Title: A Life of It

Author: Roguie etc…

Part: 4/?

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: Um. I apologize for this chapter. I don't know how committed you guys are to these little people, but, yeah, my muse is a horrible bitch and she made me cry. While I was writing this. At work. I looked like an idiot. Anyway, here's the last part for today – I'll probably have more up on Monday for you, if my muse lets me wait that long. Don't kill me. Please.

~~~?~~~

Killian Jones prided himself in the fact that not once in three months did he break his word to his little Emma. Every morning he left his house early to wait across the street from her own, ducking behind a tree if her foster mother bothered to come out of the house with her, hanging back until the older children that lived with Emma were out of sight. They always left her behind, expecting her six year old legs to be able to keep up with ten and twelve year old strides, but once Killian pushed his way into her morning routine, it didn't matter as much, anymore.

Her smile was always brilliant when she'd catch sight of him, often times her tiny fingers kept busy picking leaves and twigs out of his hair that he'd acquired from hiding in the bushes. He took comfort in the fact she always seemed to relax as soon as he took her hand, both doing their best to ignore the fresh bruises that would invariably appear on one or the other of them.

Every morning he walked her past the kids on the playground, shooting scathing looks their way if any of them gathered up enough courage to comment on his friendship with the broken little girl. They always took the same path to the girl's washroom, and he always pulled a brush through her hair, sorting the strands with care, some days putting it up in a pony tail for her, some days braiding it into pig tails for her. She always looked to him with gratitude, grinning her big toothy grin excitedly when he was finished, filled with more confidence from a simple task than he'd seen in her at any other time.

They made their own routines, had their own special time. The day she turned seven, he walked her home on a different route, taking her through a nearby park. He made her stand in the middle of the park with her eyes closed, completely trusting as she giggled and blushed while he ran around gathering flowers from different flower beds. When she opened her eyes it was to a huge bouquet of mismatched buds, all different colors, all different lengths, and happy tears fell down her cheeks as she flung herself into his arms, all but crushing the ugly mess of flowers between them.

Years later he'd kick himself for saying it, but as he patted her back, rolling his eyes and nudging her out of his arms to try and rescue her flowers from her crushing hug, he grinned down at her, scratching behind his ear with embarrassment. "C'mon, Emmie, it's no big deal. It's what any guy'd do for his little sister."

Her eyes grew huge in her little face, a resounding awe filling her gaze as she stared up at him. "Really? I'm your little sister?"

He shrugged and grinned, kicking a bit of dirt before reaching out for her hand and pulling her back onto the path that would lead them home. "Well, yeah, 'course you are."

Between them they had zero family beyond each other; a simple word like sister meant more to Emma than any flowers could have ever meant, but still, she snuck them into her house that night, hiding them up in her room, watching every day as they grew older and dryer until she was forced to take one of the blooms and put it between the pages of the book Killian had given to her when she was four. The rest were thrown out the second her foster mother found them, a heavy scolding given to her for bringing dead things into the house, but even the bruises that appeared the next day on her tiny wrists could do nothing to dim the happiness she felt every time she cracked open that book and looked down at the little once purple flower that lay within.

After that day, Killian found himself rolling his eyes more and more often as he caught her telling Mrs. Finkle that she was waiting for her brother to walk her home, telling the janitor that caught them in the washroom one morning that her brother was helping her braid her hair, or telling the kids that picked on her that when her brother found out they'd be sorry. He laughed at her over use of the word brother, but knew if he'd had the chance to be with Liam, he'd have been the same. Instead, he let her have her moment, slinging an arm over her shoulders every night on the way home, "C'mon, sis," always on his lips, making her smile that much bigger.

He promised he'd be there for her through anything. He promised that he'd never leave her again. He promised he'd always, always be her big brother, and until the morning of his tenth birthday, he kept every promise he made to her.

The day started out normal enough. He took a punch in the shoulder from one of the teenagers that drove him into the staircase railing, making him wince. He ignored a snotty, "So what if it's your birthday? It's not like anyone cares," from one of the girls as she pushed past him, making him miss the last step on the staircase and fall to his hands and knees onto the ceramic floor. His foster mother seemed genuinely nice, actually offering him an entire sandwich in his lunch with a juice box. Killian beamed up at her happily, offering her a sincere thank you, knowing with this much food he would have enough to share with Emma who never, ever had a lunch on school days. He was out the door and on the way to Emma's with a big grin on his face ten minutes earlier than normal, dodging one last hit from his "brother" on his way down the driveway. They were on their last two weeks of school and soon they would have the entire summer to spend as they wanted.

As Killian walked the ten minutes to Emma's house, he couldn't stop the bounce in his step. Summer meant freedom. None of the parents ever cared what he did during the day as long as he was out of the house and not being brought home by the police. He figured he and Emma would spend their days at the park between their houses and the school; maybe they would even get to read his mother's book together. His grin grew wider and wider as he broke into a jog, turning onto Emma's street far earlier than normal, knowing he'd have to wait for her to come out but not really caring.

Four houses down from Emma's is when he heard the screams. Tiny little girl screams filled with a terror that shot right through his body and froze him in place.

"Emmie?"

He stood frozen for what felt like forever, his arms and legs refusing to move, his face draining of all blood, his expression horrified as he watched her door swing open and two men in suits carrying a screaming, writhing child between them. Her hair was a mess; nobody had bothered brushing it after she'd woken up that morning. She was still wearing her little nightgown, a tear in the white skirt from where it split as she began kicking out at the men who held her tightly in their grip. He tore his eyes off of her, finally noticing the black van parked in front of her house, the unmistakable logo of the children's welfare society on both sides and the back.

She was being moved.

On one hand, Killian's heart burst with relief. Emma was getting out of that house; with any kind of luck she would land some place nicer. On the other hand, his entire body felt like it was being torn in two. In minutes they would have her in that van and she would disappear into the system; there was an astoundingly terrifying chance he would never, ever see her again.

Her terrified eyes caught sight of him as he stood frozen in shock, the panicked look on his face doing nothing to calm her as she redoubled her efforts to escape.

"KILLIAN!"

Her scream pierced his brain, tears filled his eyes as he began running towards her just as she twisted so hard the men weren't able to hold on, dropping her to her hands and knees. She was up and moving before they were able to react, flinging herself into Killian's arms, holding onto him in a death grip as the men turned to face him.

"Please don't let them take me, Killian, please don't let them take me, please please please!" she cried into his chest, holding him so tightly he knew her little fingers would leave bruises in the morning.

He stared down at her helplessly, holding her as she sobbed against him, his own tears flowing freely knowing there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop this from happening.

"Shh, Emmie," he whispered, too afraid to speak louder, knowing how badly his voice would break and betray how completely he shared her terror. "Shh, it's a good thing, sis, now you'll go some place better, right?"

She shook her head into him, tears soaking through his shirt. "No! No! I don't wanna go, Killian, I don't wanna go! I can't leave you!"

He swallowed hard, looking up to see the men approaching slower now, watching as the wrecked little boy stroked his hand down her hair and nodded. "I know, Emmie, I know you don't wanna go. You're not leaving me, I promise. You just gotta go some place better. Hey, one of my foster dads used to say I was like a bad penny, always turning up under foot, so you'll see me again."

He tried to smile through his tears; he'd promised never to lie to her, but he couldn't help it, not when soon they were going to make it worse and pull her out of his arms.

"How about this, sis? How about we do your hair real pretty today? Real pretty for your new mum, coz she's gonna love you so much this time."

Her wobbly little voice as she finally looked up at him, her face a mess, eyes swollen, cheeks and nose red, and still the prettiest little thing he'd ever seen. "Really?"

He shrugged, grinning down at her. "'Course really."

Killian's eyes pleaded with the men waiting for her, begging for a few more minutes, moving her to sit down on the curb as he kneeled behind her, getting out her brush and slowly beginning to work through her matted hair. Strand by strand, he brushed, brushed until his fingers ached with it, until her hair was absolutely perfect.

"Nobody's ever loved me," she murmured sadly, her breathing heavy with panic and grief, her voice so sad and broken.

"Lie," he grinned at her, kissing the top of her head before pulling her hair back into two sections, carefully braiding each piece perfectly. "I love you."

By the time he finished tying off her braids, her sobs had turned into silent tears, but she was able to stand and walk back towards the men calmly. She stuttered half way there, looking back up at him, her throat swelling with the fresh tears that were building second by second.

"I love you, too, Killian!" she finally sobbed out, pressing her face back to his chest, forcing him to blink back his own fresh tears as he held her once more. "I didn't get to give you flowers!" she finally whimpered.

"Huh?" he tried to laugh; instead it came out more like a confused grunt, tied all up in the choking sobs that wanted to escape his throat.

"It's your birthday," she cried, "And I didn't get to give you flowers like you gave me!"

He laughed then, swallowing and hugging her close. "S'okay, Emmie, boys don't get flowers anyway. 'Sides, you gave me the best present, like ever, already."

"I did?"

"Mmhmm," he grinned, "I get to know that my baby sister's gonna go to a new home tonight where you're not gonna be hurt coz of something stupid like hanging out with me, 'n that's better than any old flowers either of us could pick."

"I'd rather hang out with you," she said softly, wiping her face with the back of her hand as they turned and started walking towards the van.

He helped her climb into the van, glaring at the men as they tried to shuffle him out of the way, refusing to move as he helped her with her seat belt. "Do you have Teddy? And all your clothes? And our… our book?" He fought down the fresh tears, smiling at her instead as she nodded.

"Teddy has our book."

"'Kay, then you're all ready." He smiled at her, smoothing a hand over the top of her head, tugging on a braid. "An awfully big adventure, right?"

"Please don't go!" she cried, reaching out to grab onto him, but he'd already stepped away.

"It's not me leaving this time, Emmie," he whispered, shaking his head, smiling through tears he could no longer hide.

"I don't want to!"

"And that's why I'm not mad at you, sis. I'll find you again, y'know. You can't hide from me forever." He grinned. She cried.

"Love you!" she whimpered as the men stepped between them and closed the door to the van, cutting off her view of the only family she'd ever truly known.

"Love you, too, Ems," he murmured back, knowing she couldn't hear him.

He watched that black van move down the street, turning at the end, taking Emma out of his life only months after he'd let her in. He didn't go to school that day; instead, he sat in front of Emma's old house, picking at the rocks in the side walk, not even bothering to hide when the other kids came home.

He stayed there for hours longer, watching the sky turn dark, watching the stars come out, watching the world carry on as if two little broken hearts didn't matter at all.

They found him somewhere around midnight, still just sitting, watching her house as if being there would make her come back, even though he knew that would never happen, and it was for the best. He didn't speak to a single person for three days afterwards. A week later the black van pulled up in front of his house too. He went without a fight.

~~~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?