Lost Girls

It was her twenty-third birthday when the Swans suddenly reentered her life because of course. They seemed to have a thing with her birthday. But there had been a knock on the door and a baby-faced intern for some law firm out of Boston asked for Emma Swan.

"This is for you," he said, handing her an envelop and then, when he stood there, staring and obviously expectant, Emma handed him a tip that seemed to finally startle him into leaving.

She opened the envelop and read, blinked, and then read it a couple more times before stuffing it in her back pocket when Neal had entered the kitchen, brimming with excitement over the surprise he had planned for her birthday.

(It had been a trip to Cape Cod for the weekend. Which she had known about for weeks. Because Neal sucked at keeping secrets. Also, the beach on her birthday had become a sort of thing.)

Remembering the disaster that occurred the last time the Swans had become an issue, Emma neglected to tell Neal anything at all. In fact, she didn't say anything to anyone about it until her second breakfast of the day with Effie, interrupting her friend's lengthy tale about her adventurous date the night before with an abrupt, "I need a favor."

This was how they ended up hurtling down the interstate toward Boston, Effie on her cell, using her police connections to track down an address Emma probably shouldn't have been asking for.

They parked across the street and sat. Emma hadn't yet decided if she was waiting, stalling, or just losing her mind.

"You should read this," Effie told her, waving the letter that had been stuffed in with everything else, and Emma knew better than to be surprised that Effie had taken some initiative.

"No."

"Seriously though," Effie insisted, "I get why you wouldn't want to and everything, but I also remember what you asked me when I wanted to get custody of Saff, right." Emma frowned. "You remember. You said it was a big responsibility and I had to be sure because I wouldn't be just her sister now, I'd have to be her parent too. And if I wasn't sure then I shouldn't do it because it wouldn't be fair to her."

"Right," said Emma carefully, "but they had already said -"

"And I had already told Saffron I'd take her in," said Effie flatly. "That she wouldn't have to move across the country to live with our deadbeat dad. Long before I knew anyone would give me custody. I didn't think about it, I just did it. Because I loved her and I wanted her to feel safe and so I hoped it would be true." Emma stared blankly and Effie rolled her eyes. "They love you, Ems, and they want you to be safe and they had hoped they could adopt you but sometimes circumstances change and tough decisions have to be made." She cocked her head to the side. "That's what you'll find in the letter. If you ever man up and read it." She set the envelop on the dashboard and opened the door, nodding down the street, "I'm gonna see if I can get a coffee from that cafe down there. Just think about it, okay?"

Emma nodded and swallowed thickly, thinking about the letter and the other that came with it. The ones the lawyers had written, informing her about a savings bond the Swans had set aside in her name, along with a bunch of other legal mumbo jumbo. And then there was that donation to the Youth Center back in Tallahassee. None of it made any sense.

Just like it didn't make any sense that she would sit back and actually read the letter. Everything inside her screamed that she shouldn't. But she did.

And then, perhaps the least sensible thing of all was when Emma slipped a photo of Porter out of her back pocket. She scribbled out a name and his birthday and then, for some strange reason (but maybe because that bond meant that Porter would definitely have the future she almost didn't), she wrote thank you before she slipped out of the bug and put it in their mailbox.

Effie, who had sneaked back into the car, smiled when she returned.

And maybe Emma hadn't understood then. About how someone could make a promise they didn't know they could keep, but she was starting to understand now.

Emma followed Carina as far as she could. She sat with her in the back of Effie's car, passing along as much info to Effie as she could and then conspiring with her to hide the full extent of Porter's involvement. She then weaseled her way into the exam room at the hospital where Carina got poked and prodded. Emma gave her a hand to squeeze and Carina clung to it through the exam and the follow-up interrogation, both getting asked an awful lot of questions. Emma fudged details with a master hand and confronted the overly intimidating officer whenever he took things a step too far, expertly backed up by Effie when she decided, "Enough is enough," because his questions were clearly far too intrusive for a little girl who had a long day that would end in an unfamiliar place.

(Carina would have to answer the questions eventually, of course, but it could wait.)

Emma, however, could only do so much. Despite Effie's badge and her and Neal's numerous connections, Carina would get placed in a foster home while her caseworker conducted a thorough investigation about Carina and her family and how she could have possibly come to live on her own. After, when they had a pile of paperwork and probably more questions than what they had started with, they would decide how to move forward.

It left Emma with this horrible, sickly feeling in her stomach and before she could really process the meaning and potential consequences, she abruptly offered, "She could stay with us."

She knew the rules of course and didn't need the stern look on the social worker's face to know that it would never fly. But the words settled and it felt like the right solution so she barreled ahead, making a case she hadn't exactly prepared for under the critical gaze of Mrs. Baxter.

"She knows us and she clearly trusts us. We have plenty of room for her and you know me and Neal." They tended to cross paths with a number of social workers these days thanks to their respective jobs. Far more than Emma would like. "You know that we have more experience with this type of stuff than most people and isn't that better than putting her with strangers given all she's dealt with. All she's going to have to deal with?

"Even if that is true, Ms. Swan," said Mrs. Baxter, clearly skeptical, "It goes against rules and regulations. We can only place children with certified foster parents."

What Emma really wanted to do was make a scathing comment on the supposed rigid screening process of the system, but anger never got her anywhere with these people and so instead, with a forced calm, she said, "I'm not sure you can find anyone more official than Youth Advocate and the Assistant Director of the city's most popular Youth Center."

"I'm sorry, Ms. Swan," and she almost sounded it, "but my hands are tied."

Swallowing down the sudden urge to punch something, Emma masked her frustration behind a reassuring smile and her best, nothing-to-worry-about eyes as she made her way back into Carina's room, the facade nearly crumbling as she laughed at some cartoon on the television.

Emma settled into the chair next to the bed and taking the remote she nodded at the tv, "Can I?"

Carina shrugged and Emma shut off the television, forcing herself to look the little girl dead on.

"So Mrs. Baxter out there," she gestured toward the window that overlooked the bustling hall, pointing out the official looking woman talking on her cell phone, "is going to find you a real nice place to stay, okay?"

Carina frowned, "But Mommy ..."

"I know." The words came out harshly, but now was not the time to tell her the truth about her mother. It didn't matter what Emma thought of her. So she gave a tight smile and softened, "I know it's not what you wanted. I know it's not home. But it will be warm and you'll have lots of food and a place to sleep. You'll be safe."

Carina remained silent and unwavering, even as Emma leaned forward, running a hand over her freshly washed hair, pressing a gentle kiss against her temple, whispering, "But I haven't forgotten my promise."

And she wouldn't. They just had two very different ideas about what, exactly, that promise meant.

"I will help you," she swore, wrapping her hand around Carina's and, when she refused to open her tightly clamped fingers, Emma leaned back, pointedly setting a frayed piece of paper onto the nightstand, "And if you ever need anything, anything at all, then I want you to call me."

The paper was acknowledged with a flicker of the eyes and Emma climbed awkwardly to her feet, ending with "I'll see you later, Carina," because a straight-up goodbye felt far too much like giving up.

She spent the ride home, head leaning heavily against the passenger's window of Effie's car, coming up with plans and back-up plans and then constructed a list of things she and Neal needed to have a long talk with Porter about.

Effie, for once, spent very little of this time trying to fill the silence. Not until they had come to a stop in front of the house. "It'll be alright."

Emma raised a brow. She wasn't so sure, but she asked anyway, "Did you ever regret making that promise to Saff?"

"No." The word came with ease and confidence, but Emma still doubted it.

"Really? Not even when it looked like it wouldn't work out?"

(Because talk about impossible. Effie had been a struggling college student at the time, fighting her estranged father after her mom had passed. Real lawyers wouldn't take her on and Emma, anyway, had been all they could afford.)

Effie smiled, "You were fighting for us. Of course it was going to work out." Emma rolled her eyes and Effie shrugged, "It's true. Besides it gave her something to hold onto."

Emma frowned. "Isn't that false hope though?"

"Only if you don't follow through."

Emma smiled tightly. Because see? She wasn't so sure she could.

X-x-x-x-x-x-X

Eliza hadn't. It was harder to hold it against her now, but it was still the truth.

It had taken an unfortunate set of circumstances but she had, somehow, managed to find herself in a room with Eliza Swan, the intern that had delivered the letter and details of the savings bond returning some time later with some grave news. Only it turned out he wasn't just the intern.

"I'm Hugo," he said, looking far worse than the last time she saw him, "Hugo Swan."

The surprise of it had caused her to nearly slam the door in his face, keeping the barrier between them, until he screamed the fact, "Mom's dying."

She faced him then, her features set in grim lines, her body rigid as she listened, "She has cancer. The doctors have done all they can. And now," Hugo swallowed thickly before he choked the words out, "Now she wants to say goodbye."

Neal appeared behind her and, after a long argument that Emma somehow lost, she, Porter and Neal found themselves following her almost brother up to Boston.

Bennett, now frail-looking and grey, greeted her awkwardly and it looked like he wanted to hug her, but he settled for an awkward handshake before he nodded at a closed door. "She's right through there."

Emma didn't approach the bed. She didn't sit down. She didn't say a word. She just stood stiffly by the door and tried not to think about how frail and weak Eliza looked. In her memories she was an amazon - strong and beautiful, commanding yet gentle.

"Emma?" Eliza croaked. Which was strange because she hadn't opened her eyes. "Emma? It's you, isn't it. Even at two the smell of cinnamon always seemed to follow you around."

"Yeah," she started, but her voice cracked and the word failed to reach a volume suitable for human ears so she tried again, and this time her voice came out too loud, "Yeah. It's me."

She turned, squinting, the simple task seeming to take an impossible amount of effort. The gentle smile that followed, one that Emma had held onto longer than she should have, came with a certain ease. "You're beautiful."

Emma shifted uneasily. "I don't understand you."

"No," Eliza agreed, the word garbled by a sudden coughing fit. Emma hesitated and then stepped forward, handing her the cup of water on her bedside table. She drank greedily before continuing, "No, I don't suppose you would. You'll let me explain though, won't you?"

Emma shrugged and tried for something nonchalant, "Sure."

It wasn't like she could deny a dying woman what she wanted.

(Though honestly? She wanted to know. Probably more than she should. )

Eliza didn't say anything at first and for a moment Emma thought she must have fallen asleep, but when she finally did speak, her voice seemed to regain some of its strength.

"I had wanted to make it official since the day we'd brought you home. Bennett had his reservations. Not that he didn't adore you, but he had just started his new business and they hadn't turned much of profit yet. He seemed to think that meant no one would approve our application and maybe they wouldn't have. But it did take off - "

"You seem to have done remarkably well," noted Emma dryly.

"Yes, well." Eliza coughed and sipped some water and then continued on, "Hugo was a surprise. A brilliant one, of course, and I know what you must think -"

" - It doesn't matter -"

"No," said Eliza with a sudden sharpness that wavered soon after, "No, it does. I've thought about it for years. Worried how we could have done things differently. Wondered if we should have listened -"

Emma furrowed her brow, "Listened?"

"He just showed up one day," she said, "out of the blue. The boy that found you on that highway. You know that story, don't you?"

"Yes," said Emma carefully.

"He just showed up and he said he hadn't just found you. He had come with you. He was your protector."

It was then Emma realized that Eliza, sick as she was, probably had enough drugs in her system to keep her stoned out of her mind.

"This was a mistake. I should - "

Eliza's hand shot out and with cold fingers, she grabbed Emma's arm with a surprising strength. "We didn't believe him at first either. It was a child's tale, really. Literally out of a fairytale. It had other worlds and curses and saviors. He told us that you had a destiny, Emma, and that we needed to make a decision. Because either we could help you fulfill it or we needed to do the right thing and let you go. Of course, how could that possibly be the right thing? Even if it were true. And when he left we laughed and put the visit right out of our minds. At least we tried to."

Eliza paused to drink and really, this was so much worse than Emma imagined. But the worst part? She couldn't even get mad. Not in a serious way. Not when Eliza really truly believed what she was saying.

"We didn't think anything of it until one day - I must have turned my back for two minutes and when I looked back ... Well, you and Hugo were covered in jam. It was your favorite." She smiled fondly. "This horrible, purple sticky stuff that you always seemed to find your way into. No matter where I put it. Finally, I found a place that was out of your reach. But there you were and I knew then that boy was telling the truth."

Emma scoffed. "Because I got into some jam? I have a kid, Eliza, they get into shit -"

"The cabinet was locked, Emma." There was a weight to her words that made Emma swallow her own. "But there were other things. Strange things. Strange enough that we realized the boy was telling the truth."

The hand that held her in place had fallen away, but Emma remained fixed. "I'm not sure I understand what that is?"

"That you're from another world. That you were sent here to break a terrible curse. That you have magic."

The laugh that bubbled over was cold and mocking and, maybe, slightly hysterical.

"Emma -"

" - You know what? It's fine, Eliza -"

Eliza cut over her, "It was a mistake." Silence followed the announcement and Emma deflated. "We let him get in our head and I kept thinking. What if she does have a destiny? Am I the right person to prepare her for that? And the answer was no because the only thing I wanted to do was protect you from the world until you were prepared for it. But I couldn't prepare you for curses and magic."

"No," agreed Emma dryly, "that would be ridiculous."

"You think I don't know how this sounds?"

Emma sighed, "I think you're sick, Eliza."

"Yes, well -" Eliza took another sip of water. "It doesn't matter because it was a mistake. I was your mother," Emma's features tightened, "or I would have been and I should have never tried to let someone else tell me what was best for you. I should have known and I shouldn't have let some far off, distant thing control our life."

Emma swallowed thickly.

"I can't do anything to change that. I wish that I could. I really do. But I can't. You can though. You're gonna have a choice, Emma, whether you believe me or not. You're going to be faced with a choice." She smiled again. "I saw the picture. Your little boy? He's beautiful and he looks just like you."

Emma snorted in spite of herself. "He looks like his father."

"Maybe," she relented, "but he definitely has your chin. What I meant to say though, Emma, is -"

But Emma already had a pretty good idea and when the words came out they were also half-accusing. "I always put my son first. Always."

"Good," said Eliza hoarsely, "That's good."

"I should let you rest." She hesitated and then, before she could think too much and second guess herself she took that final step and leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Goodbye, Eliza."

Emma was at the door when she said it, barely a whisper, "I love you, Emma."

With the door closed behind her, Emma leaned heavily against it, squeezing her eyes shut tightly as Neal and Porter approached her, hugs and comforting words at the ready.

"It could have been worse," Emma told Neal when he asked how it went. Her eyes flickered to Bennett and Hugo standing silently in the corner and she lowered her voice even further. "She was high as a kite so ..."

Neal shuffled awkwardly. "Maybe we should -"

"Go," Emma sagged with relief, "Sure."

"Let Porter see her."

"No. What? No. No." The fact that Neal would even suggest it was baffling.

"I'll go in with him. Just," he shrugged helplessly, "she's about all he's gonna get for a grandmother. It might be good for him."

Emma sputtered, "How?" Did he not remember the dying part? Apparently not because, after Porter started to beg, they went in anyway before exiting five minutes later, Porter seemingly untraumatized.

"He just wanted to give her a hug," said Neal with a shrug as she lifted Porter, letting him settle on her hip, head settling in the crook of her neck.

X-x-x-x-X

She never bothered to tell Neal what Eliza had said, though he had asked. But on the one hand it was just the ridiculous ramblings of dying woman. On the other it felt private. It was a moment she had waited a long time for and she couldn't decide if it was disappointing or not. It certainly hadn't been what she expected. Because really, the only true dissatisfaction she felt was at the thought of a door closing that could never be reopened.

It was a stupid way to feel and Neal had a way of making it feel not stupid.

("She was a big part of your life," Neal kissed her temple as she cuddled into his side. "The good and the bad. It's like with my dad, right? No matter what he did I'll always love him.")

But he was good like that. In a lot of ways.

He even waited up for her well past midnight despite the long, trying day.

"Hey," she murmured walking right into his embrace. "You should have gone to bed."

He grunted an acknowledgment, waving this off, and she sighed, "How'd things go with Porter?"

He didn't say anything and Emma pulled back, finding a heavy look on his face. "Really? That bad? Did he -"

She trailed off, eyes catching a glimpse of Porter walking into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Mommy?

She rubbed Neal's shoulder apologetically, stepping back, "You should be asleep, honey."

"I wanted to see Carina."

Emma let out a heavy sigh and crouched in front of him. "She's not here, honey, but I promise we found her a real nice place to stay."

Porter's lower lip wobbled and Emma stood, lifting him into her arms as he asked. "But why couldn't she stay here?"

It was a short walk through the kitchen to the attached stables that Neal had converted into a set of rooms and Emma laid Port down on his bed, tucking the covers up to his chin, regarding him for a long moment before she admitted, "That's just not how it works."

"But you liked her, didn't you?" Porter prompted with wide eyes.

"Of course I did," agreed Emma, "but it's a little more complicated than that."

He looked at her skeptically and so she admitted apologetically, "I don't have a good answer for you."

"But your job," he cried, "you said -"

The sight of Porter so obviously upset was enough for Emma to forget her own exhaustion and nearly all the drama he had caused earlier. She smoothed his hair and shushed him, leaning down until they were practically nose to nose.

"I said that I always keep fighting for them," she reminded him in a low, soothing whisper, caressing his cheek with a calloused thumb, "until I know that they're safe and that's what I'll do with Carina too."

His lower lip wobbled. "You promise?"

"I promise," she swore and even though she probably would have promised him anything at this point, she meant it. "But we just have to be patient. These sorts of things take time."

He nodded and, quite unsuccessfully, tried to hide a giant yawn.

"Alright," said Emma, smiling fondly, "time to go to sleep. We can talk about it in the morning. Along with your punishment."

"Daddy said I'm not allowed to do anything ever again ever," Porter nestled deeper into his cocoon of blankets. "He was real mad."

"You scared him, Port," she smoothed back his unruly hair, "both of us. We didn't know where you were. Or how to find you." She regarded him critically. "You understand why you were wrong don't you?"

Porter nodded and then began speaking very fast. "Because I shouldn't wander off alone because it's dangerous and I could get hurt or lost, but Mommy. Carina was alone. I just wanted to help her. Like you and Daddy do all the other kids."

Her lips inched upwards, forming the slightest of smile of their own accord.

"And while that was very sweet of you, Port," she said, juggling the delicate balance of proud and stern, "sometimes the best thing we can do to help someone is admit we don't know how and ask someone else for help."

"But when I got help Carina was taken away and she really wanted to wait for her mom to come back." He leaned toward her, whispering conspiratorially, "she always comes back."

Emma smiled sadly.

"Just because she always comes back, Port, doesn't mean she should have left Carina alone." And, when she saw that Porter had scrunched his features in confusion, she asked, "What do Daddy and I do when we have to do something and we can't take you?"

"I have to go to a babysitter," he grumbled but then, as the obvious thought occurred to him, he brightened considerably, adding, "You can leave me alone if you want."

Considering the trouble he got into under watch no, they really couldn't. "That wouldn't be fair to you. Just like it wasn't fair to Carina that her mother just left her to fend for herself. You said it yourself, honey. Carina needed your help, right?" He nodded. "So think about how much worse off she would have been if you hadn't come along."

Porter bit his lip, understanding begin to form in his features, before he asked, "But why would her mom do that?"

Every answer she had - such as selfishness or unpreparedness or flat out neglectfulness - was worse than the last. She didn't know the full truth, and there was never a good reason, but she wasn't quite ready to paint over Porter's hopeful picture of the world with her own sourness.

"That's part of what we have to find out," she told him, brushing back Porter's hair soothingly, "but now, because you helped her, Carina will have a warm place to sleep and food in her belly and someone to hug her if she has nightmares."

Porter's eyes fluttered shut and she kissed his cheek. "I'll bet she'll like that."

Emma certainly hoped so. There was, however, the matter of one more things and in his sleep-deprived state she might actually get an honest answer this time around. "Porter, there's one thing I still don't understand. What did all of this have to do with Sam?"

"Nothing." He turned sheepish, "I needed a distraction. So no one would find her getting food."

Gotta love that eight-year-old logic. At least he had apologized.

"Mommy?"

"Yeah, honey?" She gave his covers another good tuck. Nice and snug.

"I'm really glad you're my Mommy and Daddy's my Daddy."

Emma smiled.

"We're really glad that you're our Porter." She tapped his nose playfully, getting a giggle in response, and then kissed his forehead gently, "Sleep now. I love you."

"Love you too, Mommy."

She turned the lights off and slipped out of the room, nearly tripping over Neal who had settled outside the door, his head leaning heavily against the wall.

"If it helps," she murmured, grabbing a hand and tugging him to his feet, "he's not declaring his undying hatred for you." Neal winced. "He's not."

"I was too harsh with him," he admitted, voice hoarse, as they stepped back into the kitchen, "just the thought of anything happening to him." He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, "I snapped."

Emma rummaged through the door for a fork and, realizing sleep probably wasn't gonna be an option tonight, pulled out the leftovers Neal had set aside for her, "I would have done exactly what you did if I had the chance. He needed that, Neal, so he could understand. The only reason you're feeling guilty right now is because he's Porter and somehow he's the sort of person that wraps his irresponsibility up in good deeds."

Neal snorted.

"But maybe," continued Emma after a few bites, "we agree that we can't give Porter quite so much freedom in the future."

"Right," agreed Neal flatly, "I'm sorry about that, Em, I -"

Emma cut him off with a wave of her fork. "It wasn't an accusation, Neal."

Maybe, if things had ended badly she would be singing a different tune, but Neal had been mostly right. They had both just failed to realized how resourceful Porter could be.

He accepted her words with a stiff nod, though he still looked like he had a fair bit of extra weight stuck to his shoulders. Something Emma suspected only Porter could chip away at.

"You got back pretty late," noted Neal, concern crossing his features, "Carina doing alright?"

"She's angry," said Emma bluntly, taking a large bite of pasta, chewing deliberately. "Scared, probably." She sighed, guilt twisting her stomach into knots. She had tried to paint it as a good thing to Porter, and it was certainly better than where she'd started the day, but it still felt like she hadn't done enough. "They're putting her in a foster home for now. While they do an investigation. But if they don't find any family that'll take her then it'll turn into a more permanent solution. Effie said she's going to look into it for me, but -"

Emma finished with a shrug. Typically these sorts of cases tended not to get the happy ending treatment.

Neal gave her an intense, pointed look.

"It's fine," she said shortly and then, following Neal's gaze, she found a half a plate of spaghetti wrapped around her fork. She set it down, pushing the plastic container away in frustration. "I don't know if I'm going to be able to keep my promise to her, Neal."

Emma focused on resealing her food, ignoring Neal as he studied her.

"Come here." He held out his hand, not wavering until she finally took it. He led her out of the kitchen, turning the lights off as they passed the switch, and then tugged her past the stairs that would have led to the comfort of their bed, instead leading her into the living room, settling down on their couch, patting the cushion next to him. When she didn't relent right away, he rolled his eyes and tugged until Emma collapsed next to him.

"It's late, Neal."

"I wanna tell you something," he said, "but lie down if you want."

"Can't it wait till morning." She'd already dealt with so many ridiculous conflicting emotions today. Now he wanted to talk about them?

Neal patted his legs. "Come on."

Emma rolled her eyes but laid down anyway, head settling on the arm rest as he tugged her feet into his lap.

"I saw you today." His hand wrapped around one of her feet and, with the perfect amount of pressure, began to give her a massage. "You were good with her. And I mean, I always knew that you were good at your job and that you cared about the people you took on, but I dunno - There's something about seeing you in action. I hadn't realized that you were that good."

Emma snorted.

"I'm serious," he told her and his hands continued expertly enough that her muscles at least began to relax even if the rest of her couldn't quite manage it. "But there's something different about this. Something personal. And it's not just that our kid got involved first. It's not even that'll he be disappointed if things don't work out quite like he planned."

"If I don't do my job correctly then it can have a pretty big impact on these kids, Neal."

"Hey." Neal threw his hands up in mock defense, causing Emma to protest feebly because she had actually started to get into the foot massage, thank you very much. Neal chuckled and continued, "I get it. I do. But that's not what I'm talking about."

She didn't say anything for a while and Neal continued his administrations, eventually moving on to her other foot. But no matter how good it felt (and Neal had become an expert on all things her body over the years), he was also quite good at knowing what buttons to push. He knew what to say and how far to take it and when to use silence until she just couldn't stand it anymore.

"The only way to really help her," admitted Emma, "was to put her in the foster system where she would have people to look after her."

"But you help foster kids all the time." His fingers trailed up her ankle and to her leg where he began kneading her calf muscles.

"Yeah." Her eyes drifted closed, "But with them, usually ... I dunno. I'm giving them a voice, right? I'm helping them fix their problems and maybe, when we're done working together, they've gotten back something they've lost. Or they have the tools to get it back, right? But this time ..."

She sighed. This heavy sort of thing, pleasure unwittingly mixing with the sound. But, somewhat disappointedly, Neal took no notice, not even when she tried trailing a toe up his thigh. Instead he just switched legs and prompted, "This time?"

She squinted accusingly, "You're teasing me."

"I'm helping you relax," he said pointedly.

"By teasing me."

"And you're avoiding the question. But I can stop," He raised a brow, releasing her leg, and Emma groaned in protest, "If you want."

"No," she grumbled because it had felt good and it had been a long day.

Calloused fingers found her leg again, "Finish your thought then."

She turned, eyes staring at wooden beams and high ceilings before finding one of the tall windows that usually filled the room with light. Sometimes, late at night, they'd catch some more nocturnal critters sneaking out of the woods and Emma, as much as she hated nature, had to admit it was kinda cool to have deer practically living on your doorstep.

(Less so when they were eating your garden.)

Nothing was out tonight, however, and so, like a dark secret, Emma admitted, "I took something from her. This girl? She'd already been left alone, helpless, and abandoned by the one person in the whole world that she have always been there for her and I took it."

"Took what, baby?"

"Her hope," she breathed.

Alone in the last place she had seen her, Carina probably thought her mother would still find her because that's where she would come back for her. Emma would stand by that decision to take her out - it was good for her both now and in the long run, but in doing so she had forced Carina to face the hard truth that her mother probably wasn't come back.

Neal shifted and squeezed a thigh. "Flip over, would you?"

"Neal." She had just admitted this horrible thing and she wanted the night to just be over already so that she could forget everything about this stupid, horrifying day.

"Turn over," he repeated more firmly, "I haven't finished yet."

"We should have done this upstairs." The words came out somewhat muffled as she flipped onto her stomach, pressing her cheek across folded arms, limiting her view to their blank television screen (no one ever remembered to close the cabinet doors).

Somehow Neal found a way to straddle her back without putting all his weight on top of her. "You would have fallen asleep. But first of all," his fingers dug into her shoulders, kneading them with a firm touch that he would need if he wanted to get all the knots out, "Hope isn't some finite thing. You can get it back. I'd think you would know that better than anyone."

Well, at least he hadn't tried to placate her with some of his optimistic mumbo jumbo about how she hadn't stolen all of Carina's hope. Probably because he knew how it felt. Just as well as she did.

But yeah, okay, maybe Emma had gotten better at looking on the bright side. Maybe.

"Secondly," he continued, hands blazing a trail toward her lower back, "we don't know what her experience in the system will be. Or even what things were like with her mother before. I know that you wound up in your share of sucky places, but she might luck out and not get one of the horrible ones. "

She sat up slightly, leaning on her elbows, pointedly ignoring Neal's attempts to chide her as she looked back at him, chin resting on her shoulder.

"That's the thing though," said Emma as Neal settled back into a sitting position, Emma twisting until she was propped up on her knees next to him. "You can wind up with the nicest people in the world and that doesn't change one very big thing. It doesn't change the fact that it's always temporary. They're not really your family. They didn't pick you. You don't even know if they really into the whole 'help out a kid' spiel or if they just needed a way to make a quick buck. You're an assignment and when you're gone they'll move on to the next one. Because if they really cared then they'd keep me."

Neal raised a brow, but Emma just barreled on ahead. "And you don't know if that's true obviously. But it's a thought," she tapped her head with a finger, "this tiny little niggle in the back of your head with each new home until you realize this hurts less if I don't get attached. You start to distance yourself and so, even if they do care enough to try and reach out, you don't let them in because you know that it won't last. And the next move just cements it. Over and over again."

Understanding and sympathy lingered in Neal's gaze. But not surprise. In fact, Emma had the distinct impression that he had always meant to lead her here.

"You can save people from a lot of things," said Emma heavily and, now resigned, she climbed to her feet. This time Neal let her go, "but you can't save someone from just being temporary."