His affection for her was ever so unwavering. It unnerved her sometimes, how deeply he felt for her, her misdeeds not giving him an ounce of uncertainty about his feelings towards her. The thick brick wall she had built over the years was beginning to become undone. He was her storm, her tornado, her earthquake, weakening her already-frail foundation, breaking her wall down one brick at a time.

She hated it.

Years of being thrown around foster home to foster home gave her good reason to keep her guard up, to not let anyone take advantage of her emotions. Not once would she let someone in, only for them to break her heart and leave her.

Ever since that third couple, who pretended, or perhaps truly did care for her, who gave her up when they adopted another kid, she forced herself to not take it personally. Still, it hurt for someone who'd taught her how to ride a bike, took her for ice cream after school every week, to give her up so easily. They didn't even shed a tear.

And neither did Emma. Her wall grew two feet tall and six inches wide. She was seven.

Emma, living in that Boston group home, was the quietest girl amongst the others. Not because she was shy, not because she hated them, but because she didn't care. She'd lost hope when the only other girl her age was adopted. Now, alone with only the company of five year-olds and the caretakers, she found herself staring at the wall a lot.

The times she looked at her reflection, she saw a young girl. She had wavy blonde hair framing a pale face, thin pink lips, a small nose, a strong jaw, and wide, empty hazel eyes. She looked so miserable, as if she'd never be happy again.

No one noticed. A few dozen bricks were added to her wall. She was thirteen.

As another girl was sitting in the backseat of a shiny corvette, waving and grinning to the girls seeing her off, Emma watched, unseeing. She was focused on the license plate, not from Boston. Oh, how she yearned to get out of Boston. She wanted to travel. She'd seen pictures of places all around the world, from the clear blue waters of the Caribbean, to the wildlife in Africa, and the ancient landmarks in Egypt.

After seeing countless films on movie nights, she wanted so much more from her boring, desolate life. She wanted a family – she wanted one so badly. She wanted to go to prom, she wanted to celebrate her sixteenth birthday with a group of her closest friends. She wanted a normal life. A life where she was wanted, where she mattered.

A life where she'd be hurt less. Three feet taller. She was fifteen.

Finally, after the women who looked after her for so many years, began looking at her less pityingly and began paying more attention to the younger kids, Emma decided to leave. No one would adopt her anymore. They didn't want an adult.

Taking with her what few possessions she owned, she left. She took two buses, a taxi, and a train all the way to Washington State. She wasn't sure why she chose there at first, then she remembered it was where the license plate of that corvette was from all those years ago. After realizing she had very little money left from the couple hundred donated by a worker at the Boston group home, she wound up stealing the keys to an empty motel room.

It was just so she could find shelter for the night from the pounding rain. Of course, they found her and kicked her out the next morning. Weeks later, she stole her first expensive item: a really nice BMW. The owners had left the doors unlocked and the key tucked into the visor. Rich people with too much money to spare were her saviours.

Of course, she had to leave town after that. She drove south for a while, not really sure where she was destined. That's how she ended up in Portland, Oregon. That was where it all started. Out of all alleys, she chose that one with the yellow Beetle.

That was when she found Neal. Her brick wall expanded into the goddamn Great Wall of China. She was seventeen.

Then there was Storybrooke. She found her parents, the famous Snow White and Prince Charming. She found her long-ago given-up child, Henry. She found the woman who caused her the years of hopelessness, Regina, the Evil Queen.

And Neal returned as Baelfire, another character from the supposedly fairytale land she was born in. Neal left her a decade ago to take the fall for those stolen watches. It was Neal who'd left her pregnant in prison. He gave her no choice but to give up her baby because she knew she couldn't take care of him. Couldn't give him his best chance if he grew up with her.

When he died, she died. Despite everything that had happened between those two, they'd been trying to make things better. For Henry. Still, she couldn't save him. Twice, that happened, and the second time was the end for Neal.

Neal was dead. Her wall began to crumble. She was twenty-eight.

Hook. Killian. Jones. Pirate. Captain. Mate. Friend. Lover. Enemy.

There were many names for the infamous, one-handed pirate captain, Killian Jones. But he was known to most as Captain Hook, a sharp metal hook in lieu of his left hand. Devilishly handsome, charming, flirty, Hook was the object of affection by most women he passed by (or the other way around in Emma's eyes). He was witty, uneasily fazed, and utterly annoying.

Just like the men in her past, he tried to woo Emma with suggestive innuendos and that intense stare he had. And just like the others, he failed to get a reaction from her. When they'd first met, Hook was initially attracted to her because of her looks. As he spent more time with her, her steadfast and determined personality grew on him.

She was much like him, in a way. They'd both lost someone important to them, left alone to people they didn't know if they could trust.

He supposed that was how he won her over. It certainly wasn't because of his good looks. It most definitely was not by him slyly poking fun at her and suggesting inappropriate actions during inappropriate times.

No, it was because he cared about her. Emma, who'd gone so long without anyone to love her, finally had someone who wasn't obliged to care for her like her family. Hook admired her for who she was, her criminal past hardly a problem for him.

He saved her life. She saved his life. They were forever indebted to each other as the cycle went on.

Then, after that terrifying trip back in time, where Emma knew her feelings for Hook were real. He loved her.

And she, him. The wall was gone. She stopped counting the years.