Chapter Text
New home, new school, new “family”, same routine. At age 11, Emma Swan had already lived in five houses and been to four different schools. She hated how she would finally get settled in with one foster family, with the new school, meet people, then get transferred without a chance to even say goodbye to her few friends.
Now she was standing in 10 degree weather, snow gently falling and tickling her nose. Wearing only a thin Miami Dolphins sweatshirt and a pair of jeans she has had since the third grade. Her new older foster brother, August, let her borrow his sweatshirt for school, insisting that he wasn’t just going to let her freeze. Of course her new foster home would be in ice cold Maine.
No one else stood at her bus stop, probably getting rides to school from their parents in their nice warm cars. Emma closed her eyes imaging she was on the warm beach in sunny Florida. She hummed at the thought.
Hmm… warm, sunny Florida.
She was so caught up in her daydreaming, she almost didn’t hear the bus pull up. Emma heard the loud engine and opened her eyes. The doors jarred open, a very disgruntled, and apparently impatient, bus driver staring out at her.
The blonde climbed the steps and walked into the walkway. She walked through the aisle, passing full seats and a few you-can’t-sit-here’s. A girl whispered, “Ew It’s the new girl. The orphan girl.” Another one spoke, “She can’t even afford a winter coat,” followed by laughter from her friends.
“Hey leave her alone!” A scrawny boy with an accent and a mop of hair the color of the night sky stood up.
“Shut up, Ireland, don’t forget that you don’t have parents either!” a boy called out at him, laughing.
The boy, Ireland, shifted his gaze over to her, staring at her with big blue eyes. “Just ignore them. You can sit with me.” He smiled at her, letting her sit down first.
“Thanks.” Emma sat down. “I’m Killian. Killian Jones.” He sat down and held out his hand.
“I’m Emma. Emma Swan.” She jokingly mocked his introduction. Killian laughed and smiled at her. “Swan. I like it.”
Emma shivered and he noticed, taking off his way too big leather jacket, draping it over her shoulders. “Here, this is my older brother’s jacket, it’s a little big, sorry.” She smiled and pulled it tight around her. “Thank you so much.” She got a whiff of his coat, the smell of the sea and, what was that, cinnamon?
“They’re real jerks, you know?” He told her.
“I’m used to it.” She shrugged, frowning.
“A pretty girl like you should never have to go through that.” He tucked a loose strand of blond hair behind her ear. Emma winced and turned away, staring out the window. No one cares about me, don’t let him fool you Emma.
“I’m sorry, I really am, I was just trying to be nice, I didn’t mean to offend you, love.” He apologized. “No, no it’s okay. I’m just not used to people being nice to me.”
“Well, I care about your feelings.” He pulled her head to look at him. “I just can’t take the chance that I’m wrong about you.” She looked away again.
Killian grabbed her hand gently. “Try something new, darling, it’s called trust.”
~CS~
“C’mon Kill! You really suck at climbing, you know.” Emma shouted from the abandoned tree house. “I’m coming! I just… I hurt my arm so it’s hard to climb.” Killian came up with an excuse.
“Your arm was fine two minutes ago! Hurry up!” Emma yelled back.
Emma had spent the most time she’d ever at one place. The little yellow house on the corner had been her home for five years now. Killian only lived a few blocks away with his brother in their small, one bedroom house. Killian, now seventeen, and Emma, now sixteen, were the closest friends the little town of Storybrooke had probably ever seen. They hung out every day after school at his house. Emma practically lived there, since all she did was hang out for hours, eat their food, and occasionally crash on their couch. She had the closest thing to a family she’d ever had.
Killian finally made it to the top, out of breath in his scrawny body. He pushed his glasses up on his nose. “I’m up here, now what is it you wanted to show me?”
“This.” She held her arms out for effect. “You wanted to show me this empty tree house, why?” his face showed no signs of impressment.
“Okay, just imagine this… in that corner, the little couch that Mr. Parker gave me, in that corner, the little table that your brother doesn’t want anymore,” She continued on. Killian smiled wide.
“And how are we supposed to get that stuff up here?” He smirked. “I don’t know! I was hoping you would since you have all those brains of yours.” He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by Emma’s foster mother shouting for her.
“I gotta go, Kill. Love ya!” She descended down the tree with ease. “Don’t leave me, how am I gonna get down, lass?”
“Figure it out!” She laughed running away to her house.
~CS~
“No, no! I can’t leave! I have to say goodbye! I have to!” Emma yelled, throwing her backpack full of her things on the loveseat. “Emma, they’re already here, they can’t wait any longer, I’m sorry.” Emma stormed off away from her foster mother.
The social workers came and took her things, bringing her out to the car. She stared back at the little yellow house and the blue one that sat two away from it, watching as Killian ran inside.
That was the last she saw of the boy she loved.
~CS~
She stared down at her bloody knuckles, trying to ignore the throbbing in her skull and the fist fight she’d just had with her soon-to-be ex-husband, Walsh. She didn’t want to think about how he called her worthless, pathetic, disgusting, weak. No, Emma Swan was not weak, that’s why she finally hit him back, once in the gut and twice in his pathetic face, knocking him right out. No, she was not weak, she was strong.
It was probably 3 in the morning, the minor med being surprisingly empty, save for the crack addict in the corner scratching himself and the beautiful man sitting next to her, looking too healthy, like he had absolutely no reason to be in here. She realized she’d been staring and quickly averted her eyes.
“You must’ve hit ‘em hard, lass.” He spoke with an accent, of course he would have an accent. “Pardon?” She looked over and was met with eyes the color of the deep ocean.
“You must’ve hit ‘em back hard.” He pointed at her knuckles. “No one who hits weak would have knuckles that bloody.”
“You’re right, I did hit him hard. He deserved it.” She nodded, applauding herself internally.
“I don’t mean to pry, but who was the bloody arse that did this to you?” He looked at her with sincerity in his eyes. “Just my drunkard, soon-to-be ex-husband.” She felt tears burning at the back of her eyes, threatening to fall.
One fell and he noticed. “I’m sorry, love, I didn’t mean to make you cry, I am so sorry. I can be so insensitive sometimes.” “No it’s fine, you did nothing wrong.” He wiped a tear away with his thumb. “He doesn’t deserve you. No one deserves someone as beautiful as you.”
She turned away quickly. “I’m sorry again, I’m such a bloody fool, don’t know when to shut my mouth, do I?”
“I’m just not used to people caring.” She kept looking away. “I care.” He turned her towards him.
“Ah, where are my manners? Lieutenant Killian Jones, at your service.” He did a tiny bow in his seat.
“Killian?” Emma’s eyes grew wide. “Do I know you, lass?” he raised an eyebrow.
“It’s me, Emma, Emma Swan!” She smiled wide. His eyes went wide in realization. “Swan!” She pulled him into a tight hug, one of his arms going around her. “Bloody hell, where did you go?”
“Social services came and took me away, they wouldn’t even let me say goodbye. Hold on, Lieutenant?” She pulled back and stared at him.
“Former Lieutenant, actually. I still use the title.” He explained. The door opened and a nurse stepped out. “Killian Jones.” She called.
“I’ll be out soon, Swan.” He grabbed a crutch from beside him, putting the cuff around his wrist. He pulled his left arm out of his jacket pocket, revealing a covered stump where his hand should be, using it to push himself up. He used the crutch and his left leg to drag his right leg behind him, limping through the doors.