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Just so you know, Neal isn't in this story. Since this is a bit AU, after Neverland he left Storybrooke. He's still alive, just not around.

The text in italics indicates a memory.

Warning: Some bad language in this chapter.

Chapter 9

"Hello?" Emma poked her head around the door of the apartment. It was dark and silent, which was unusual. Snow and David should have been home by now.

Emma turned the light on and recoiled in shock. She wasn't seeing the apartment's interior; instead she was looking at the kitchen of a familiar house. It was the Swan's house.

Suddenly Mr Swan himself came into the kitchen, muttering intelligibly. He poured himself some coffee, sat down, and ran his hands through his hair. The phone rang, and he picked it up immediately.

"Hello? Yes this is he…no of course…we will have her ready to go immediately…alright…see you soon." He hung up and then called for his wife, who came in after a few moments.

Mrs Swan had her hair tied in a bun and was wearing loose-fitting clothes as she was pregnant. It was obvious if you looked hard enough. She looked a little worn out but smiled at her husband as she entered. He spoke softly to her, as if fearing someone else would hear.

"The social worker called."

"Oh?"

"She's coming by for Emma soon."

"I see." Mrs Swan sat down next to her husband, sighing in what sounded like relief. "All of her things are packed. She still thinks we're going on holiday; we're going to have to tell her now."

Mr Swan nodded. "And after she's gone, we can focus on our real family." He put his hand on his wife's stomach, smiling. She placed her hand atop his, putting her head on his shoulder.

Soon enough light footsteps were heard and a little girl of three came bounding in, blonde curls bouncing. Emma smiled up at the adults, missing the way they silently communicated to each other. Mr Swan got up and kneeled in front of Emma.

"Emma dear, soon Mrs Jones is going to be coming round, ok? She's going to take you away from here, to where lots of other children are."

Emma frowned immediately. "What? But I wanna stay with you! Why do I have to go?" Tears started welling up in her eyes as the young girl tried to contemplate what was happening.

"Well Emma, you know that we're expecting a baby."

"Yup! And I get to be big sister, right?"

"Well…unfortunately we can't afford to look after two children. So you'll be going back to the group home, and then eventually another family will look after you."

"What? But we're a family! Daddy what's going on? I don't wanna go back! Don't make me!" Emma started outright sobbing, curling up on the floor. Mr Swan merely huffed impatiently.

"Stop that, Emma. We haven't adopted you yet; you're not part of this family. You'll go back to the home and another family will look after you, alright? It's just not going to be this one. I'm sorry."

He didn't sound at all sorry and stood up, opting to fetch Emma's bags from her room. Emma stood up after he left, wobbling slightly and turned to face Mrs Swan, who had started reading a newspaper during their conversation.

"Mommy? Why are you sending me away?"

Mrs Swan looked at Emma, a mixture of indifference and pity on her face. "Emma, don't worry. You'll find another family, I'm sure of it. We just can't keep you here."

The doorbell rang, and Mr Swan appeared with several bags in his arms. He deposited them in the hall and opened the door to an ageing lady with glasses, grey wispy hair and a no-nonsense expression on her face.

"Mrs Jones. Please come in." Mr Swan gestured the woman inside. "I'm afraid she's going to fight this. It's going to take some effort to get her to leave."

Mrs Jones nodded, waving a hand dismissively. "I've had plenty of experience with this, Mr Swan. I can handle an obnoxious three year old."

They proceeded into the kitchen and when Emma saw them she tried to hide behind a chair. Mrs Jones simply walked around and grabbed her by the arm, ignoring her protests.

"Be quiet, child!" she hissed. "You are coming with me without argument, back to the group home where you belong. You will no longer be a burden on these people, do you understand?"

Emma nodded, the words slowly sinking in. Tears trickled down her face as she looked at the family she could have had. She was a burden. They didn't want her anymore.

They left, Emma waving a half-hearted goodbye before trudging out to the car in silence. She cried silent tears on the journey, already mourning the first proper home she'd ever had. She didn't know what was waiting for her at the group home, but it wouldn't compare to the feel of having real parents. Emma curled up in a tight ball and shook with sobs. She wasn't enough for them. Who would she ever be enough for?

Emma awoke with a start, covered in sweat and shaking. It took her a few moments to realise where she was. She hugged her knees to her chest, tears still leaking out of her eyes. Her nightmares always appeared just when she thought she was done with them.

That particular one had had been plaguing Emma her whole life. It was mostly true, although Emma obviously hadn't been present the whole time; she'd filled in the blanks herself. The Swans had given her back once they discovered they were having a child of their own. She didn't remember much about that home, except that she felt safe there. The memory of abandonment had always surpassed anything else. She remembered Mrs Jones well however, shuddering at the thought of the cold bitch who always seemed to swoop in out of nowhere and take Emma away from home after home.

Emma shook herself out of her memories and decided to get up. It was early, but there was no way she was getting back to sleep any time soon. She changed into her usual attire and crept down the hallway, hearing soft snoring emitting from her parents' and Henry's rooms.

It was slowly getting lighter outside, so Emma decided to sit and watch the sunrise. She went into the back garden and sat on one of the various patio chairs. The air was cool and crisp, and it felt rejuvenating against Emma's still-flushed skin after her nightmare. She let it wash over her, taking the pain of the memories with it.

Eventually she calmed down. It always took a while to get past her nightmares and today was no different. The pain always felt fresh, like what she experienced had only just happened. It reopened the invisible wounds etched into her heart. And now, there was no one but herself to soothe them.

After a while, Emma felt the need for some coffee, and judging from the light outside it was now properly morning. It was likely that others were awake, so she made her way to the kitchen, hearing the unmistakeable voices of her parents in there talking.

Snow and David had started discussing baby names already, even though it was still early on in the pregnancy. Unfortunately it was all they had been able to talk about for days. They said they wanted to be completely prepared, which apparently meant just saying random potential names out loud all day. It was getting very exasperating for everyone, not just Emma. Even Henry had stopped offering up names and tended to leave the room when the conversation started again. Snow just kept shaking her head saying "I'll know it when I hear it."

Emma walked into the kitchen and groaned as she heard more possible names being suggested. There was no order to their discussion; they weren't even going alphabetically. She resisted the urge to bash her head against something as they spoke.

"Gabrielle?"

"No."

"Sophia?"

"Hmm. No."

Emma rolled her eyes and tried to block their voices out. When Regina came in a moment later and heard the conversation, she immediately wrinkled her nose as if she could smell something awful. She gave the Charmings a dirty look before going to make coffee, standing near to Emma who was already clutching her own cup.

"They're still at it?" she murmured, angrily pressing buttons on the machine.

Emma nodded, a sour look on her face. "Unfortunately. They have six months to decide this. I don't know why they're trying to figure it out now. I wish they would wait and give us some peace."

"John?"

"No."

Emma groaned and put her head in her hands. "Make it stop. Or rip my ears off. Or something. Please."

Regina chuckled. "I could silence them with magic if you want. Or just send them far, far away where no one can hear them. It wouldn't hurt. Much." She had a twinkle in her eye and winked at Emma as she spoke.

Emma burst out laughing at her words. Snow and David stopped their incessant name-discussion to look up in shock. Emma was laughing. With Regina. That was certainly a new development. And by the slight blush on Regina's cheeks, she was very happy that it was happening.

"Please do," Emma said, slightly breathy from the laughter. "Or just the silence part."

Snow looked slightly offended at the inference but chose not to say anything, however Emma's laughter was promptly cut short when their naming conversation resumed. She scowled at her parents and clutched her mug tighter in annoyance. Regina slammed down her own mug on the counter, her best glare being directed at the Charmings. They never seemed to pay attention to anyone else.

"Thomas?"

"No."

"Mark?"

No one had time to hear the reply to this suggestion over the sound of Emma's mug slipping from her grasp and shattering on the floor, covering her feet and the surrounding area with coffee and shards of china.

Snow, David and Regina all gasped. Emma was trembling and her eyes were glassy, as she was thrown into the haze of another memory that she never wanted to remember.

"Come on Emma, we're going now. Don't make such a fuss, silly girl."

Emma tried to get out of the vice grip she was currently in, but to no avail. Mrs Jones was back, forcing her out of another home because she was 'disruptive'. Emma had tried to be good, really tried, but to the family she was no more than a meal ticket. Even so, they had fed her and given her a bed and not hurt her. They'd mostly ignored her, but that was better than the alternative.

Now it was all being taken from her again. And who knows what the next lot would be like. She struggled again against Mrs Jones, but the woman practically threw her in the car.

"Now, we've actually managed to find an immediate replacement, so you'll be going there straightaway."

Emma fidgeted nervously. She clutched her bag to her chest; her possessions were now reduced to one bag of clothes, along with the baby blanket she was found with. She looked out of the window with dull eyes. She always seemed to mess up; no one ever wanted to keep her. She was never enough.

The home she'd just left had been one of the better ones, unfortunately. No one hurt her, they didn't starve her and she had a proper place to sleep. It wasn't a family and it wasn't love; but it was something safer than what she'd experienced in the past.

As they approached the next home, Emma, even at 12 years old, felt a deep sense of foreboding. The house was grey and exuded despair. The paint was flaking and the yard looked like it had never been looked after. It didn't look like anybody lived there, despite the three foster children other than Emma residing there.

Mrs Jones yanked the car door open with extreme ferocity and grabbed Emma, practically dragging her up the garden path. Emma rolled her eyes and wondered just when Mrs Jones was going to retire and get out of her life. She looked the same as she had when Emma was three, except for greyer hair and a few more wrinkles. But she always seemed stronger and more ferocious every time she appeared to take Emma away. Emma had no idea how old she actually was, but she wasn't about to incur the devil's wrath by asking.

Mrs Jones rapped smartly on the door, which opened surprisingly quickly. A tall, brown haired man stood behind it, a fake smile plastered on his face while he looked at Emma with subtle loathing.

"Mrs Jones," he said sweetly. "Marvellous. I take it this is Emma?"

Emma was thrust forward, her attempts to inch away failing. Feeling Mrs Jones's hand give a warning squeeze at her neck, Emma attempted a smile.

"Ah, Mr Taylor. I trust you can handle everything here? I need to be going, I'm afraid."

"Certainly, I wouldn't want to keep you. And you can call me Mark, by the way."

The adults said their goodbyes and Mrs Jones left without saying anything to Emma, as usual. As soon as she was out of earshot, Mark growled. He grabbed Emma and pushed her into the house, ignoring her squeaks of protest. He rounded on her after shutting the door.

"Now listen you little brat. You will not disobey me while you're here, understand? You will do everything I say, otherwise the consequences will be very severe. Do I make myself clear?"

When Emma didn't immediately respond, he slapped her across the face, causing her to stumble and a pained gasp to escape from her lips.

"Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?" His eyes glinted dangerously as he stepped closer to Emma, his hand raised ready to strike again.

"Yes," Emma whispered, clutching her burning cheek.

Mark seemed satisfied. "Good. And you will call me sir. I will not have you disrespecting your betters. Especially when I am so far above your worthless self."

"Y-Yes sir," Emma stuttered.

Mark smirked and started walking to what was unmistakeably the kitchen, gesturing for her to follow. When Emma entered, she saw three other children who looked about her age. With a gulp, Emma acknowledged the bruises all over their arms.

"This is what happens to people who disobey me, understand? Now eat."

Emma nodded and sat down next to the others, eyeing her measly meal with sadness. No way would she be able eat properly for the next few months. Sighing inwardly, Emma resigned herself to eat, while trying to hold back her tears.

"Emma?"

Emma was shaken out of her memory by Regina, who looked pale and frightened. She looked up to see her parents staring at her in shock and confusion. When she looked down she could see the spilt coffee and mug shards littering the floor.

"I, um, what happened?"

Snow glanced at David, a worried look on her face. "Well you dropped the mug you were holding. Then you sort of went rigid and were shaking. I-we-I wasn't sure what was happening. Are you alright, sweetheart?"

Emma sucked in a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment. She forced the memory to fade from her mind, bringing herself fully into the present.

"I'm fine," she said, a fake smile plastered on her face. "Sorry. I just had a weird moment and was lost in thought. It's ok though, you don't need to worry."

All three of them saw through it. Emma was lying; it was clear as day. She was pale and clammy, and she was still trembling. She had clearly been immersed in thinking about something, and that something was no doubt awful.

"I'll clean this up," murmured Regina, hastily fetching a dustpan and brush to clean up the china.

Once all evidence of the moment was removed, the four remained in uneasy silence while they made breakfast. Regina kept shooting anxious glances at Emma, who remained in a dazed state for much of the meal. She didn't even notice what she was doing or what she was eating. It was as if she was on autopilot. Thankfully Henry wasn't awake yet to witness it. It was an unnerving sight to behold.

Once they had eaten and Regina had gone to wake up Henry, Snow and David broached the subject of that day's activities.

"Emma, sweetie. We were thinking of taking a picnic to the woods today. We would love it if you would come with us."

Emma nodded absentmindedly, feeling the need to escape the house for a while. It suddenly made her feel claustrophobic, and she needed to breathe some fresh air. She didn't really notice what Snow and David were doing until a giant picnic hamper was plopped down on the island in front of her, full of food. She raised an eyebrow.

"That's a lot of food. Are you sure we can eat all of that?"

Henry came bounding into the room at that moment, his eyes shining with delight as he looked at the hamper.

"Of course, Ma! Besides, I'm starving already."

Emma chuckled and ruffled his hair. He certainly got his appetite from her.

Once they were all changed and ready they set off. They'd decided to walk there to enjoy the nice day, and to work up an appetite for lunch. Emma was carrying various blankets whilst David carried the heavy hamper. It was a leisurely walk, but the scenery was beautiful as always. The forest was large and lush, filled with the delightful smells and sounds of nature. They walked a fair way until they reached a clearing, where they put down all of their stuff.

Emma shut her eyes briefly and breathed deeply. She could feel the calming influence of the world around her. She smiled as she saw Henry running around, enjoying the open air. He looked so carefree that it warmed her heart. He was laughing and squealing as Regina attempted to tickle him, and they eventually collapsed in a laughing heap on top of the blankets.

Emma shook her head laughing at them and proceeded to join them in sitting down. David opened the hamper and they began their slightly early lunch. As they were chomping down on sandwiches, Henry regarded his grandparents curiously.

"Grandma? You haven't mentioned baby names all morning. I mean it's all you've been able to talk about for the last few days. Have you chosen a name then?" He looked hopeful, missing the warning look being sent to him by his brunette mother. The Charmings had actually shut up for a few hours on the subject, but it seemed like the peace wasn't going to last.

Snow smiled at her grandson. "Well, we actually have a shortlist now, so there's not much need to keep speculating, although we have to decide at some point."

"What are the names?" Henry asked excitedly.

"For a girl, it's between Rose, Lily and Eva. Although I think we're pretty set on Eva if it's a girl."

"Just like your mom?"

Snow beamed at Henry. "Yes, my mother's name was Eva. She inspired me in so many ways, and I would love to honour her memory that way."

"And if it's a boy?"

"We're thinking either George, Connor or Mark."

Emma suddenly choked on the water she was drinking at the mention of that name. The others looked at her in alarm before Regina clapped her on the back. Emma breathed in deeply once her airway was clear, and held a hand to her racing heart. A hot wave of fear shot through her. She couldn't let her parents call the baby Mark, but if she said that out loud then they would want an explanation. And she didn't think she could give it. It was too painful and too humiliating.

"Emma? Are you alright?" David looked on worriedly as Emma gasped for breath.

She nodded, forcing a smile. "Of course. Sorry, it just went down the wrong way," she said, gesturing to the water. This seemed to satisfy the others and they let it go, talking a bit more about the baby. Emma wasn't listening. Her thoughts were running a mile a minute. She didn't know what to do. She felt alone with the haunting memories of her past, but she couldn't let herself show her pain or she'd be vulnerable and exposed. And they would have the power to break her, yet again. Emma dug her nails into the palm of her hand, trying to quell her panic. Fortunately no one else seemed to notice her inner turmoil.

Soon they all lay back on the blankets, enjoying the sun as it filtered through the trees. The atmosphere was relaxing, and the soft chirps of the birds were soothing. Emma felt her eyes closing and tried to fight against it, but her exhausted body won out and she slipped into the realm of unwelcome dreams once again.

Mark's furious face was in front of Emma's, his teeth bared and an animalistic look in his eyes.

"You brat," he hissed. "You are making me look bad! How dare you! You will pay for this!"

He shoved Emma into the small room at the end of the corridor on the top floor. It was known as 'the dungeon' to all the children who ever lived in that house. It was cold and dark. It was a prison of sorts. A place where the screams of innocents were shut out by the captor.

Emma was visibly shaking with fear. As Mark undid his belt and readied it for his own special brand of punishment, she started to beg.

"No please! I'll be good, I promise. Please don't hurt me! I didn't mean to!"

Mark merely snarled at her. "You. You had the fucking audacity to faint due to malnourishment? I had to say you'd been ill recently and weren't eating. I had to play a concerned parent. Do you realise how this looks? You fucking selfish brat. How dare you try and make me look bad. You will not get any food for a week, and if you dare to try and faint again, then I will beat you so badly you won't be able to walk. Do you understand me?"

He brought his face down within inches of Emma's, breathing heavily. The stench of alcohol was clear on his breath, but he wasn't very drunk. He knew full well what he was doing.

Emma nodded and managed a weak "Yes sir."

Mark spat in her face and then stood up, flexing the belt. He'd added studs to the buckle, telling people that it looked manly but really he used it as extra ammunition when beating the children he 'cared' for.

"Turn around," he hissed.

Emma knelt down shakily and turned with her back facing him.

"Take off your shirt."

Emma sobbed as she lifted her shirt off over her head. It fell to the ground and she braced herself for the oncoming blows.

She heard herself scream before she felt the pain.

Blinding. Burning. Hot. Agony.

Time and time again he lashed into her. The belt clawed at her skin, cutting it open with ferocity. Blood flowed freely from the wounds. The scars would take months to fully disappear. She wouldn't be moving without agony for at least a week. Remnants of some of the scars would never fade. They would be small and easily missed, but they would be there. An everyday reminder of the horrors inflicted on a young innocent helpless girl by a brute that abused his power.

After what felt like hours, he stopped. Emma was a shaking bloody mess on the floor. Mark simply got out a cloth and wiped his bloody belt buckle before threading it back through his jeans.

He scoffed.

"You can stay in here tonight, princess. And if you so much as yawn in front of anybody again, I will do much worse to you. Do you understand?"

A muffled sob was all he got in response, but he seemed to accept it. He observed her for a moment. It was the first time she'd been in the 'dungeon', even after living there for two months. She was always resilient, but he figured he would knock it out of her soon enough.

"Oh Emma. Didn't anyone ever tell you that you will never be loved, and you will never find a real family? I don't know why you still hope. You have nothing. No one will ever want you. You will never be enough for anyone."

He cackled evilly before turning and exiting the room. As he was shutting the door, he took one last glance at Emma's bloody back.

"Welcome to hell, princess."