I own nothing except my delusions.


Emma had run her whole life.

As a child she had been placed in foster home after foster home, never finding somewhere that she could actually make her home. When she had been with Neal the first time, they constantly moved. They didn't have a home, but for the first time, she wasn't alone. The first time she really settled somewhere was when she changed her mind at hearing the wailing of her baby, suddenly knowing that she couldn't give him up. She vowed to make a life for her and Henry as soon as she left prison, leading her to finally make a home for herself and her son.

Her little family had grown since then, meeting friends who became the family she had never had. David and Mary Margaret Nolan had become an integral part of her life since they came to her by way of Regina Mills, Henry's foster mother in the months Emma had to remain separated from him.

The young couple had been old friends with Regina in the sleepy town of Storybrooke, wanting to begin their life as newly weds in a new city. They had instantly taken a liking to Emma, proposing to her that she follow them with her son to Boston to start a new life. Though hesitant at first, she agreed. She never regretted the decision.

It had only been a matter of time before she would have to run again.

She just never had expected it to be caused by the dead reanimating and tearing apart civilization.

Glancing over at Henry, she was met with satisfaction at the sight of him sitting beside her, his nose buried in one of his books around where they kept their small camp's fire.

"Doing okay there kid?" she asked lightly, just like she always had before everything fell apart.

Looking up from his book, he nodded. "Yeah."

Smiling softly, she sat beside him on the log that served as a bench, pushing her blonde hair back. "What're you reading?"

"Snow White," he responded, showing her the illustration of the black-haired girl wandering through a forest.

She nodded, watching happily as he moved the book back to himself to begin reading again.

Looking up, she watched the others that made up their group moving around the camp.

David sat at the log across the fire pit from theirs, disassembling some of their guns and cleaning them. They had been lucky in his career before everything had fallen apart; he had originally worked at an animal shelter, but had fallen into the Boston police department a few months before, granting him access to their locker and the guns in it. They tried to use the guns as little as possible, trying to conserve as much ammunition as possible, and carrying the knowledge that sounds attracted the dead.

Emma carried her own gun, something she had gotten when she began working in bail bonds, and something she was grateful she had the foresight to obtain. The gun had saved their lives on multiple occasions.

Beside David, Phillip, along with Mulan, gave maintenance to the multiple knives they carried. Knives were in a way preferable to the guns. They were quieter, drawing much less attention, but could only take out one of the undead at once, and required them to get closer to their target, risking being bitten.

To Emma, the smell was another reason to just avoid the dead, the sensation while preferable to being bitten, was no less appealing.

Mary Margaret had it the most convenient in some ways. An avid archer who was taught by an old boyfriend when she was young, she nearly always hit her target. Her skill was surprising given the ex-school teacher's appearance, with her black pixie cut and wide green eyes, who always dressed in feminine skirts and dresses. She was able to take out her targets with ease from a distance, or even merely peircing through the skull by stabbing through the brittle bone with an arrow.

The most motherly of the group, she was stationed near Emma and Henry, going over their stores of food, determining how much of the rations they had before they would need to go on another supply run.

Glancing around, Emma spotted Aurora and Kathryn doing some of the more domestic work around the camp, trying to provide some normal stability to the camp.

It had seemed strange in a way to Emma that Kathryn had fallen back into their group, considering her history with David. They had been engaged, long before Emma had visited Storybrooke, their wedding only a couple months away, when he had met Mary Margaret, leading to the couple beginning to constantly fight before finally ending the engagement. Kathryn had left the town to attend law school soon after.

After a couple years, David had run into Kathryn again, who had become a district attorney in Boston around the time David had joined the department. Both happily married, they were civil, before becoming friends, before deciding to join a group to try to survive.

Fredrick, Kathryn's husband and a gym teacher, had been a big assert to the group, always willing to go on supply runs. He had even managed to produce a crude alarm system for them, alerting them if anything tried to enter their camp.

Emma liked the couple, even having been skeptical at first. Kathryn turned out to be genuine, getting along with Mary Margaret, and often even going out, resulting in them trying to drag Emma with them.

"Emma," a voice broke her from her musing, drawing her attention to the tall figure that stood beside her.

Lance, and old friend of Mary Margaret's, had kept in touch since she and David had left Storybrooke, having actually been in the city for a visit to them when everything happened. A fierce and honorable friend, he stuck beside them, even going with David to help Emma get to them so they could all flee the city.

"Everything okay?" she asked him, peering up at him from her spot beside Henry.

He nodded, putting her at ease. "Yeah, I was just going to go out to check the traps. I was wondering if you would be willing to help so it will get done faster."

"Yeah," she nodded. "You going now?"

"I'm about to," he responded. He glanced around the camp quickly before looking back at her. "You take the east, I'll take the west?"

She nodded. "Sure. Just give me a minute?"

Nodding, he stepped back to prepare for going out of their camp and into the forest.

Turning to look back at her son, she ruffled his hair affectionately.

"Be careful?" he requested nervously.

Henry always became nervous whenever she left their camp, whether it be for supply runs or just to check the perimeter. Despite his young age, he was being forced to grow up in a world most adults couldn't handle. He was growing up much too fast for Emma's liking, having seen some of the horrors of their new world.

"I always am," she responded, leaning forward to kiss his hair. "Stay close by David and Mary Margaret, alright?"

He nodded, closing his book and going to where David was cleaning the guns, hazel eyes alight with interest. Making sure he was settled, she went back to her tent to retrieve a bag for whatever had gotten in the traps, along with sticking an extra knife in her belt beside the one she always carried on her. Making sure her gun had a full clip, she exited the tent.

Briefly considering just blowing him off, Emma rose up, walking across the camp to where Neal rested in one of the trees, keeping watch.

"Hey," she called, getting his attention. "I'm going out to check some of the traps."

Neal shrugged, looking down at her once before returning to his watch. "Okay. Your point?"

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she released a breath.

"The point is, me and Lance are going to be leaving the camp for a brief period," she said calmly. "Just- just keep an eye out for trouble, and don't shoot us thinking we're them."

Blowing out a hard breath when he ignored her, she turned her back, moving to enter the trees east of the camp and past the alarm system, silently cursing Neal as she moved.

If it wasn't for Henry, she knew that he wouldn't be in her life at all, but because of him, she was willing to tolerate her son's father.

Neal had been reluctant to go with them to try migrating back to Storybrooke, all because his father had happened to settle there years ago. His unwilling to go had prompted a huge fight, one where Emma accused him of letting his family issues endanger their son's life. Neal had been furious at the accusation, and planned to go his own way, but had decided to leave with her and Henry when they joined Mary Margaret and David last second.

Despite its dangers, Emma found the forest peaceful. Even after, it remained the same, few humans having touched it. She felt like she could easily get lost in it, finding her own serenity away from everything, to forget.

She found the traps closest to the camp to be empty, but expected it. Usually they had to go to some of the snares farther away, but had gotten lucky on many occasions before. She was just grateful they even had a forest to hunt and scavenge in.

Quietly walking through the brush, she checked the surrounding area, keeping an eye out for any movement.

Reaching one of the snares, she grinned triumphantly, seeing a large rabbit caught in the trap. Freeing it from the rope, she stuffed it in her bag and reset the trap, loosening the slipknot and covering it with leaves to await its next prey.

Her trip produced her with two more rabbits, both of decent size as she moved deeper in. Preparing to check the last of the traps, she heard the wet, stomach turning sound of flesh being ripped appart, as well as the wheezing groans of a walker.

Pulling one of her knives, she carefully set her bag down on some tree roots, slowly creeping to the source of the noise. Even if she could easily slip past it, killing it meant one less they would have to deal with.

Peering around a tree, she saw the walker beside a deer, ripping it apart and voraciously eating it. Wrinkling her nose in disgust, she watched it for a second before its eyes caught her.

Dropping what she thought was a lung, the walker rose, releasing a raspy groan as it snapped its rotting teeth at her.

As it stumbled toward her, she took in the sunken features, rotting skin and dead gray eyes trained on her as it drew closer, red blood and bits of organ smeared over its mouth and in its teeth.

Jumping forward to meet it, she quickly drove the knife through its head, piercing the brain. The walker collapsed, falling in front of her.

She wiped her knife free of blood on its shirt as she inspected the area for any more of the dead.

Though she couldn't see or hear anything, Emma felt the uneasy feeling of being watched. Logically, she knew if it were another walker, they would have come at her, making its presence known already.

Chalking it up to paranoia, she looked mournfully down at the deer, knowing it would go to waste. No one was willing to sample any meat a walker had ripped into, meaning the deer would be left behind.

Leaving the carcasses, she walked back to the tree, wanting to get to the last snare and head back. Checking the sun, she knew night would fall within a couple hours as she began moving to the last trap.

Finding with one last stroke of luck that it had something, she placed the final rabbit in the satchel, satisfied with her haul, despite her feeling of unease persisting.

She set off on her hike back to the camp, wishing to get back, to leave the woods.

Listening for anything that could have been following her, she made it to about half way back to the camp before she heard anything, a quiet rustling alerting her to something.

Her hand going to her knife immediately, she spun around toward the noise, watching the trees.

Seeing movement, she pulled the knife, readying herself to attack just as a man broke through the trees, his hands raised in submission.

"Easy, lass," he said in an accented voice. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Emma took in the stranger, seeing his relaxed stance as he moved toward her as if she were a skittish animal. He was without a doubt attractive, his features handsome. His dark hair contrasted with his lightly tanned skin, with bold, expressive brows to match. The hair that decorated his jaw was dark, red hues catching in the sunlight. He had the brightest eyes Emma had ever seen, brilliant, piercing blue. His attire showed of a strong, lithe body; tight dark jeans hugging his legs and a black button up covering his torso, the top buttons undone, showing of a smattering of dark hair, only interrupted by two pendants, a skull and a dagger, around his neck. He wore a leather jacket, which when shifted, showed he was armed.

"What are you doing out here?" she asked, her voice steady.

"I'm merely scouting the area," he replied. "Seemed as though there's a camp nearby. And judging by you," he lowered a hand to gesture to her, "I was correct."

She narrowed her eyes, watching him. "How?"

"The traps," he answered easily.

"So have you been following me?" she asked suspiciously, the stranger putting her on edge. "Who even are you?"

"Killian Jones," he responded easily, giving her a small bow that would have been modest if not for his cocky grin. "At your service. And I haven't been following per say. I've been waiting to see if anyone was truely out here."

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, Emma watched the man, Killian, for any threatening moves. She couldn't sense and deception from him, his intentions seeming genuine, but they had run into others already with less than honorable intentions.

"And why is that?" she questioned.

He shrugged. "Survival. Same as you. I've been looking for others, for a group to possibly join."

Lowering her knife, she kept it out while simultaneously letting him know he could relax.

"Are you out here by yourself?" she asked, wanting to know if there were others.

"No," he shook his head before giving her a flirty grin, moving closer, but she still didn't feel threatened. She noticed he wore a single black stone in his right ear. "But I promise you, I have no qualms if you wish to keep me to yourself."

Snorting, she threw him a withering look. "Please. I'm not interested, buddy."

His grin grew in response, completely unashamed.

"Well, no reason we can't be friendly," he replied, unfazed by her rejection. "But what do you say, love? Will you allow me to accompany you to your camp?"

She couldn't find anything suspicious about him, even if he was a shameless flirt. Quickly thinking over her options, she knew there was little risk in taking him back with her.

She just had to figure out who was with him.

"You said you were with some others?" she asked, wanting to know who she was up against.

"Aye," he responded. "I split from them to check out the land. We set up a grid, looking for a place to temporarily camp, before I stumbled on your traps. They took the west side, and I took the east."

Unable to find a lie, she nodded in acceptance.

"I'll take you back," she decided. "But don't think I'm taking my eyes off you for a second."

"I would despair if you did," he smirked back.

Deciding to ere on caution, she had him walk slightly in front of her so she could watch him. His shoulders set in an easy, unconcerned stance, he calmly walked where she directed him as she watched him from behind.

"I didn't catch your name," he said, curiosity lacing his tone.

"Emma," she told him. "Emma Swan."

He nodded, a small, satisfied grin tugging at his lips.

"So, where did you start out from?" she asked, wanting to see what type of person was to be joining their group, wanting to see how far he'd traveled.

"Pigeon Cove," he responded, his tone making it clear he was hiding something, something he didn't wish to talk about. "We've been moving around a lot, and have been just trying to find someplace even for a short while."

She nodded, feeling a small pange of sympathy. She knew what it was to be lost, to have to constantly move.

"How many are with you?" she asked, trying to determine what their numbers would be.

He turned back, smirking slightly. "Afraid my attentions will be diverted elsewhere, love?"

Snapping forward, Emma pulled his head back by his dark hair, her knife at his throat.

"Let me tell you something about myself," she said in a low voice. "I have something like a superpower. I can tell when someone's lying. So I would suggest you don't do it, and answer the question."

Before he could respond, David, Mary Margaret, Lance, and two other men she didn't know but suspected were with Killian broke through the trees, looking at her holding Killian with a knife to his throat with shock on most of their faces.

"Emma," Mary Margaret gasped, her green eyes wide as she took in the scene.

One of the men, clearly the oldest of the new group, released an exasperated sigh. "Little brother, what did you do now?"

Killian looked over at him, his face pinched in annoyance. "Younger brother."


Author's note: Okay everyone, here's the first chapter to my Walking Dead AU fic. Just to give everyone a heads up, especially of you're familiar with and following my other work, this will not be updated on a weekly basis, as this one is more of a side project. I will go for updating this story monthly at least, but I will finish this no matter how long it takes. I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter!

Review?