don’t feel exactly what you’re feeling right now? Mary Margaret didn’t even know for sure if you were coming tonight.”

“And what if I hadn’t? Would you have even bothered to reach out if it wasn’t convenient for you?” Killian said, suddenly realizing he was shouting at her and the room had gone quiet, everyone staring at them in embarrassed curiosity.

“That fact that you have to ask that makes me wonder if I even knew you at all,” Emma said before she turned and stormed away.

Storybrooke—10 Years Ago

Emma eased into her new job at Granny’s. The training went well and Granny was willing to work around Emma’s schedule: “If you ever feel like you need some time off to study or to go on a school trip, you come to me and I’ll make sure you get that time, honey,” Granny had told her, a firm yet gentle hand resting on Emma’s shoulder.

Her foster mother had even gone with Emma to the Bank of Storybrooke to help her open an account, “You’re almost grown up now,” she said. “You really should have your own checking account.” Mrs. Smith gave Emma’s clothes a once over. “Maybe it’s time for some new clothes, too. Every lady needs a good wardrobe.”

Emma had beamed; she had never had a foster mother offer to take her shopping for brand new clothes.

“Really?” Emma smiled. “Thank you so much.”

They walked down the street together towards the big boutique on Main Street and Emma couldn’t help but wonder...

Is this what it’s like to have a mom? Someone who offers to buy you clothes and helps you with all the scary financial stuff they should teach in school? Someone who wants to spend the afternoon with you? Without a house full of other children?

Emma couldn’t help the warm feeling in her chest as she and her foster mother drove home, then later as Mrs. Smith helped Emma organize her new clothes in her closet.

On Monday, Emma strode into study hall where she knew Killian would be waiting for her at their usual table. She was finally determined to put the past behind her; she had a new job, new wardrobe, and maybe even a new home—at least until graduation.

Maybe Emma could have a friend too?

“Hey,” she said, dropping down into the seat next to Killian.

“Hey,” he responded, a little awkwardly, which was understandable.

“Look, I’m sorry about Thursday. Sometimes I have a hard time when people try to get to know me.” She shifted uneasily in her seat.

“It’s okay, Emma,” he smiled gently at her. “But you should know I want to get to know you...beyond how much you despise Algebra II.”

Emma laughed quietly and blushed. “Okay, I think I can handle that,” she said as relief spread across her chest.

And just like that, Emma had officially made a friend. The first one she’d since she could remember.

Storybrooke—Present Day

Killian felt awful watching Emma leave Granny’s. Regret pooled in his stomach at the way he had spoken to her, and it rooted him to the spot.

“So, that didn’t go well,” David said behind him.

Killian sighed and turned towards his friend. “Why did she come tonight?” Killian asked, paying no mind to how childish he sounded.

“It couldn’t have anything to do with the fact that she missed you, could it?”

“David, she didn’t even try to get in contact with me after she left. I stayed in this tiny town all these years. Never changed my address, my phone number, nothing. And she didn’t even try. So don’t give me that bullshit,” Killian finished bitterly before taking a long drink. The rum burned all the way down and settled uneasily in his belly.

“For a smart man, Killian, you really can be an idiot sometimes.” David sighed. “Go talk to her if you’re so hung up on why she hasn’t reached out to you all these years. Did it ever occur to you that maybe this is hard for her, too?”

“What makes you think you even know her?” Killian asked.

“Mary Margaret is persistent, she might know Emma almost as well as you do.” David shrugged as if that explained everything. “Now, I’m not going to pretend I know the full story of you and Emma. But I know that it would devastate both of you if you missed this opportunity to reconnect, all over a stupid argument you had ten years ago.”

Killian wanted to argue with David, but he knew his friend was right.

So instead, Killian downed the rest of his drink and sighed. “I think I know where she might be.”

Storybrooke—10 Years Ago

Once Emma and Killian became friends, they were nearly inseparable. He would sit in the diner during Emma’s shifts and afterwards they would go to his house and watch movies, do homework together, or just relax. Emma found herself telling him about everything; her past foster parents who saw her as nothing but a meal ticket, the old foster siblings that would bully and break her down until all she wanted to do was lock herself away and cry. She described the group homes, with the scratchy sheets and that musty smell that never seemed to go away.

The worst was the day Emma realized the couples looking to adopt never really stopped to look at her. Instead, they focused their attentions on the little ones—the ones who were still new and unhurt by the system. They didn’t want someone who’d spent most of her life in the system, someone who was almost eighteen and was far too sarcastic and jaded and damaged. Someone like Emma Swan.

And for each secret that Emma gave him, Killian gave her one of his own.

He told her how hard it was for him and Liam to get by and how Liam gave up a good position in the Navy just to take care of him. How Killian doubted he’d ever be able to repay Liam for everything he had sacrificed for him.

The swings on the playground halfway between Emma and Killian’s houses soon became their ‘spot.’ They would meet there and walk to school. Nights after Emma got off work, they would linger there on the swings, toes digging into the sand as they idled, talking and prolonging their time together before going their separate ways.

One night after Emma had gotten home from her shift, she saw her foster parents sitting at the dining room table, papers spread out in front of them and reading glasses low on their noses.

“Emma, could you come here for a moment?” her foster mother called as soon as Emma set foot in the house.

“What’s up?” Emma said, setting her backpack on the ground and sitting in one of the chairs opposite them.

It felt strange sitting at the table with them since she usually closed at Granny’s and had dinner at the diner with Killian. She ate lunch at school and in the mornings Emma was in such a rush that she only had time to grab a few granola bars out of the pantry before heading out the door.

“Well, we were going over our finances for the month,” her foster father started.

“And even with the money we’re getting from the state,” Mrs. Smith said, “it looks like this month is going to be a little tight.”

“Oh,” Emma said, ringing her hands underneath the table.

Is this it? Are they going to send me back? God, how could I have been so stupid, thinking I could have found a home?

Emma glanced back and forth between her foster parents.

“Sweetie, we don’t want to worry you, but with the new clothes and school supplies we bought you, it would be nice if we could get a little help,” Mrs. Smith continued, placing her hand on Emma’s shoulder.

“I can pay you back for the clothes,” Emma said quickly, an anxious knot forming in her chest.

“Could you? That would be wonderful,” she said with a smile.

But Emma still felt uneasy, despite her foster mother’s insistence that everything would be okay.

Storybrooke—Present Day

Killian’s feet pounded out the familiar path from Granny’s to the playground that stood between his and Emma’s old houses. He found her at the swings, listlessly swaying back and forth, her feet never leaving the ground.

“Thought I’d find you here,” he said, slightly out of breath as he sat in the swing next to her. It was a bit of a tight fit, but Killian managed.

“You know after you get yelled at by someone you don’t really want to sit next to them on a swing set,” Emma said, tone drawl as she looked away from him.

“Look, Emma,” Killian sighed, “I’m sorry I said all those things to you.”

“You were a real asshole back there.”

“You’re right, I was.” Killian looked down at his lap. “I just didn’t know what to say to you. I know that’s a shit reason and doesn’t excuse my behavior.”

“You know, it makes it hard to stay mad at you when you talk like Mr. Darcy,” Emma huffed.

“Aye, and I know that you’ll try your hardest to stay mad at me,” Killian smirked at her, catching her eye. Emma’s lips twitched up into the smallest of smiles, but Killian knew he was far from forgiven.

“That doesn’t mean that I’m letting you off the hook,” Emma said. “It wasn’t easy for me to come here tonight.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“It was just too hard to come back,” she explained. “I didn’t even tell Mary Margaret I was coming until I was in my car on the way here. Even then, I had to fight with myself to not turn my car right around and head back to Boston.”

“They aren’t here,” Killian said. Emma’s eyes snapped up at his words. “I don’t know if Mary Margaret told you, but both of them were arrested about a year after you left.”

“Serves them right,” Emma said, kicking the ground, “but that’s not entirely the reason I almost didn’t come.”

“Oh? What’s the other reason?”

“Come on, Killian, you know why.” Emma turned in her swing to face him, her eyes locking with his.

Storybrooke—10 Years Ago

A new quarter started and Emma could hardly believe she had made it this long with a new foster family. Both she and Killian had passed their midterms and Mr. Spencer had agreed that Emma was doing well enough that she didn’t need the required tutoring anymore.

“You know,” Emma said on their first day back from Spring Break, “you don’t have to keep hanging out with me in the new quarter. I officially don’t need a tutor according to the school.”

“Oh,” Killian said, looking down at his notebook. “I mean, I understand if you’d rather be doing other things during study hall, but if you wanted to keep studying together, that’d be cool too, I guess.”

“You still want to?”

“Of course I do,” Killian smiled, suddenly shy. “I mean, we’re friends. Why wouldn’t I want to hang out with you for an extra hour a day?”

“You’re such a sap, you know that?” Emma smiled and sat down next to him.

“Only for you, love,” he grinned. “Are you working tonight?”

“No. Granny decided to let me have the day off since I worked so much during the break. Why?”

“Want to come over to my house and watch a movie?”

“Sure. I just have to stop by my house to grab a couple things real quick.”

The end of the day couldn’t come fast enough for Emma. She had been to Killian’s house plenty of times before, but she still couldn’t stop the small, excited flip in her stomach every time he asked her to hang out outside of school.

Killian walked Emma home, where Emma popped in to tell her foster mother where she was headed.

“Oh and, Emma?” Mrs. Smith called just before Emma was out the door. Emma had been afraid of that tone because she knew it well, and she knew what was coming next.

“Yes?”

“I hate to ask you again, but, well...You know how cold it’s been and we’ve been running the heat a little more than usual?”

“It’s okay, I understand,” Emma said, feeling her cheeks burn since Killian was standing right there by the front door and would undoubtedly have questions. “Can we do this later, though? Killian and I are on our way to his house to watch a movie.”

“Emma, why doesn’t your friend get a head start?” her foster mother suggested, a sudden coldness behind her eyes.

“It’s okay, Emma. I’ll meet you at the swings,” Killian said before backing out of the house.

“You know, I’d have thought you’d be a little more grateful,” Mrs. Smith said, looking down her nose at Emma.

Emma wrapped her arms around herself, feeling very small under the gaze of her supposed “guardian.”

“I am—” Emma began.

“We knew that taking in someone your age and with your history was going to be a challenge,” she continued. “And my husband and I are trying to make your life here comfortable. You must know how difficult it is for us to ask you to contribute. Our daughter worked all through high school and she was happy to share her earnings with us. Now, if you feel like you’re too good for that then maybe I should just call your social worker and we can see about getting you moved in with a better foster family.”

“No, no,” Emma shook her head, her throat tight and her eyes clouding with tears. “Please don’t call her. I promise I can contribute if that’s what you want me to do. How much do you need?”

“How much did you make in tips over school break?”

“About two-hundred dollars,” Emma admitted quietly.

“Perfect! I think one-hundred should be enough to help us. Thank you so much for contributing to the family, Emma.” Her foster mother wrapped her arms around her, but Emma felt no warmth in her embrace.

Emma felt her heart rise to her throat as she walked upstairs to her bedroom where she kept the jar with her tips. She counted out the money with shaking hands before going back downstairs and shoving the money into Mrs. Smith’s hands.

“I’ll be back later,” Emma said as she walked out the door, feeling a weight settle on her shoulders.

She tried to shake it before Killian could tell something was wrong.

“Hey, are you okay?” Killian asked when she finally made it to the swings.

“Just a disagreement with my foster mom, but it’s fine. I handled it,” she said. “Let’s just get to your house so we can watch a movie and eat too much popcorn.” She tried to laugh, but it came out hollow and forced.

“Really? Emma, does that happen a lot?” Killian asked, concern all over his face.

“Does what happen?” she asked, trying to sound casual.

“Your foster mother basically asking you to pay rent.”

Emma thought for a second about how easy it would be to just tell Killian everything, but telling Killian would probably just cause more problems. He would tell his brother, and God only knows what Liam would do.

“It only happens every once in a while,” Emma explained, looking at Killian’s forehead instead of his eyes. “But please promise me that you won’t tell anyone about this?”

“Emma—” Killian took her hand and gave it a squeeze.

“Just promise me,” Emma said, forcing herself to look into his eyes.

“Okay.” Killian still looked worried. “But if there’s something wrong, you can tell me.”

“I know that, but really it’s fine,” Emma said. “So what movie are we watching?”

“Princess Bride?” he offered.

Emma knew he was only suggesting it because it was her favorite, but she didn’t call him out on it since she could use the comfort of the classic.

“Only if I get to freely quote the movie no matter how annoying you think it is.”

“Deal,” he smiled reluctantly, and they sped off to his and Liam’s small cottage near the docks where they spent most of the afternoon watching movies and pelting each other with little popcorn kernels.

After The Princess Bride, they put in Pirates of the Caribbean since Emma still didn’t want to return to her house.

“Why don’t you stay for dinner?” Killian asked as the credits rolled after the second movie.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Liam’s making spaghetti and it’s one of the few recipes he doesn’t mess up.”

“Well, when you put it that way, it’s simply an offer I can’t refuse.”

They both shared a quiet laugh and Liam came home not much later, a spark of recognition flashing across over his face when Killian introduced her to him.

“So you’re the Emma I’ve heard so much about,” Liam said. “Well, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Killian’s told you about me?” she asked, looking at Killian who was now a brilliant shade of pink.

“Can hardly stop talking about you,” Liam grinned.

“Okay, I think she gets it, brother,” Killian gritted through his teeth.

“Oh, so you’ve asked her to Spring Fling already then?” Liam asked. Emma gasped and looked over at Killian, who looked just as shocked.

“No, I hadn’t gotten a chance to yet, but thank you, Liam,” Killian growled.

“You were going to ask me to a dance?” Emma said, a nervous giggle erupting out of her mouth.

“Aye, before this git ruined it.” Killian blushed even harder.

“I’m only trying to help you out, little brother,” Liam said before leaving them for the kitchen.

“So the cat’s out of the bag, I suppose,” Killian said, scratching nervously behind his ear.

“Yeah, I guess I should get a dress then,” Emma smiled at him.

The grin that spread across Killian's face was the brightest that Emma had ever seen.

“You’re serious?”

“Of course. I’d love to go as friends,” Emma said.

She didn’t miss the flash of hurt across Killian’s face.

“As would I, Swan,” he smiled quickly.

They heard Liam calling to them from the kitchen, and less than an hour later they were having a delicious spaghetti dinner to celebrate.

But as Emma walked home from their house later that night, she couldn’t get Killian’s faltering smile out of her mind.

Storybrooke—Present Day

“What are you saying?” Killian asked her. “Killian, I don’t think it should surprise you that when I first met you I was really jaded towards the whole high school experience. I didn’t see the point of making friends because I was sure I was just going to be moved in a few weeks, so...what was the point?” She sighed, gathering her thoughts before she continued. “Then I met you and not only did you want to be my friend, but you wanted to be more.

“And that scared me more than I expected it to. And then you did what you did and...that just felt like a punch to the stomach.” Emma looked down at her hands, sniffling and blinking quickly. “It felt like you were trying to get me rehomed, which I know sounds crazy now, but I was so scared and I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“Emma, those people were financially abusing you. I couldn’t not say anything,” Killian said, reaching out to thread his fingers gently through her hair. He thought of the last time his hand had caressed those golden strands on that last night before she had disappeared.

“It wasn’t your secret to tell,” Emma said, pulling away from his touch.

“Aye, I know that now.” Killian looked down at his feet before looking up into her eyes once more. “I’m sorry, Swan. I never should have told anyone without coming to you first. You’re right, it was your secret to tell.” He took a deep breath and shook his head “I just couldn’t stand by and watch you be taken advantage of by those people. You deserved, you still deserve, to be treated with respect and kindness.”

Emma nodded. “I know now that what you did back then was for the best. Actually, I’m glad you did it because it means that those people are never going to get the chance to manipulate another child like me. Of course, at first, I was furious at you. That’s why I didn’t reach out.

“But as time passed, I was able to look back on the situation as an adult and I just felt so grateful and then so...guilty about what I said and how I left and...I did want to contact you. It was just that, so much time had passed that I was sure you had moved or changed your number. And even if you hadn’t, why would you take my call anyways? You probably hate me for the way I left.”

“I could never hate you, Swan,” Killian assured her.

“You sure?” Emma sighed. “I would hate me.”

“I’m not going to lie. I was angry for a long time and t I’ve let that go.” He shook his head. “But I could never hate you, love. There wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t think of you.”

Emma looked overwhelmed by his statement, her eyes wide and her lips parted as she tried to search for something to say. Finally, she settled with, “Good,” a small, nervous smile on her face.

Storybrooke—10 Years Ago

Emma was going to a dance. Not only that, but Emma was going to a dance with a date.

A small part of her wanted to scoff that dances were lame and so was anyone who wanted to spend the night in an uncomfortable dress inside a gym that smelled like socks. But Emma couldn’t help feeling excited.

She finished up her shift at Granny’s, tip money and her paycheck burning a hole in her pocket as she wandered over to the boutique down the street from the diner. As she walked in, she saw some other girls her age shopping for dresses, each accompanied by their mothers. Emma felt a pit in her stomach; she didn’t want Mrs. Smith shopping with her because Emma knew her generosity came with a price. She felt it was best to simply use her own money to buy what she needed.

Emma began flipping through the seemingly endless racks of dresses, anxiety settling in her chest since she had no idea what she was even looking for.

“Emma!” someone called from one of the rows of dresses.

Emma looked over and saw it was Mary Margaret with her mother.

“Hi,” Emma smiled, suddenly grateful to have someone she could bounce ideas off of.

“What are you doing here? Are you going to the dance?” Mary Margaret asked excitedly.

“Yeah, I am actually. I assume you’re going too?”

“Definitely. My boyfriend David asked me today at lunch,” Mary Margaret said, looking over at the pile of dresses Emma had slung over her arm. “Is there someone helping you pick out a dress? Mrs. Smith?”

“Oh, um, no. It’s just me,” Emma said, hoisting her mountain of dresses higher up her arm.

“Did you want help, hon?” Mary Margaret’s mother offered.

“Oh no, it’s okay. Thank you, Mrs...”

“Blanchard. But please, call me Eva. And really, it’s no trouble at all. This place can be overwhelming.”

“No, really—” Emma began again.

“I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer,” Eva insisted with a warm smile.

Emma finally gave in and shopped with Mary Margaret and her mother, and she couldn't help but compare it to the time she and her foster mother had gone shopping. Instead of hurriedly shoving clothes at her, Eva carefully considered each girl’s selection of dresses with care and thoughtfulness before handing them a few to go and try on. Then she would sit patiently and ask for poses and spins from the both of them and Emma felt a contentedness she had never felt before as she and Mary Margaret picked out their dresses.

Emma realized that while she might not know what it was like to go shopping with her mom, she did know what it was like to shopping with a girlfriend. And she had loved every minute of it.

The days leading up to the dance flew by and before Emma knew it, she was in her bedroom the night of the big event, zipping up her dress and putting on her shoes. She stood in front of her mirror admiring her reflection, something she rarely did. The fuller, pale pink skirt of the dress almost made Emma feel like a princess, and she could practically see Killian and her moving together across the dance floor.

It made her stomach flip.

Emma heard her foster parents’ car start and back out of the driveway outside her window. She hadn’t mentioned the dance to either of them, hoping to avoid the awkward pictures they seemed to like taking, judging by the numerous photos they had of their daughter scattered across the mantle.

Emma grabbed her purse and after making absolutely sure they were gone, went to meet Killian at the swings.

“Wow, you look—” he started when she came into view, his eyes wide and a smile on his face.

“I know,” Emma blushed, grabbing his hand. “Come on, we don’t want to be late.”

“You’re excited for this, aren’t you?”

“Well, I’ve never been to one of these things before. Don’t want to miss anything,” she said as they hurried down the street.

The dance was everything Emma could have wanted—she and Killian danced, they ate, they laughed; she never wanted the night to end. When the dance was officially over at half-past ten, Emma’s feet hurt, she was tired, breathless, and had never been happier.

“Thank you for this,” she said as he walked her home. Emma had told him she could walk on her own, but he had insisted.

“Thank you for coming,” he said. “Did you have a good time?” He looked down somewhat sheepishly.

“Of course I did,” Emma said, taking his hand again. “I couldn’t have asked for a better night.”

“Me either,” he said with a small grin of his own.

They had reached her door, but Emma wasn’t ready to say goodbye and it seemed Killian wasn’t either.

“Do you know what would make it just a bit better though?” he asked.

“What?”

“A kiss, maybe?”

“You want to kiss me?” Emma asked, her heart beating so fast she was sure Killian could hear it.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while now.”

Emma didn't know what to say, so she didn’t say anything. Instead, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his.

She’d had other kisses before, but none of them had ever made her feel like this. She was completely weightless and her knees went weak as she leaned into him. He wrapped his arms around her and as they broke apart, her hand found his collar and she gripped it like her life depended on it. His hand caressed her face before catching a lock of hair between his thumb and forefinger.

“That was...” Killian breathed, his voice gravelly and hoarse.

“Something we’ll have to do again sometime,” Emma finished as she took a step back. “I’ll see you on Monday?”

“Monday? Yeah, th-that sounds great...Yeah, I’ll see you then.” Killian stumbled over

his words, his cheeks flushed and his smile bright.

Emma smiled and walked up the pathway to her front door, feeling like her feet were barely touching the ground.

She opened the front door as quietly as she could, taken by surprise when the living room light flicked on.

“How was the dance?” Mrs. Smith was sitting there on the sofa, hands folded in her lap, and contempt dripping from her words.

“It was fine,” Emma said, starting up the stairs and hoping to avoid whatever tirade was about to come.

“And that dress, is it new? The shoes? The makeup?” her foster mother continued to question.

“I paid for it all myself, with the money I got from Granny’s,” Emma explained, halting halfway up the stairs.

“How nice.” Mrs. Smith stood. “And while you were out, did you happen to tell anyone about our little arrangement?”

“What?”

“I got a call today from your social worker.” Mrs. Smith crossed her arms thoughtfully and tilted her head. “She was concerned that we were stealing money from you. Now, who would have told her something like that?”

“I don’t kn—”

“Your little boyfriend, that’s who,” Mrs. Smith snapped, following Emma up the stairs. “Did you tell him about our arrangement?”

“No, of course not,” Emma said, tears stinging her eyes.

“Bullshit. You’re not as dumb as you look. You think I didn’t know there was a dance tonight?”

“I-I—”

“I-I-I...Maybe you are stupid,” Mrs. Smith sneered. “Maybe that’s why no one wanted you.” She was towering over Emma, her eyes snapping down to Emma’s dress. “This piece of trash isn’t even worth the money you paid for it. You wasted a good hundred bucks buying all of this shit. Money I could have used.”

“It’s my money!”

“NO, IT’S NOT!” Mrs. Smith roared. “You live in my house, you eat my food, you wear the clothes that I bought for you. You owe me that money for everything I do for you!”

Emma could only stare up at her, unable to speak or move as Mrs. Smith shook with anger. Then, after a moment she said, “Get out.”

Emma’s eyes widened. “What?”

“I said, get out! Go down to the bank and withdraw every penny you spent on this night and pay it back to my family. Then leave.”

“But I don’t have enough to do that!”

“Well then, we’ll have to make another arrangement. How about no food for a week? Or you can sleep in the garage and freeze. I don’t care! Whatever it takes, you are paying me back!’ Mrs. Smith grabbed Emma’s arm and forced her down the stairs. She tried to struggle but ended up twisting her ankle on the bottom step.

Emma limped out of the house, her mind racing with a million thoughts. She knew there was no way she was going to continue living in that house; she’d rather live at her old foster home.

Tears started falling down her face as she wondered how she could have been so stupid, thinking she might have actually found a family.

Emma looked back and saw the tree that nearly touched her bedroom window and before Emma knew what she was doing, she was climbing the tree. Breaking into her room was easy enough—she never bothered locking her window and the screen popped out easily. Emma quickly and quietly gathered all of her precious possessions —an old tattered copy of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, a mood ring she’d won from a claw machine, the baby blanket she’d been found in—and shoved all of them in a duffel bag. She looked down at her dress before gently pulling it over her head and folding that into her bag as well. Emma dressed in jeans and a sweater and, taking care not to make any noise, carefully climbed back out the window.

Storybrooke—Present Day

“How’s Liam, by the way?” Emma asked. “I feel really awful for the way I spoke to him.”

The question, as innocent as it seemed, hit Killian like a punch to the gut. Although he’d answered this question plenty of times before, it never made it any easier.

“Liam’s gone. There was an accident at the cannery about a year after you left.”

“Oh my God, Killian. I’m so sorry.” Emma reached out and placed her hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, it’s...well it’s not alright, but it’s—” Killian struggled to find a way to put his feelings into words.

“I understand,” Emma said. “Are you okay?”

“I suppose. I worked at the cannery after graduation to help pay for college. Same accident took this from me too.” Killian held up his prosthetic hand.

Without hesitation, Emma gently took his prosthetic hand in hers, studying it for a few minutes. Her eyes flickered back up to his and they reflected the sorrow that Killian still felt in his heart.

He pulled his hand back from her and cleared his throat.

“The settlement money helped put me through school and now I’m a teacher at our alma mater.” He tipped his prosthetic towards her and tried to grin.

“I feel awful—” Emma started.

“Well, don’t. None of this is your fault.”

“But I’ll never get to apologize to him.”

“It’s okay, really. He understood. He just...always wanted to help people, you know? He thought he was doing what was right.”

“He did. If it wasn’t for him, that family would have kept bleeding me dry.” She paused, and then with a small smile added, “Plus, if it wasn’t for Liam, you probably never would have asked me out.”

“Hey, I had something very romantic planned. The bugger just had to ruin it,” Killian laughed. And to his relief, so did Emma.

Storybrooke—10 Years Ago

Emma stood outside of Killian’s house, trying to figure out which window was his, having never been in his bedroom before. Her duffel bag was at her feet and her pockets were full of the money she had just emptied out of her account.

Once Emma figured out which window to aim for, she began tossing small rocks at it until Killian, bleary-eyed and hair ruffled from sleep, opened the window.

“Swan, what’s going on?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.

“Did you tell anyone?” Emma tried to keep herself from shouting.

“Tell anyone what? Emma, what’s wrong?”

“My foster mother got a call from my social worker. Someone told her about her taking my waitressing money.”

“I didn’t call her,” Killian said, hand coming up to run through his hair. “Liam—” he started hesitantly but stopped when a light flicked on behind him. Emma could barely hear Liam enter Killian’s room, but Killian didn’t tear his eyes away from her. “Why don’t you come inside?” he asked.

Emma waited impatiently for Killian to come and open the front door before storming inside and right up to Liam. “Did you call CPS?”

“Emma��” Liam started softly.

“Did you call CPS?” she demanded again.

“Yes, okay? The Smiths weren’t treating you right,” Liam said. “I was in high school with their daughter. She didn’t work a day in her life; they lied to you. Her mum and dad paid for everything. Those two are already getting money to foster you, they don’t need to be taking your money too.” Liam crossed his arms over his chest and stood straight, not backing down.

“You ruined everything!” Emma tried to blink away the tears that were clouding her vision.

“Swan...” Killian stepped towards her and tried to put a hand on her shoulder, but she twisted out of his reach.

“And you!” Emma turned her anger towards him. “Why did you tell him in the first place?!”

“Because you needed help,” Killian said, voice shaking.

“I don’t need you or your brother to save me! I’ve been taking care of myself my whole life and I can keep doing it without either of you!” Emma turned on her heel and walked out of the Jones brothers’ cottage without looking back.

“Swan! Please wait,” Killian said, running after her. “Where are you going to go?”

“I don’t know...somewhere. Anywhere is better than here,” Emma snapped, grabbing her bag off the ground.

“Please, just stay here with us. We can help you.” Killian grabbed hold of her arm and Emma looked into his eyes, eyes that were almost completely colorless in the moonlight. Eyes that only a few hours ago she had never wanted to look away from.

“I don’t want your help,” Emma growled, wrenching her arm out of his grip. She hoisted her bag over her shoulder and turned around without looking back.

By the time the sun rose, Emma had walked through most of Storybrooke to get to the bus station, where she had spent the last few hours. She had a one-way ticket to Portland, Maine and from there she would find another place to run to since running was what she was good at. She wasn’t the girl who got to enjoy school dances or made Honor Roll. She wasn’t the girl that could have a boyfriend. She was a runaway—just a kid practically forgotten by the system, unloved and unlovable.

These were the thoughts running through Emma’s mind as she took her seat on the bus and leaned her head against the window.

“Ticket, please?” the bus driver asked as he walked the aisle. “Are you okay?” The concern in his voice caught her off guard.

“Yeah, why?” Emma answered, handing him her ticket.

“You’re crying,” he said.

Emma reached up and felt her cheek, wet with fresh tears.

“Oh, it’s just allergies. I promise.” Emma forced a shaky laugh as she wiped her eyes with her sleeve. The bus driver appeared unconvinced but moved on to the next passenger anyway.

Emma slumped into her seat and leaned back, the tears free-flowing down her face no matter how much she willed them to stop. As the bus roared to life and pulled out of the bus station, Emma turned to get one last look at Storybrooke. The smaller the town became behind her, the more Emma realized how much she wanted Killian to be in the seat next to her, running off to wherever it was she was headed next.

Storybrooke—Present Day

“Can I ask you one more question?” Killian asked as their laughter faded.

“Shoot.”

“Are you staying the night here?” Killian blushed, realizing how forward he sounded.

Emma nodded. “I am, actually. I got a room at Granny’s.”

“Any plans for tomorrow?”

“No,” Emma smiled. “Not yet.”

“Good. Good,” Killian nodded. “Well, I’m actually very busy,” he said. Emma laughed and gave his shoulder a small shove. “But I think I can take you to dinner if you would like?” he added shyly.

“I think I would like that,” Emma smirked at him. “But I need to know for sure.”

“And how will you do that?” Killian asked, realizing that their faces were now mere inches apart.

“I have an idea,” Emma whispered before leaning in.

Their lips met and Killian’s mind went wonderfully and blissfully blank of all thoughts that didn’t involve the woman in his arms. All he could think, feel, smell was Emma—her hair, her skin, her lips.

He drank her in then, as he did that night all those years ago.

“Are you sure now?” Killian asked as they broke apart.

“I’m very sure,” Emma chuckled. “We talked about the past all night. I think tomorrow we can talk about the present, and maybe even the future.”

Killian smiled and leaned in once more, their kiss sealing a promise to let the past go and to look finally towards the future.

Together.

#cslb #captain swan #cs ff #cs au #cs fic #cs crew #my fic #it's finished yall #it is DONE!#tw financial abuse #tw verbal abuse

147 notes · View notes