Title: A Life of It

Author: Roguie etc…

Part: 10/?

Fandom: Once Upon a Time

Characters: Emma/Killian

World: AU Modern

Rating: T, with the likelihood it will change to M over time, because I'm weak like that.

Warnings: Child abuse, bullying, mentions of potential molestation, all the bad things you'd expect to find in a poorly executed foster care system.

Spoilers: It's AU, so not likely.

Summary: Everywhere she was sent, he was there, her savior, the boy with blue eyes. He should have meant nothing to her, just another person that had to leave, but he meant everything. Against all odds, he kept coming back.

Disclaimer: OuaT is not mine, if it were, tackle hugs and sweet kisses would be our norm. Also, there would be way more, *cough*, sword practice scenes between our Captain and his Swan.

A/N: Yep, this is a little bit of a shorter part than y'all are used to, but bear with me, it's a busy day around here. If I can get more done today I will, otherwise, I thought I'd give you a little midnight growth between our two budding lovebirds. Oh, oops… did I let that cat out of its bag? :P~ I'm sure you all realized but I don't think our dear young Killian had any kind of a clue… Enjoy!

~~~?~~~

Killian Jones thought he knew hell until the night he left his Emmie to go back to a home where her body was no longer her own. He hadn't lied when he said his stomach would turn, walking away from the dinner Liam had prepared for him as bile filled his throat without mercy. He lay in bed that night, rage burning through him like a fever, every time he closed his eyes the images of Neal's hands on her body filling his minds eye, forcing him awake. When he did sleep, his dreams were filled of her, his princess, her pretty green eyes looking up at him with awe, her long blonde hair slipping through his finger tips, the way she fit so perfectly under his arm, her head always nestled so comfortably on his shoulder.

He ground his hand over his face trying to force away the images of Neal in his place, holding her, touching her, making her smile. More bile rose and he turned to his side, fighting the sick by sheer willpower alone. She had been his, one hundred percent his, and he'd thrown her aside for a shot at popularity. He deserved every minute of the torture, he knew this, understood this, but still he prayed for it to stop.

Mixed thoughts flowed through his mind as he struggled against the feelings tearing him apart. He ached for the little sister he'd cared for through so much and yet so little of their lives; another boy calling her sister was unacceptable. Neal hadn't been through what he and Emma had survived. He hadn't hidden under the stairs with her, holding her while she cried. He hadn't brushed her hair every morning for months when nobody else would give her that gentle comfort. He hadn't been the one to hold her hand while she willed away the pain of her latest beatings. He hadn't been the one to comfort her even while his own heart was breaking, letting her go with a smile on his face because she would go some place better. He hadn't been the one that made her entire face light up when she caught sight of him. He hadn't been the one that could take her tears and turn them into excitement. He hadn't supported her, comforted her, held her, and protected her. No, that had always been Killian's job, from the day they met until the day he broke the bond between them.

It made him ill to know that another boy was using Killian's mistake to get close to her, was using her for whatever pleasure she was willing to provide. A new wave of nausea passed over him, one that threatened to refuse control. Killian's hand came to his lips, his eyes rolling back in his head as the thought of Neal using what Killian had destroyed to get inside her.

"Fuck!" he hissed into the night, pounding his fist into his pillow as he desperately tried to chase away the images of Neal on top of her, inside of her. Would he be gentle? Would he even care? Was she anything more than a conquest that he could use as bragging rights to his friends?

Those thoughts tore Killian apart as he suffered through the night, aching to go to her, knowing there was nothing he could say or do that could make this any better. He'd said what he wanted to say, the ball was in Emma's court now. Whatever she was going to do, she would do and Killian had to accept that, but it didn't make the night pass any quicker.

It was four in the morning when his phone buzzed quietly on his nightstand, the screen briefly lighting up the dark room with an incoming message. Killian rolled over and grabbed the phone, glancing down at the unfamiliar number.

"Ruby said you wouldn't care if she gave me your number."

Killian bit his lip as he looked down at the carefully arranged words, hoping against hope the unfamiliar number belonged to whom he hoped.

"Princess?"

"Tarnished tiara and all."

A wave of relief rushed through him and he clutched his phone to his chest, thanking whatever gods were listening to his prayers that night.

"It's late, love. Why are you up?"

He could almost feel her shrug through the distance of the night.

"Couldn't sleep."

"Are you okay?"

The pause in response made his heart stutter in his chest, before finally the screen lit up once again.

"He's threatened by you."

Killian swallowed hard, closing his eyes, controlling his breathing with sheer will alone.

"Did he hurt you?"

Another pause.

"No. Not tonight. I don't think I can stay here much longer, though, not without…"

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Killian fought the primal roar that threatened to burst from his chest, he fought every instinct that told him to go to her and pull her out of that house, to keep her safe with him. Instead, his jaw twitched in the darkness, his fingers flying over the screen.

"What do you want to do, Em?"

"I want to be happy."

Fuck. The desolation in her words came through with resounding clarity; the ache that filled her heart spread and filled his own, binding them in the night.

"Does he make you happy, love?"

There was a long pause and for a few minutes, Killian thought she wasn't going to answer.

"Not the way you could."

"You don't need me to be happy, Princess," he responded automatically, trying desperately to remind her that she was a person outside of everything that had happened to them.

"No. I don't need you." A second text came through on the heels of that one. "But what if I want you?"

His fingers couldn't fly fast enough, making sure she couldn't mistake any time lapse for hesitation. "Then I'm yours, Princess. Just say the word and I'm there."

"I don't know what to do."

He sighed, closing his eyes tightly before gathering his words carefully. "Will he hurt you? Force you?"

"I don't think so."

"Are you being naive?"

"Maybe."

"Has he hurt you?"

"No. He's not a bad guy; he just doesn't care about anything as much as he does himself and his reputation."

"Is it safe for you to stay there? At least for a while longer while we figure out what we can do?"

"I think so."

"Then delete this conversation, Princess. We'll come up with something tomorrow."

Twenty minutes passed and Killian thought she'd done as he asked, and then hopefully managed to get some sleep. Instead, his phone vibrated again quietly.

"Killian?"

"Yeah, Princess?"

"I forgive you."

His chest cracked wide open as he stared down at the three little words that meant so much to him. Tears filled his blue eyes as he breathed in a deep, stuttering sigh of relief, fingers trembling as he texted back quickly.

"Thank you."

It was all he could say. It wasn't enough, but it was everything. When his phone went silent this time, she didn't text again, but when his eyes closed two hours before his alarm was set to go off, this time he was able to fall into a deep sleep.

His rest wasn't dreamless however, and waking he found himself more confused then he'd been before. His dreams were still filled of his pretty girl, her eyes dancing as she looked at him, her head resting on his shoulder, but in these dreams she pressed her lips to his, stealing his breath with her sweet kiss, making him ache in ways he'd never thought possible.

He climbed out of bed, running his hand through his hair as his eyes flashed to his reflection in the mirror, noting the flush on his cheeks, the spark in his gaze, and the distinct aura of need surrounding him.

"Oh, fuck," he muttered, closing his eyes quickly, drawing in a deep breath. It was in that exact moment he realized he was completely and utterly screwed.

~~~TBC~~~

Remember, much like magic all muses come with a price. This muse's price is that little review box down below. Please don't make her chase you for payment, it seems a bloody awful waste of her time, wouldn't you say?