Title: A Life of It

Author: Roguie etc…

Part: 2/?

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, 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: Holy crumbs! The support you guys are showing for little Emmie and her blue eyed savior is astounding. As you can well imagine, two years have passed in the lives of our little ones, and they're quite different from whom we met in the first part of this. Bet you can see a bit of our pirate come through in this cocky 9 year old as he captains the school playground. :P~ But maybe only a flash of our strong, stubborn Ems. Perhaps someone can put her on the path that leads to her strength and conviction?

~~~?~~~

He flew through the playground as if he hadn't a care in the world. To look at him, no one would know that beneath the long sleeved shirts he wore without fail, beneath the heavy jeans that covered him from hip to ankle, beneath the cocky grin and saucy blue eyes lay the evidence of the lies he told just to fit into this world of happy children.

He dominated the swings, pushing himself higher than any other boy of nine would dare to go. The way the playground was set up, he was the king of the world; kindergarten through grade threes were the only grades allowed on this particular part of the school yard. The fourth graders through sixth graders had their own playground, with basketball nets and soccer fields in place of swing sets and slides. The separation was an attempt at supporting the school's zero tolerance for bullying; keeping the older kids away from the little kids would cut down on bully related injuries. Or so they told themselves when they went home at night, sitting around their tables with their perfect families, their smiling children, their flawless lives that nothing bad had ever touched.

The rage that bubbled up inside him was well hidden beneath his cloak of untouchability. When he went home, well, this home anyway, he was lucky if a scrap of dinner would be tossed his way. His packed lunches consisted of the crusts cut off his "family's" birth children's lovingly packaged sandwiches. The same children who taunted him for his lack of loving parents, the same children who cornered him, using him as a punching bag as they laughed, leaving him curled in a corner aching and sometimes bleeding, never daring to fight back. Not again. Not after the last time. No, he took his beatings silently and still managed to smile at their parents, shrugging off their attacks. He knew how bad it could be out there, what could happen if the next home was as bad as his last home, and he wasn't risking being moved over a few bruises.

His ever sharp mind noticed when the rest of the school kids stopped staring at him in awe, turning almost as one to regard the front of the school with undisguised curiosity.

"New kid," he heard murmured to his left.

Poor kid was in for it, he thought to himself, starting a new school in April. No matter what grade he was in, he'd be lucky if anyone talked to him before school was let out for summer. He knew this for a fact, having started at too many new schools to count, at all sorts of different times in the school year. He'd been lucky to join this school just after Christmas break. The kids were more forgiving if you started after a vacation.

"Is it a boy or a girl?" another murmur came, this time from the right.

"Girl," came the snarled response from the left, a kid sitting up on top of the wooden play house that sat in the center of their playground.

A series of groans came from the boys, a number of them immediately losing interest and turning back to playing whatever games in which they'd been involved before the door to the principal's office had opened.

A few of the girls watched longer, their loud whisperings meeting his ears easily from where he swung behind them.

"Baby," one whispered.

"First grade, probably," another whispered.

"Ugh, we never have new girls our age," came a sharp whine.

"Think she's got a story?"

He laughed then, drawing the attention of the pack back upon him as he swung higher and higher before leaping off the swing at its highest arc, landing amongst them with a flourish of his arms and a low bow.

"New kids always have a story," he gave the girls a crooked grin and a cock of his eyebrow, letting them know he'd heard every word of their quiet conversation. "Not gonna get to hear it 'less you ask, though."

A lot of shrugging moved through the group with quiet mutterings of, "Not gonna ask a baby first grader what her deal is, why would I care?"

He shrugged back in response, leaning down to grab his jacket off the ground, slinging it over his shoulder as he began the long trek across the playground to where the principal was pointing out the play areas to the little blonde hiding behind his legs. The principal's lips turned down in to a scowl when he saw the boy approach, lifting an eyebrow at the boy in curiosity. He returned the principal's lifted eyebrow, which earned him a slow, methodical smile from the older man.

"Killian Jones!"

There was no need to yell, he was only a few feet away. Killian sighed as he walked up, a false politeness on his lips. "Yes, Mr. Johnson?"

"We have a new student today," the principal continued on, trying to tear the poor kid from his leg. Obviously the girl wasn't into meeting new people.

"Yeah, we kinda noticed. Sir." He added the sir as an after thought, trying desperately not to roll his eyes. "Kinda why I'm here."

"So what, you're the ambassador of the playground, now, Mr. Jones?"

"Meh, whatever works, right, Mr. J?" Killian grinned at him there, utterly unable to keep the cocky confidence out of his tone, earning himself a dark look from his principal.

"Right," Mr. Johnson glared down at him, finally managing to pry his newest ward off his leg and shove her towards Killian. "Killian Jones, Emma Swan. Mr. Jones, if you'll take over showing Miss Swan where the acceptable play areas are for a child of her grade, I must return to my work related duties." He shook his head as he looked down at the tiny blonde, frowning. "Miss Swan, I will be sending home a letter in your school bag this evening advising your parents of bell times. In the future, I'd ask that you ensure they see that you have arrived at class before the bells. It will prevent any further disruption of my days."

With that, he turned on his heel and reentered the school, not looking back to see if Killian had indeed turned to the new girl.

Fortunately, Killian recognized the uncertainty in the child's frame as she trembled beside him, her eyes on the hardtack under her feet.

"Hey, I'm Killian, obviously," he grinned down at her, blue eyes dancing, one eyebrow lifted as he waited to see if she'd look up from the mass of blonde hair that hid her from his view. "Damn, you got a lotta hair, girl," he grinned, reaching out to push a bit of it over her shoulder.

She jumped a mile at the touch of his hand, bringing a frown to his little lips as he peered down at her.

"Jeez, I'm not gonna hurt you, kid," he muttered, knowing all too well the reasons that could lay behind such a visceral reaction to such a little touch.

"'Kay," came her little voice from underneath all that hair, tiny, broken, and terrified; instant recognition slammed into Killian's body, his blue eyes opening wide, memories of the tiny girl he'd known for only hours flooding his small frame. "Emmie?" he murmured quietly, dropping to his knees in front of her, trying to look into her eyes through the mass of her hair.

She shrugged quietly, "Emma," she answered, still refusing to look at him.

"No," Killian answered firmly, "Emmie."

Her shoulders stiffened and her head snapped up, her green eyes flooding with instant defiance, a fire burning her gaze that he was so grateful to see. She wasn't completely broken. "Nobody calls me Emmie," she answered, glaring down at him as he kneeled before her.

Killian shrugged, grinning up at her. "Yeah, well I do." He lifted an eyebrow. "What'cha gonna do about it, Emmie?" he challenged, teasingly. "Smother me with your hair?"

Hurt flashed across her face, and Killian instantly regretted teasing her. He reached out, this time letting her watch his hands as they moved towards her face, pushing the long strands out of her way.

"Just kidding, Em," he smiled softly. "All boys in your house?"

She offered him a little shrug, never taking her eyes off his face. "How'd you know?"

Killian grinned wide, standing up and pulling her into his side, turning to push her towards the entrance to the school. "Coz all my foster mums who're used to boys always sucked at girls' hair."

He felt her stiffen again before relaxing, a deep breath rushing out of her body, all pretense gone as she followed him to the girl's bathroom, letting him push her inside, following her in and locking the door behind them. "Don't wanna get in trouble, do we?" he grinned as she watched him lock the door. "It is the GIRLs bathroom, y'know… Principal Johnson will kick my butt if he catches me in here."

"Then why…?" Her little voice trailed off as she realized she was asking why, something she'd been warned repeatedly not to do. Immediately she swallowed thickly, looking down at the ugly green tiles that covered the bathroom floor. "Sorry."

"What's to be sorry for?" He grinned at her, "Except, y'know, meeting your entire class with your hair looking like you did it yourself."

Emma's lip trembled instantly, and Killian groaned inwardly.

"Shit, you did it yourself?"

She shrugged, blushing deep at both the use of a forbidden word and at his obvious embarrassment.

"Yeah well, the dad I had before this one used to always tell me my mouth was a train wreck; he once told me if he cut out my tongue I'd prolly never get in trouble again." He lifted an eyebrow, curving up one corner of his mouth, coaxing an uncertain smile out of her as he stuck his tongue out at her. "He was prolly right, but hey, what'ch'a gonna do?"

He dug through his bag, pulling out the brush he'd taken from his foster sister's bedroom that morning, grinning wide as he remembered her shrieking as she tore the house apart looking for the tool. The beating he'd take from her tonight was so gonna be worth it. Without giving Emma a chance to react, Killian moved behind her, pressing a hand onto her shoulder and holding her steady. He brought the brush to her hair and slowly, methodically, began working through piece by piece, brushing through the mats and tangles that obviously no one had bothered caring for in quite some time.

Fifteen minutes passed as he struggled to work through her waist length hair, finally separating it enough that he was able to pull it back into a smooth pony tail, securing it with an elastic he had wrapped around his shoe. So what if the sole of his shoe was coming off and it would make an annoying flapping noise as he walked down the hallway now. All that mattered was putting Emma together before the other girls got a look at her.

When the warning bell for lunch ending rang, he was just about finished, pulling the pony tail tight and allowing the ends of it to flow out in the wavy curls that would normally dominate her blonde hair.

He grinned as he turned her to face the mirror, lifting an eyebrow. "Yeah, I know, I'm perfect." He wagged his eyebrows at her, teasing her as she giggled slightly, turning quickly to face the door when he heard footsteps in the hallway. "Now we just gotta get outta here and get you to your class before…" The second bell rang, and Killian sighed. "Okay, new plan… run!"

Emma laughed as he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her out the door, darting down the hallway to the half of the school that housed the lower grades. "Who you got as a teacher, Emmie?"

Emma shrugged and reached into her coat pocket, holding out a crumpled schedule for him to read. "Mrs. Finkle? Cool! I heard she was pretty good." He watched as Emma visibly relaxed while he walked her to the right classroom. "Want me to meet you here after school? I can walk you home… y'know, if your family isn't gonna pick you up or nothing."

Emma looked at the door to her class and looked back at him, sadly. "'Kay… I got kinda lost coming here today, s'why I was late."

"Your mum didn't walk you to school? Or drive you? Or anything?"

Emma shrugged again. "I should'a walked faster… I… I couldn't keep up with the big kids 'n I got lost."

Killian frowned, shaking his head slowly. "I'll walk you home every day, Emmie, and I won't leave you behind," he said, firmly before opening the door and ushering her inside the room. "Mrs. Finkle? This is Emma Swan, she's new here."

With an encouraging smile, Killian pushed the little girl who once could have been his baby sister towards her new teacher, leaning down to whisper, "I'll see you later," before turning and taking off down the hall, slamming into his own classroom ten minutes late for class.

"Mr. Jones," his teacher glared down at him, causing him to step back slightly. "Obviously you don't consider my class worth eleven minutes of your time, perhaps you'll be more inclined to join us on time after spending an hour with me, tonight."

Panic flittered across Killian's face, thoughts of Emma being left alone after he'd promised her he'd pick her up from class causing his heart to stutter in his chest. "I'm really sorry, Mr. Batton," he said with as much honesty as he could force into his voice without sounding sarcastic. "Mr. Johnson wanted me to show the new girl the school 'n I just dropped her off at her class 'n I ran the whole way back here, please, sir, I really didn't mean to this time."

Perhaps if he'd been less of a difficulty in the weeks prior, Mr. Batton would have looked the other way, instead, Killian felt the touch of hard fingers to the back of his neck as he was led to a desk at the very back of the room and sat down far away from the rest of the students.

"Your reasons aside, Mr. Jones, you will be joining me here for an hour after class. Now, you've interrupted my day enough for the moment, I'll be grateful to get back to my lesson."

Killian shrunk into his seat, groaning to himself. He was about to let Emma down a second time, and for the first time in his ugly life, he hated himself.

~~~TBC~~~

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