Thank you so much for your patience (and, well, impatience. I say that with love ;D) and overwhelming amount of reviews!

Trigger: Abuse in this chapter.

(Also, please know that I have very limited knowledge at what is ahead in the chapter.)

Chapter 10 - Lovable - Part 2

Careless words -

Scars no one can see

How they hurt and cut you so deep.

But there are words

With the power to bring life.

Hear them now.

You're treasure in heavens' eyes.

Emma breathed heavily as she ran away from Mary Margaret's apartment and slowed to a brisk walk as she got further away. She didn't really have anywhere else to go as it was getting late so she decided to head back to her foster parents house.

She didn't want to leave Mary Margaret, but the woman was making her feel so safe... so warm... so vulnerable... It was causing her walls to crumble down. She had wanted to tell Mary Margaret about her foster father, so she could get away from him - and to go and stay with Mary Margaret-

She clenched her jaw.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Did she really think that Mary Margaret would want her? How stupid was she? Of course Mary Margaret wouldn't want her! No person in their right mind would want her! She wasn't even good enough for her birth parents - why would Mary Margaret care about her?

Emma reached her house and with a silent prayer that her foster father was still out, unlocked the door and slipped inside quietly. She cautiously listened out and when she heard silence, she quickly locked the front door back up and headed to her room. If her foster father got home, she didn't want to be caught off guard. She sat heavily on her bed and held back a sob. Why did her parents have to abandon her? All she wanted was a secure home - they couldn't have provided that for her?

Suddenly, the front door rattled loudly. She stood up.

Her foster father was home.

Her eyes widened in panic, and she carefully listened out.

"...Where are youuu?"

His speech was slurred, Emma noted, her chest tightening in anticipation. He was probably drunk again. She shuddered and braced herself.

A sharp bang sounded on her bedroom door, and Emma jumped. The door flew open and she gasped at the sight of him. He looked terrible; his clothes were torn and his left eye was covered in a black bruise. Upon seeing her, he narrowed his eyes as best as one can with a swollen eye.

"You did this to me," He growled, and Emma gaped, feeling panic grow.

"What?" She breathed quietly. She hadn't hurt him...

"You did this to me!" He repeated in a roar and reached out and grabbed the back of her shirt, hauling her into the kitchen and throwing her to the floor. Emma tried not to let the panic overtake her, but found it hard to when her ribs screamed at her in pain.

"I- I haven't done anything!" Emma cried.

"Yes, you have! When you came into this house! You took my wife away from me!"

As Emma could recall, Mrs. Black was a cold, ungrateful woman who tended to ignore her husband and Emma, and Emma had never liked the woman. How had she 'taken his wife away'?

Her foster father continued to look pain-stricken. "She left because of you! You drove her out! You did this! You!"

With that, he leaned over Emma and began to punch her in the ribs. Emma, not expecting the overwhelming surge of pain, screamed loudly.

"Shut up!"

He pinned her down with his knees and held her hands above her head and continued the assault one-handed, landing blows on her torso and chest. One particular hit to her ribs had Emma sobbing, unable to hold in her cries.

It was getting hard to breathe.

She needed to get away.

"You did this!" He repeated in a mad yell. "It's your fault! It's your fault that someone from the bar punched me because I was too upset about my wife! It's. All. Your. Fault!"

"No! Please! I promise!" Emma screamed out, desperate to stop the abuse. She honestly felt like she might actually die if he didn't stop.

He didn't.

"Stop! No! No..." Emma cried out again, her voice tapering out into sobs. Fortunately, her foster father stopped his abuse and leaned down close to her face. She couldn't look anywhere else but to the swollen face of her foster father.

"This isn't just punishment for my wife," He whispered in a cold sneer. "This is also for talking to that bitch adult that you seem to like so much."

Despite the circumstances, Emma felt a swell of anger underneath the pain.

"You don't know anything about her!" Emma yelled. She immediately regretted her decision when her foster father narrowed his good eye and resumed the attack, this time sending one punch to her face. She let out a pained gasp.

"That's for talking back, you little shit! And just so you know, no one will ever, ever want you!"

Emma sobbed quietly in response. She knew that he was right. No one would ever want her. Not her birth parents, not Mary Margaret, nobody. No one.

Suddenly, the front door crashed open, causing her foster father to stop hitting Emma and swivel around without standing. Emma couldn't see around her foster father's large body, and she couldn't get up either. All she could do was try to listen.

"You! Get away from the girl. Now!"

A voice was shouting. It was a man's voice, Emma noted. Who was this?

"I said, get away from her!"

Her foster father quickly climbed off of Emma and stood a few feet away from her, looking pale. Emma immediately saw a bearded man in a uniform pointing a gun out at her now shaky-looking foster father.

The Sheriff. Thank goodness.

Emma was so relieved that she felt a few tears leak from her eyes, and she worried that she might start crying all over again. She tried to get up, but it felt hard to breathe and her ribs were in screaming agony, so she decided to lay there and listen.

The Sheriff moved away from the open doorway and cautiously stepped closer to her foster father, releasing a hand from the gun to pull out a pair of handcuffs from his belt.

"Kevin Black," He began, and for the first time, Emma noticed the strong accent. He clicked the handcuffs firmly around her foster father's wrists. "You are under arrest for the abuse of a child. You have the right to remain silent."

Emma's eyes widened as she stared openly at the two men. This was it? It was over? But, how did the Sheriff even find out about this?

And that was when she saw Mary Margaret.

The woman was standing by the doorway, looking cautiously at the scene. As soon as she met Emma's eyes, she gasped in horror and raced to her side. Emma figured she must have looked a mess. Mary Margaret didn't seem to care, however, because she hovered over Emma and gently ran a hand through her hair.

"Emma... Oh, Emma... Honey..." Mary Margaret sobbed out. A few tears spilt down her fair cheeks and onto Emma's forehead. "I'm so sorry..."

"Why?" Emma asked quietly. The room felt like it was starting to spin - the only thing keeping her grounded were the steady fingers running through her hair. "It's not your fault."

Mary Margaret smiled sadly through her tears. "I'm sorry I didn't get here in time to stop this."

"It's... It's alright," Emma gasped out. Mary Margaret's face above her was starting to grow blurry. It was hard to breathe. Her chest felt like someone was wringing it like a sponge. She felt sticky and wet. What was happening?

"Graham! We need to get to a hospital!"

Why did Mary Margaret's voice sound so far away? Her eyes started to slide shut.

"Emma! Emma! Stay with me, sweetheart!"

Emma sighed and ignored Mary Margaret's panicked cries. She tilted her head to the side and allowed the darkness to consume her, finally feeling peaceful.

It was dark. Nothing hurt. It was peaceful. And suddenly:

"...How long until she wakes up, Doctor?"

"It's hard to say."

Emma heard muffled voices. She felt the darkness start to dissipate and she groaned softly. The pain was starting to seep back in.

"Emma? Emma? If you can hear me, squeeze my hand."

Emma felt like all of her strength had left her, but squeezed her hand as tightly as she could and felt a slightly calloused hand around hers. She began to hesitantly open her eyes. The first sight that greeted her eyes was a blond-haired man. He was wearing doctor's scrubs and his eyebrows were knitted in concern. One of his hands was clasped around one of Emma's. Emma glanced around and immediately noticed the white walls and beeping machinery. Another person wearing scrubs standing further back, writing something down on a clipboard. She was in the hospital.

The man carefully released her hand and pressed a button on the wall above her and the bed began to rise slightly to a seated position.

"What-" Emma croaked out. "What... happened? Who are you?"

The man gave a wry smile and handed her a glass of water from a nearby desk. Emma took it and sipped from the straw, the cool water giving her immediate relief.

The man spoke. "I understand you are a little confused. That's just the anaesthesia wearing off. My name is Doctor Whale. I'll be your doctor for the duration of your stay here."

Emma nodded slowly. Her brain felt fuzzy, and she felt like she wanted to fall back asleep, but more importantly, she wanted some answers.

"You were... Well... You were attacked by your foster father," Doctor Whale continued, sounding a little hesitant. "Your ribs were broken, and one of them punctured your left lung. You may have had difficulty breathing before arriving here. We managed to fix you in time, thanks to the Sheriff and another civilian. They saved you."

Emma nodded again, feeling slightly woozy from the new information. The Sheriff and... Mary Margaret?

"You don't have to worry now; your foster father is locked up. You won't ever have to go back to him."

The doctor's words reassured her, but Emma still felt an unsettling worry in the pit of her stomach.

"But... What will happen to me?" She asked quietly.

Doctor Whale grimaced. "I'm not sure. You'll have to talk to the Sheriff about that. He said that he'll come around later to see you."

She felt the panic dissipating a little and her eyes were starting to slide close.

"For now, just try and get a little more rest. Your body still needs time to heal," Doctor Whale spoke.

Emma didn't have a chance to respond, as her eyes shut and she felt at peace once more.

Mary Margaret clutched her cardigan around herself tightly, feeling anxious. She and Graham were sitting outside of the intensive care unit at the hospital. While Graham was sitting solemnly, Mary Margaret was fidgety and panicked.

"Do you think she's okay?" She asked nervously.

Graham shook his head. "I don't know."

"But Doctor Whale took her in over an hour ago," Mary Margaret reminded him unnecessarily.

"Mary Margaret -" Graham began, but stopped when he saw Doctor Whale himself walking towards them. Mary Margaret turned her head and jumped up at the sight of the man, Graham also standing up to greet him.

"How is she? Is she okay?"

Doctor Whale held up a hand to halt Mary Margaret's questions.

"She's fine," He reassured and both Graham and Mary Margaret sagged slightly in relief. "She has a perforated lung and a few broken ribs. We managed to patch her back up, and both injuries will heal over the course of a few weeks."

"Oh, poor thing... Thank goodness it was nothing major," Mary Margaret sighed, but Doctor Whale shook his head.

"There's more," He began grimly. He looked Mary Margaret and Graham each in the eyes, a sorrowful look in his own eyes. "How far did the extent of the abuse go?"

"I'm sorry?" Graham asked, sounding slightly bewildered.

Doctor Whale sighed, and reworded his question. "Were the attacks by her foster father just physical, or were they also sexual?"

Mary Margaret's eyes widened. "Are you saying -?"

Doctor Whale nodded. "Emma was bleeding quite severely - too severely for a typical menstrual cycle - so we had to do an ultrasound. Turns out she was in the very early stages of pregnancy."

Mary Margaret placed a hand over her heart and gasped, as Graham asked, "Wait; 'was'?"

"Yes, 'was'," Doctor Whale replied, his tone lowering a little. He gave the two a sympathetic look and went on to say, "This isn't really the right place to discuss this; let's head over to my office and we can talk about it there."

Emma's eyes slowly fluttered open to the sterile white hospital room. She blinked a few times, allowing her eyes to adjust and she glanced around at her surroundings. The room was small and empty, save for her bed, a chair, and the small bench beside it. A drip was attached to her hand and she stared at it weakly. The only sound was the soft beeping from the heart monitor beside her bed.

Sighing, she took the moment alone to her advantage and carefully raised her hospital gown by the collar to analyse the extent of her injuries. A large bandage covered both of her ribs, essentially blocking the view of her most-likely bruised torso and Emma wrinkled her nose at the sight of it. She allowed her shirt to settle down in place and her head fell gently back against the pillow.

What was going to happen to her now? A group foster home? She had been in one before this place, and it had not been pleasant. She had counted herself lucky to have ended up in a place like Storybrooke, where she had a boyfriend, and Mary Margaret -

There was a small knock on the door, interrupting her worried thoughts. Emma snapped her head up. Maybe this was the Sheriff with the news on what was going to happen to her.

"Come in," Emma called out, hating the way her voice sounded so weak.

The door opened cautiously and Mary Margaret stepped in. To her horror, Emma felt her face immediately light up at the sight of the woman, and she blushed.

Ugh, it must be the drugs they were giving her. She felt like such a sap.

She watched as Mary Margaret gave her a beaming smile in return and gently closed the door.

Emma noticed the Sheriff and the doctor that had woken her up earlier standing outside of the room. Both had serious expressions on their faces and Emma felt panic rise up in her. Mary Margaret seemed to notice because she sat on the chair beside the bed and took Emma's hand within her own. Mary Margaret's hand was a lot softer than Doctor Whale's, and Emma clutched it tightly.

"Hi, sweetheart," Mary Margaret whispered, a small smile on her face. She gently ran her thumb over Emma's knuckles. "You've been through a lot today, huh?"

Emma felt the panic simmer down at Mary Margaret's voice and she smiled softly, suddenly feeling shy. She stared at the blanket covering her legs to avoid Mary Margaret's loving gaze.

"Thanks for, uh, saving me earlier," Emma said suddenly, feeling a little awkward. It felt like a weird thing to thank someone for.

"Emma, you should have told me about your foster father," Mary Margaret told her, a sad look in her eyes. "I could have stopped this earlier."

Emma shrugged, feeling like a disappointment. "I didn't want him to hurt you."

Mary Margaret squeezed her hand gently, looking at a loss for words. Emma glanced back towards the blanket in her lap.

"Emma."

Emma raised her eyes back up to connect with Mary Margaret's.

Mary Margaret's face was completely serious, with an undertone of sympathy. "There's something I need to tell you."

"Okay," Emma said nervously.

Mary Margaret readjusted herself on the chair and held Emma's hand in both of her own.

"I need you to be completely honest with me," The woman began, and Emma nodded, feeling anxious at the sight of Mary Margaret's worried face.

"Did your foster father ever..." Mary Margaret paused before hesitatingly asking, "...Abuse you sexually?"

Emma's eyes widened. "What?" She breathed. "No... Why?"

Mary Margaret grimaced slightly. She ignored Emma's question with a soft, "I'm sorry, this is going to seem really personal, but..." She took a deep breath. "Did you ever have sex with your boyfriend?"

Emma felt her heart stop. The air was too thick and it felt harder to breathe than before.

"...Emma?" Mary Margaret asked off of Emma's silence.

Emma gulped, and then slowly nodded. "What's going on?" She whispered, a sinking feeling of dread in her stomach.

Mary Margaret squeezed her hand. Emma watched as the woman stared at their clasped hands for a few moments before raising her eyes to meet Emma's and, her voice laced with sadness, explained, "You were pregnant. You lost the baby due to shock and injury a few hours ago."

Emma felt the world come to a jerking stop.

"W-what?" Emma asked uneasily.

Mary Margaret nodded her head sadly and whispered, "I'm so sorry, honey."

"N-no. No. It can't be true. It can't!" Emma cried out in disbelief. "I wasn't pregnant! I would have known! D-don't you get symptoms? I-I didn't have any!"

Mary Margaret shook her head. "Doctor Whale said that sometimes a small percentage of women don't get any symptoms while in the early stages of pregnancy."

"No! No! I wasn't pregnant!" Emma shouted.

"Emma..."

"Please tell me it's not true," Emma stared into Mary Margaret's tear-filled eyes, her own starting to water. "Please..."

Mary Margaret didn't answer. She just stood up, sat on the edge of the hospital bed, and carefully pulled Emma into her arms. Emma's mouth felt dry, yet, tears were starting to flow from her eyes and she placed her head onto Mary Margaret's warm shoulder, and began to sob. She clutched onto the back of Mary Margaret's shirt.

She kept hearing somebody repeat something over, and over. They had begun to shout it, and Emma was about to ask Mary Margaret who was speaking, when, with a sudden awareness, she realised that it was herself.

"...Why? ...Why? Why?!"

Mary Margaret took one last glance at Emma's sleeping figure, and carefully shut the door behind her.

"How is she?"

Mary Margaret turned from the door to face Graham. She shook her head.

"She didn't take it well. I mean, nobody would ever take that kind of news well, but..." She shook her head again.

"I think that you handled it well," Doctor Whale praised. "I know that it's a doctor's job to tell the patient of the bad news, but I think she took it a lot better hearing it from you."

Mary Margaret gave him a small grateful smile. Suddenly, a muffled beeping sound rang out.

"Ah, that's my pager. I'd better get back to work," Doctor Whale said, pulling the device out from his coat pocket. "I'll talk to you later, Mary Margaret, and give you all the details of Emma's circumstances then."

Mary Margaret watched in confusion as the doctor walked away and turned to Graham.

"Why would he tell me all the details...?" She began to ask, but trailed off when Graham reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out an envelope.

"This was sitting on my desk this afternoon," He said, handing her the envelope. Mary Margaret took it and pulled the letter out, reading over the top half quickly. Her eyes widened.

"But - but this is saying that I -"

"Was accepted to become a foster parent?" Graham finished. "Yes. And I know that you never even got the chance to apply."

"So, what does this mean?" Mary Margaret asked, feeling like her head was spinning.

"It means that whoever sent in the application clearly wanted you to become a foster parent. Read the rest of it."

Mary Margaret glanced back down and continued to read.

Her heart stopped.

"I... I was accepted to... I'm now Emma's foster mother?"

"If you want to, we can send this letter back to the State and tell them that it was a misunderstanding-"

"No!" Mary Margaret all but shouted. She cleared her throat and staring back down at the letter, she whispered. "No... This is perfect."

"Somebody may be trying to manipulate something here," Graham warned.

Mary Margaret shook her head. "I don't care. I need to take care of Emma. I don't care how. This girl needs a stable home."

Graham smiled gently and nodded. "I thought you might say that."