A/n I am terrible! I'm so sorry it's been so long. I suffer from depression and sometimes it's too hard to even think about writing. I just went through a rough patch. And then I got real obsessed with Riverdale. Thanks for sticking around. I promise I'll finish this

Angry, I drink. And drink. And drink some more.

How dare he get mad at me. What did I do?

Eventually Mary Margaret starts trying to talk to me. I don't usually drink this much so she's probably worried. I keep avoiding her though, not wanting to talk through things I'm not sure of myself.

How can I explain my behavior without telling her I might actually like Killian Jones? I can't. And I do like Killian, I can't deny it now. Not with this snarling jealousy monster rearing its ugly head.

I drown it with more alcohol.

When the jealousy is sufficiently buried, I stumble out of the party, taking my time with the porch steps.

"Whoa whoa whoa, wait a minute, Em." A hand on my elbow steadies my descent. I squint into the light streaming from the party and make out David. "I'll walk you."

I want to tell him I'm fine and I can walk to the bus stop myself but I'm so tired. We slowly make our way down the street and I'm glad for his help as I'm finding it increasingly difficult to walk in these dumb heels.

"Emma?"

He's waiting for me to open up, tell him what's wrong. I can't.

"I'm fine, Dave."

"Mmhmm, sure you are. That's why you drank a gallon of vodka and avoided your friends all night." He sits me down on the bench at the bus stop before settling next to me. "You don't have to tell me the details, sis, but just tell me if you're okay. Are you?"

Am I? "No, not really but there's nothing I can do about it."

We fall into silence again. That's one thing David has always had a knack for, he knows when I don't want to talk anymore. Instead he just holds my hand.

Headlights illuminate the street as the bus pulls up. "I'm sorry, Emma, for whatever happened. But I don't believe there's nothing you can. I know you and there's nothing you can't do. " I'm touched. He helps me up and toward that bus, "do you want me to ride back with you?"

I snort, "no thanks, I'm not 5 years old, I can do it myself." And then I almost fall flat on my face but manage to hook an arm around the handrail, barely saving myself. I plop into the first seat and lean my head against the cool window.

I fumble for my phone, tucked into the bodice of my dress, checking the time. 1:56a.m.

No wonder I'm so tired.

We lurch through two stops and I'm definitely regretting the amount of alcohol in my system now. My head hurts and I want nothing more than to go to sleep. Well maybe I'd like to give Killian Jones a piece of my mind more but it seems an impossible feat to lift my head unnecessarily.

I think about what David said. There's nothing I can't do. Ha! Alright.

There's plenty I can't do. I can't stop thinking about Killian Jones. I can barely admit, even to myself, that I might have feelings for him. I can't make myself do anything about it because I can't forget about my crummy past.

I close my eyes, counting the number of stops until we get to mine. It takes some doing but I manage to get down the stairs in my heels with much drunken concentration.

It's a ten minute walk from the bus stop to my dorm but the cold air has woken me up some. After stumbling a few times, I decide to take my shoes off. I lean against a tree just off the path and hear footsteps behind me halt. Instant unease.

Slowly, shoes in hand, I start walking again. The footsteps start again too, never getting too close but following my pace. My heart pounds and I regret leaving my pepper spray in my backpack. I'm not helpless without it but the alcohol will definitely make me sloppy. If I can just reach my dorm.

Quicker now, I move towards my building, the footsteps always keeping pace behind me. My stomach turns with fear and adrenalin. Just a few dozen feet from the lobby doors. The footsteps are definitely getting closer now. Curse this dress! I can't run.

As I move into the shadow of my building, I feel a hand grab my upper arm. I try to scream, but it chokes off in my throat. I turn, dropping my shoes so I can ball up my fist and try to land a punch. But he's got my dominant arm pinned to my side and I'm no good with my left.

It's hard to make out much detail since he's in the shadows but I can tell he's big, much bigger than me, and dressed all in black.

"Leave me alone," I growl, pulling away from him.

"Don't be like that, baby." He does exactly what I was hoping for, releasing my arm and putting his own around my body. I hear someone else yell but I'm too focused to hear what they're saying. I snap my arms up quickly and try to push his away. The idea is to stomp on the attacker's foot and jump forward, effectively incapacitating while you escape but my attempt isn't as clean as that. I stomp easily enough but I stumble, tripping over my skirts on my getaway. I feel him try to grab for me again but I get a good punch in this time, right under his jaw.

He gasps, "bitch."

I can hear footsteps coming up behind me. My attacker bolts, afraid of being caught I guess, so I turn quickly to face this new possible threat. I pull my arm back, ready to swing when I finally recognize the voice shooting at me.

"Emma, Emma, relax love, it's just me."

Killian.

"Are you alright?" His voice is urgent, desperate. I nod and visibly relaxes.

I sigh, shoulders slumping as the adrenalin leaves me all at once. I wobble.

"I've got you, love," he slides his arm around my waist, pulling me close to him. He smells like whiskey and, inexplicably, the sea. It's pleasant.

I try to protest, say that I can walk by myself, but my legs are like jelly.

"Just let me help you to your room, Swan, since you denied me my daring rescue."

"No one saves me but me," I murmur, but I lean into his body, letting him help me. I swipe my key fob at the door and nod to the left. "Elevator." God I'm exhausted.

Wait, Killian is here. He shouldn't be here.

"What are you doing here?" I whisper, hoping that will hide the bitterness I know is in my tone, "what happened to Ulla?"

We step into the elevator and he hits the button for my floor before he answers. "She's at her apartment," he says carefully, not really giving me the answer I asked for.

"Okay but why are you here?" I try to speak clearly but weariness and alcohol slow my words, slurring them.

He pulls me out into the hallway and walks slowly, supporting a good deal of my weight. "I wanted to talk to you." And leaves it at that.

Should I be happy about that? Did he leave a willing one night stand to come talk to me? Why would he do that? "Ulla? You didn't..."

"No," he sighs, pulling the keys from my hand. "I - I couldn't do it," he finishes quietly. I'm not sure if I'm meant to hear it. I feel the wall against my back. "Stay there a moment, love." He opens my door, flipping on the lights, before helping me inside.

I fall down on my bed, working the tiara out of my hair. "Why didn't you sleep with her?" Oh my god, did I just ask that out loud? I should never drink again.

He raises an eyebrow at me and says, softly, "don't you know, Swan?"

I stare at him, waiting for more, but he just watches me. I shrug and stand up, trying to reach the zipper at my back.

After watching me struggle, he moves to help. "Just how much did you drink?" He puts one hand at the top of my dress, I can feel his warmth on the bare skin of my shoulder, and tugs the zipper down slowly.

"A bit too much," I admit, holding the bodice to my chest, feeling flushed.

He moves away from me, turning around to give me some privacy. "Why?" He wonders.

I let the dress go, watching it pool around my feet. I tug an oversized t-shirt over my head and fall back into my bed. Maybe it's because he's not looking at me or maybe it's the alcohol but I tell him the truth. "I was mad at you."

"What?" He scoffs, turning back to me. "What did I do?"

"Ulla," I mutter with distaste. I watch his eyes widen with shock then he turns thoughtful. He regards me curiously a moment before he pulls a bottle of water out of my fridge and hands it to me. I wish I could read his thoughts.

"Drink," he commands. I drink, even though I'm almost too tired to lift the bottle, I drink. When most of it is gone, he takes it from me and puts it on my nightstand. He helps me lay down, pulling the covers over me. "Sleep now" He smooths my hair back from my face.

I grab his hand when he starts to pull away from me. "Stay?" I whisper, my heavy lids shutting.

"As you wish, love." I feel his hand against my hair again, soothing me as I fall asleep.