Chapter Text
"OW! Let go! You're hurting me!" The grip on Emma's arm was tight and unrelenting as foster dad #7 dragged her down the hall.
STOMP! STOMP! STOMP!
He opened the door to the cellar and—"OW!"
The floor of the cellar was cold and hard, and the cellar was small and dark. So small that the small blonde was almost surprised she even fit.
"And you're going to stay in there until you learn to show some damn respect!" The man's face was red, redder than Emma thought it had the right to be. "I feed you, I clothe you. I bring you into my home and this is how you repay me? With attiitude and balant disrespect?
"I didn't mean to!" Emma tried to explain, her voice almost pleading but foster dad #7 didn't listen—no one ever listened.
No one ever listened to her.
Not her social worker.
Not her foster parents.
Not the teachers at school or the other kids at home.
Even when the proof was painted on her arm or her face, no one ever listened to her.
It was like Emma was invisible unless she was in trouble.
If she had known all it took to get some attention was a broken cup, maybe she would have broken one sooner (or been more careful when she reached for her cup over supper).
Emma didn't get much sleep after her talk with Kidian.
“Bad things happen when daddys are tired.”
“Bad things happen when daddys are tired.”
“Bad things happen when daddys are tired.”
“They only happens to me though. Cause I’s bad and dumbs and I costs more and makes maman’s sicker.”
“They only happens to me though. Cause I’s bad and dumbs and I costs more and makes maman’s sicker.”
“They only happens to me though. Cause I’s bad and dumbs and I costs more and makes maman’s sicker.”
The things he'd said had brought up a lot of bad memories.
Memories of kids bigger than her tearing her down and destorying her dreams.
Memories of the people she loved and trusted the most betraying her.
Memories of being returned and shuffled and moved around with no warning because 'she wasn't a good fit'.
Memories of foster parents who never should have been allowed around children.
She hadn't been able to sleep more than an hour or two, to be completely honest (and not consecutively).
She couldn't stand seeing Killian so timid and small.
It wasn't like him.
It was weird, seeing her flirty, cocky, and self-assured pirate so young, vulnerable, timid, and scared—it felt wrong. This wasn't like him.
But it was him.
Just like it had been her, when she was that small and vulnerable and had just been returned by the family who had adopted her because they were having a baby of their own and didn't need her anymore.
No one had come to save Killian, just like no one had ever come to save her.
The only difference between them was that it was Killian's father hurting him and not a stranger who was only taking care of him for the money—and that Emma had a family to love and support her as an adult, while he had no one left.
"Penny for your thoughts?" David asked, setting a mug of freshly made coffee down in front of her and startling her out of the spiral her mind was going down.
"I was just wondering how we're supposed to get a vial of blood from Killian without freaking the kid out any further." It was a lie but her father didn't need to know that.
He didn't need the guilt of her crummy childhood weighing down on his conscience—not anymore than it already was, anyways.
The prince winced. "Oh that is going to suck."
The kid was already terrifed of him—David couldn't imagine he'd be any less terrified if he went after the poor kid with a needle the size of vial. Most kids were already terrified of needles: who knows how terrified a kid with a history of abuse would be?
Killian was three and he was already cautious of adults in a way most adults weren't. The last thing he wanted was to give the pirate-turned-pre-pirate more reason to be scared of him or Snow or Emma.
But it looked like they weren't going to have a choice.
They couldn't just leave Hook like that.
Killian's tiny hands clenched around Emma's jacket as David took a step forward with the biggest needle Emma had ever seen in hand.
She didn't blame the kid for being scared.
The sight of that needle made even HER feel a little queasy. Not that she'd admit it.
The little pirate buried his face in her neck and squeezed his eyes shut. "It ok?"
The blonde's breath caught in her throat, remembering the conversation they'd had the other night. "Yeah, Killy. It's okay. I promise. It'll be just like a pinch."
"Ok…" Killian didn't move from where he was hiding in her arms but he untensed ever-so slightly. "But I'm not gonna look!"
"That's ok. You don't have to look, little guy."
Fifteen minutes later, Killian was sitting on the carpet watching Saturday morning cartoons with a lolipop in his mouth and one of Henry's old stuffed animals in his arm.
Drawing his blood had hurt Emma and David a lot more than it had hurt Killian.
Thankfully.
Killian was mostly unphased, the blood was secured and on its way to Gold, and soon they would have Hook back in one piece.
Now, if only it felt like a win.