A/N: Here we are, back with another chapter! Thank you to everyone who reviewed, favorited, and followed the first chapter. I'm really thrilled that this story got such a warm reception.

This chapter delves a little more into Emma's background, and explored a bit of her reactions to the people in her life.

As before, none of this would have been possible without my wonderful beta emlovesyouu.

I own nothing of the show, characters, setting, plots, or dialog, even when I borrow from them :) Any resemblances to any real people, places, or events is entirely coincidental.

Enjoy!

Chapter 2

But if my silence made you leave
Then that would be my worst mistake

29 September 2014

Hate.

It was such a strange word to fixate on, but that was the concept running through Emma's mind the entire night as the clock slowly ticked through the hours.

Shortly after Henry went to bed, Emma found herself in a very familiar place, both literally and figuratively. Snow and David's loft had one feature that she found herself using more than any other: the lovely bay window looking out onto the street had rapidly become her favorite place to sit and contemplate the absurdity that had become her daily life.

As soon as the door to the bedroom she shared with Henry closed, she turned the lights out and gravitated to her thinking place.

She tried to figure out the look she saw on Regina's face, but kept coming back to the same answer.

Hate.

Anger was there, for sure, but anger didn't encompass the depth of the passion in Regina's eyes. Emma had been angry before, of course. She had a very short temper behind the wheel, but someone cutting her off in traffic generally did not make her want to eradicate them from existence. Disappointment and disgust were there, too, but overshadowed by the betrayal and rage that colored Regina's normally warm espresso eyes made it a more dangerous mixture.

Emma was no stranger to any of these expressions, having seen one or another far too often for her own liking. Most people were too hypocritical to articulate their disdain, only showing their true feelings through how they treated her. The only commonality between emotions and expressions was the way her lack of self-esteem was reinforced every time.

The self-loathing weighing her heart down was as familiar and painful as the worn out pair of shoes she'd had to wear all through her teenage years, since none of her foster families would even consider thinking about spending money on her shoes. She concentrated on the self-hatred, relishing the pain. For many years it was what kept her safe; the constant reminder that she wasn't good enough for friends, for love, or especially for a family. She wore it like her red jacket, an armor of pain that kept her heart from shattering into a thousand pieces.

Looking over at the high ledge above the kitchen cabinets that she'd converted into a feeble attempt at a liquor cabinet, Emma contemplated pouring herself a drink. Being Sheriff, even the Savior, in a small town didn't pay all that well. Combine a meager salary with years of enforced frugality where the rumblings of a hungry stomach taught her early on never to waste money on frivolities instead of her next full meal, and she was almost physically incapable of spending money on nonessentials. Balanced precariously on the ledge were various bargain labels of rum, whiskey, vodka, and tequila. No premium brands here; she only tasted those at Regina's – at the Mansion, she corrected herself, trying not to think of her colossal mistake.

A drink sounded like exactly what she needed. She reached up with her left hand to grab the cheap bourbon and a glass out of the cabinet with her right. Pouring a drink, Emma watched the dark amber liquid splashing around her glass. She capped the bottle and put it back on the shelf. Watching the whiskey swirl as her hand gently warmed the grains, the aroma gradually wafted to her nose.

Unbidden, she flashed back to being fifteen years old in a shabby living room in North Carolina. Her alcoholic foster father from the time was lunging toward her, leering at her so grotesquely that she had to fight back the urge to vomit. A quick knee to the groin and elbow to his nose as he bent over finished off his advances. As she grabbed what few possessions she wanted to take with her and made for the front door, his voice calling out after her stayed with her, haunting her every time she wanted to hope for something good for herself.

"You're a worthless slut! You'll never be anything more than a spread pair of legs!"

Emma caught herself out of the memory, grabbing onto the counter for stability. She shook her head clear of her demons, but when her gaze fell on the glass in her hand, her stomach roiled so violently she poured the drink down the drain. "Not a good idea tonight, Emma," she said to herself.

Not only was she the only awake adult, and thus responsible for Henry's wellbeing, having a drink would just dull her thinking. If there was ever a time she needed a clear head to think about everything that had happened in the previous twenty-four hours, it was then. The fact that alcohol would only dull the pain that she was fully determined to embrace was a thought she brushed aside the moment she had it.

Moving back to the bay window after turning all the lights in the apartment off, Emma thought back again to the day's events.

The disgust she saw on her former mentor and friend was the exact same look she'd been given from a group of the most popular girls at one of the schools she'd attended when she tried to sit down at their table with a grin that felt far too cheery. They had taken one look at her scuffed shoes, threadbare jeans, and ratty shirt and collectively turned their noses up at her. The self-appointed leader, one Brittany Johnson, asked in her haughtiest voice how some foster kid from the group home – making it sound as if group home was somewhere below mental institution – could dare to sit at their table. Off Emma's stammered reply, Brittany's scornful laugh and the sycophantic cacophony of the other girls joining in – chased her away from the table. It was one of the only times in Emma's life she'd wasted food, as she'd dumped it in the trash on her way to find a refuge from the mocking, far too upset to even finish her lunch.

Pity came in many forms. Every time she got sent back from another foster family to the group home, she felt their pity. The families all mouthed the right empty words, but when it came down to it, none of them wanted a child as old as her with rapidly growing abandonment issues. The teachers at her many schools all pitied her as she struggled to keep up with classmates that all had parents who could afford the supplies they needed, who weren't moved around too often to be bothered to learn the syllabus or do the homework.

Once she'd grown into her looks, Emma quickly grew accustomed to the lustful leers of the male population. The only time she was glad to have older foster sisters was when she overheard them talk about how most guys were complete bastards who just moved on when they'd gotten what they wanted. One girl even ended up with a child of her own in the group home. Emma paid attention and learned that dire lesson well. Her pants stayed on no matter how ardent the advance.

The betrayal on Regina's face hurt more than anything else about the accidental mess, because it was the exact same expression Lily had worn when she left her at the bus stop. The act of rescuing someone slated for execution. Emma wronged a woman she considered a friend, no matter that it was accidental, out of self-defense or a desire to save another's life or not; she still caused harm to someone she cared about. For the Savior, someone destined to bring back happy endings, knowing that she'd ripped that away from someone important to her was the worst possible feeling.

And yet…

The last thing she thought she saw on Regina's face might have been the actual worst. Disinterest. All her life Emma had to deal with the knowledge that she was never important to anyone. Found by the side of the road after being abandoned by her parents – she knew why now, but the scars of childhood ran deep – and then returned like a defective coffee pot by her first foster family when they had a child of their own, Emma had been hurt by anyone she tried to connect with before invariably being moved to another home. She'd never mattered enough to anyone. To see that same disinterest on Regina's face cut her to her very core.

Only Neal had been different. From their very first meeting when she stole the same car he'd stolen he'd looked at her not with disgust, pity, or disinterest, but respect, care, and after enough time, something that she only called love in the deepest corners of her mind. And then he abandoned her. The man who professed his love and adoration left her to take the rap for his crimes. Months in prison and a baby she had no realistic options but to give up for adoption taught her the same lesson she'd allowed herself to forget: never trust anyone again. Don't let her walls down enough to get let down by others.

And here she was, knowing that the best friend she'd had in adulthood truly hated her.

"Mom!"

Emma jumped at Henry almost shouting her name. "What?"

He shook his head, stifling a yawn. "I've been calling you for almost five minutes now. Are you okay?"

Giving him a shake of her own head, Emma offered a rueful smile, but an all-night pity party robbed it of most of its warmth. The growing light coming in through the window bore mute witness to how long she'd been sitting lost in her painful memories. "Sorry, kid. Long night. Guess it's breakfast time, huh?"

She saw the moment the sleep cleared from his gaze and he really saw her. He flinched too fast to hide the reaction. Concern overtook his expression, and he softened from his previous impatience. "Yeah. Um, Ma? Are you sure you're okay? You look like you've seen a ghost or something. "

Got to make sure I get some makeup to hide the evidence from last night before going to the station today, Emma made a mental note. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just had a hard time sleeping after everything that went down with your mom last night."

Despite a half-second of scrutiny, Henry seemed to accept her explanation, sending relief coursing through her system. "So what do you want to do after school today? Hike in the woods? Movie night? Video games?" She had to stifle her eye-roll at how overly stupidly over-eager she sounded to be spending time with her own son. He lived with her full-time, after all.

"Actually, I was hoping to spend some time studying with Paige after school, if that's okay?" he asked.

She smiled at him, hoping it hid her disappointment. "Your first crush. Sure, that's okay. We'll still get dinner, yeah?"

Her heart fell just a little bit as he looked down at his feet. "Well, if studying goes well, I was going to ask her if she wanted to swing by Granny's before I come home. Could I borrow twenty dollars?"

"You're abandoning me for a study date and asking me to pay for it? That's cold," she teased in mock outrage. "Sure, I'll give it to you before school. Now let's get something to eat," Emma got up from her perch by the living room window and made her way into the kitchen, hissing at the way her joints cracked in protest of her long night.

After making Henry some scrambled eggs and toast – she was honestly trying to feed him healthy food according to Regina's standards – Emma creaked her way into the bathroom to do what she could to stave off total exhaustion. She splashed cold water on her face before allowing her gaze to move to the mirror. When she saw her reflection, she jumped back. Her work as a bounty hunter often required all-nighters with only coffee for company, but the face that greeted her was worse than she could ever remember seeing. Dark circles, unusually pale skin, and haunted eyes looked back at her. It was no wonder Henry flinched. It was a testament to his character that he asked how she was – she'd have run screaming from the room if confronted with someone who looked like she did.

With a grimace and a sigh, she set out the makeup she would need to hide the evidence of her night and got in the shower.

After dropping Henry off at school, Emma made her way to the station dreading the day ahead of her. There was no chance that the day after her mistake at Granny's followed by an entire night wallowing in her misery would be anything but awful.

And she was right.

It just happened to be a day that David beat her into the station and Ruby showed up to help out with the parade of villains. Add that to the normal amount of chaos in Storybrooke and all the parking spots in front of the building having been taken. With no spaces for her Bug out back, she had to park up the street and walk. When she got in, Emma saw a classic case of insult added to injury manifested in the empty donut box sitting on her desk.

"Aw, come on! Really?" she groaned, lifting the lid in a futile effort to find any hiding bear claws.

"Sorry, Em," said Ruby with a semi-apologetic smirk. "I wasn't sure when you'd be in, and I was hungry, so…"

She could either snap at Ruby, who meant no real harm, or laugh it off. She chose the latter, giving the werewolf a small wave. "No worries, Rubes. I had breakfast at home with Henry anyway. Probably didn't need the sugar."

She'd come into the station hoping to use the current chase for the snow monster and whomever created it as a distraction from her disaster of a night, but such was not to be the case. No new sightings had been reported, and search parties had turned up empty. After an hour of catching up on paperwork, she was reduced to trashcan basketball. Soon even that failed to keep her interest. Her boots hit the desk with a thud, causing David to look up from his own stack of paperwork with a small frown. "Sorry," Emma apologized sheepishly.

As she looked out the window to find something else to do, a swirl of dark hair grabbed her attention. She strained to see who it was, but the hair was gone before she could identify its owner. Sitting back in her chair with a frustrated huff, Emma tried to think of what she'd say to Regina after the night before.

'I'm sorry' seemed far too inadequate, but nothing else even formed in her mind. Emma wracked her brains – literally scratching her head at one point – but nothing came of it. Eventually, she settled for staring out the window, picturing Regina and trying to form the right words to express her regret.

Eventually, a loud thump from behind her shook her out of her fog. When she looked back, she saw Ruby clicking away on one of the station's computers and her father's head on the desk. "David?" Emma called. "You okay?"

His head shot up. Looking around, David blinked owlishly for a moment before meeting her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, sorry. It was a bit of a long night with Neal last night," he explained, yawning and rubbing his eyes, "Little bugger doesn't like sleep yet. It's just taking longer to get used to the sleepless nights than I thought it would. I'm surprised you didn't hear him screaming."

Since David's eyes were closed, he missed Emma's quick grimace, but Ruby didn't. She gave her friend a searching glance, but Emma tried to shake her off. Ruby gave her a sympathetic smile before mouthing, "Talk to him!"

"I guess I was just sleeping extra deep or something," Emma offered, ignoring the reason for her pangs.

Ruby rolled her eyes at her evasion. "Hey, David, Emma," she started as she gathered her purse, "I think I need some more coffee. How about I run to Granny's for some of the real stuff? You guys interested?"

As Emma shook her head, David blew out a huge breath. "I'd call you my own personal savior for some of Granny's coffee," he answered.

Emma's eyes grew wide. Ever since the first curse broke, she'd been universally referred to as the town's Savior. It had become one of the chief ways the townspeople showed their appreciation, other than being Henry's birth mother. Hearing someone, her own father no less, call another person the title she'd come to think of as hers stung.

Naturally, Ruby didn't miss that either. "I'll, um, just let you guys get back to it. Back in a bit!"

The hesitance in her tone snapped David out of his sleepy stupor. After the door closed, he regarded his daughter. "Emma? Is something wrong?"

She forced a half-smile onto her face, slipping back into her old habit of hiding what bothered her. "Just a long night of my own, trying to figure out how to make it up to Regina."

"You did the right thing, saving Marian from her death sentence. Even if it changed things here, you couldn't have let her die," he offered.

"I wish I felt the same way," she murmured.

David brightened suddenly. "Tell you what: this search isn't going anywhere right now. How about when Ruby gets back and we've had some coffee, we go out to the shooting range and get some practice in?"

This time her smile was full and unforced. "That's actually always been one of my favorite things to do to blow off steam," she confessed.

David's answering grin bolstered her spirits far more than it should have. I can do this. I can have a family, people that love me, people who won't leave, people who want me to stay. I can have this all.

I don't have to be afraid of losing everything.

"Wow. I have to say I never expected that saying to be literal," David chuckled.

Emma gaped, her semi-automatic still clutched in both hands and pointing downrange. "Did I just…?" she couldn't even finish her question.

Fortunately or unfortunately as the case may have been, David was only too happy to jump in. "…miss the broad side of a barn? Well, since the department's shooting range targets are attached to the side of an abandoned barn in the Storybrooke woods, and I don't see any bullet holes in the rotting wood, yeah, pretty much. What's been going on with you today, Emma? You're rattled."

After clearing the barrel, Emma flipped the safety on and re-holstered her weapon before flopping down on a fallen tree behind her. "I don't even know, David. This whole thing with Regina has me going in circles."

He sat down beside her, putting his arm around her, guiding her head onto his own shoulder. "It's never easy to do the right thing, is it?"

"Was it the right thing, though? I mean, that woman died in the past, in the first timeline, right? So wouldn't the right thing have been to let the same thing happen? Then Regina wouldn't hate me, she'd still be with Robin, her soul-…," for reasons better left unexplored at that particular moment, Emma's stomach lurched so hard she couldn't finish the word, "boyfriend, and then everything would be back the way it was. We might actually have a chance to breathe and exist in this crazy town."

"I know. Doing the right thing is confusing sometimes, but you really did the right thing. Even if Regina's mad now, she probably won't stay that way," he tried.

Emma's face fell at the less than reassuring words. "I don't know. You've known her longer than I have, back in the Enchanted Forest, even. Is Regina the kind of woman that forgives and forgets that easily when the women of our family accidentally cause her love life damage?"

David's eyebrows shot up to his hairline as he took in her words that were probably more biting than she'd honestly intended. "I," he started to say, but his ringing phone cut off any reply, "Sorry, I have to take this. It's your mother."

With a nod and a wry chuckle, Emma stood up to let him take Snow's call and walked back to the shooting range. Putting her earplugs and headphones back on, she made short work of reloading her clip from the ammo box on the sawhorse table to the side of the firing line. Checking to see that David was still on the phone, she was able to read his lips well enough to see that he was talking about her baby brother. Emma rolled her eyes as she turned back to the as yet unscathed targets.

She set her jaw and flipped off her weapon's safety. Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Emma visualized all of her insecurities, doubts, and self-loathing on the targets in front of her. It was easy enough when those same doubts whispered in her ear that she was less important as a daughter than as a savior to her own parents. Witness David's taking the call from Snow and interrupting one of their few father/daughter moments. She set her jaw and, after blinking away something she would swear was not a tear, Emma brought her gun up in a two-handed grip with her feet shoulder width apart, taking the classic Weaver stance one of her bounty hunting mentors had taught her out of prison. She took aim and without stopping to think about anything other than the metaphorical act of shooting and killing her doubtful whispers, she fired off all thirteen rounds in less than a minute.

Dimly aware of shouting behind her, Emma took off her ear protection, cleared and safed her weapon, and made her way downrange to check the sheet. Dimly aware of high-pitched shrieking coming from David's phone as well as his own deeper shouting, Emma was gratified to see that, rather than miss the sheet entirely, there was a single, large, ragged hole right where the bulls-eye used to be.

She turned to show David her success, but instead took a step back as he stormed up to her with a scowl taking over his face. "What the hell was that, Emma? I was on the phone with your mother!"

"You were behind the line," she defended, "I wasn't pointed at you, and I made sure I was taking every precaution!"

He shook his head. "Regardless, you scared your mother to death, and she was already freaking out about Neal. I have to get back to help her," he paused to gather up his own shooting gear, "Listen, are you going to be okay? I know we were in the middle of something a little bit ago."

See? They don't care enough about you to help. Emma shook her head, both to reassure her father and get rid of the whisper. "I'll be fine. Much better after that shooting. Trust me, David, you don't need to worry about me. At all," she finished.

Something in her tone must have stood out to him, because he narrowed his eyes for a brief second. "I'm really sorry to dash off like this, but we're having a hard time adjusting to the whole 'new baby' thing, your mother especially is having trouble. She keeps calling me about every little cough and sniffle."

Emma felt a surge of pride that her smile remained in place and her eyes didn't shoot the daggers she felt were ready to fire. It's not the first time a family of yours has replaced you with a baby. "Don't worry about it. Get out of here, and give Snow and the baby my best. I'll just stay behind and fire a few more clips to make sure I really have my head on straight." If he was going to treat her like a colleague, she would return the favor.

He narrowed his eyes at her again, but gave up trying to figure out what she meant. "Take care, Emma. Don't worry, you did the right thing. Regina will come around."

She just nodded and watched as he headed toward his cruiser. He never looked back, only regarding her when he was in the driver's seat. She gave a small wave before turning and reloading her clip.

David's car left the shooting area to the echoes of her shots ripping more holes in the targets.

A/N: There we go! I hope you liked this. Reviews and constructive criticism would be much appreciated!