New chapter up and its a bit longer, but by far one of my favorites! Digging even deeper into Killian's (And Emma's to a degree) backstory. With Emma, it is obviously going to take a while to break down all those walls and figure out what exactly has happened to her in all those homes. So far, you know only the surface of these two characters! I am so excited to show you all I have in store for them!

Thanks for reading! If you are in need of some fluff, check out my one shot series Be My Happy Ending.

Enjoy!

Chapter 7: Old Too Early

Emma Swan could not remember the last time she went to a was a rare occurrence in the system to find oneself at a restaurant. Most of the families she had been with either did not have the money to take them out to eat or simply did not want to treat her to something like that , given the fact she was not their biological child.

But as Mrs. Abernathy showed her time and time again, she was different. She cared about both Emma and Killian very deeply. Whether it be about school, food or anything else, the older woman made sure they were taken care of and happy. She wanted them to both enjoy this time she told them-they should enjoy their childhood.

No one had ever told Emma that and she assumed the same went for Killian. Killian was still an enigma to her, though. There were things he was hiding, past secrets he would not tell her. Not that she blamed him-she had not been open about everything that had happened to her in her past. Emma could tell that he had been hurt, very much so, and it stemmed from more than the abandonment and the feeling of being alone. Something must have happened. She wouldn't push him though-he could tell her on his own time, if ever.

Dinner was filled with light conversation, laughter-everything Emma imagined dinners should be like. Her walls were still sky high, but she saw them slowly coming down, even if it was only a brick at a time. She was to scared to trust Killian or Mrs. Abernathy, to feel comfortable in this new home out of the fear of being sent back. No one ever kept her and no one ever loved her. She knew, despite what they would tell her, she was just damaged goods.

But that did not mean she could not let herself be happy, just for a little bit. She could enjoy these moments, the dinners and the games nights and all those things that Mrs. Abernathy insisted they do. She could enjoy them until she was sent back for messing it all up.

The night went by without a hitch, until the check came. The waitress, a young girl in her twenties, gave them the check and said, "You and your grand-kids have a nice night"

Grand-kids. She thought they were family. Mrs. Abernathy did not correct her-it was an honest mistake. An older woman with two teenagers-to any passing eye, that was what it looked like, a grandmother with her two grand-kids. But Emma knew the truth. No matter what she wanted, they were not a family. She would never have a family. She was an orphan.

Killian seemed less phased by the comment. He had been with Mrs. Abernathy for seven months at that point and probably had been mistaken for her grandson many times, to the point where it no longer made him flinch. But this was new to Emma. In other homes, if she was mistaken for a relative, a foster parent of sibling would make sure everyone knew what she was-the foster kid.

The car ride home was filled with conversation and laughter, just as it always was. Mrs. Abernathy wanted to hear everything about school, swimming, or anything really that either of them were involved in. She did not seem to pick up on Emma's reaction to the waitress's comment, but Killian detected that something was off. He always did. No matter what she wanted to be true, he could read her like an open book.

Later that night, some point after Mrs. Abernathy retired for bed, Emma found herself outside on the old porch swing. The crisp evening air was comforting and the setting sun provided something to gaze at while she cleared her head. She knew it was only a matter of time before Killian confronted her. In the short time that they had known each other, Emma felt a strange connection with him. He was one of the few, perhaps the only, people that she felt that she could trust. With almost everyone she met, she felt a feeling in the pit of her stomach, telling her that they were not to be trusted, but that was not there with him.

That terrified her. This guy was different than anyone she had ever met. Killian understood her, took time to try and break down her walls, a task few tried and none carried out. He was determined to get to know her, the real her, not just the walls and the fears.

Emma's life was too unstable for any type of real romantic relationship. To add to that, she was to young, and yet, despite her few years, to broken. At fourteen, she had seen a lifetime of pain and experienced too many heartaches. Emma did not see Killian that way though. Maybe she could some day, but she was to damaged to ever have a real would age out of the system in less than two years and never look back. She didn't want him to look back-she wanted him to get away from this life and find a better one.

As if on cue, Killian came into the yard, breaking her from her thoughts. He sat down on the other side of the porch swing, creating a squeaking noise. Killian stared straight, not looking at her.

"I'm just gonna need some time." Emma started before he could ask her anything. "This is all new to me. I haven't been in a good home in a while."

Killian slightly nodded, still looking straight ahead. He sighed. "Was it the grandchild comment?"

Emma chuckled to herself, replaying the open book phrase in her head. "Yeah. It just took my by surprise, that's all."

"When did you stop believing that you would get a family?" He asked her, cutting straight to the point. He never danced around the issue with her. There was no point-the two of them understood each other in a way that most did not.

"I don't know." Emma answered truthfully. "I was young. I moved around a lot after my first home. I think maybe when I was seven. I was in a home for two weeks before they got rid of me. I saw that no one would ever adopt me because I was getting too old." And was too damaged. Emma thought.

"I was a bit older, I assume, but I was not in the system from birth like you." Replied Killian, running his hand through his thick, dark hair. "Nine maybe."

"How old were you when you got into the system?" Emma asked. He still had never told her anything about his reasons for being in the situation he was.

"Seven. Moved to the states at six, placed into the system at seven." Killian stated as if he were reading off facts.

"Why were you-" But Emma cut herself off. If he wanted her to know his past, he would tell her. She did not want to push him into something with which he was uncomfortable.

"Sick mother, dead beat father." Killian gave a dry laugh. "My mother died when I was six. My father would have gone completely insane if we had stayed in Ireland, so he moved us here-said it was the best option for his boys. He walked out about seven months later."

Emma sat silent. She knew what abandonment was, what it felt like, but he knew. He was old enough to remember being left alone and had to live with that every day. "I'm sorry." She whispered. "I can't even imagine. Was it just you?" Emma hoped she was not pushing too far into his personal life, but something in her gut told her she was alright. They understood-she knew how much she could handle, and he could handle the same, if not more.

Killian finally looked at her, on the verge of tears. His eyes watered, but his voice was emotionless, most likely forced. "Older brother." He told her, regaining composure. "A year older than me."

Emma mentally figured out that this brother could be eighteen, if the months worked out right, meaning he had already aged out of the system. Clearly this was a sensitive topic for him though, so she chose not to question it further.

Killian changed the subject, slightly. "Do you ever imagine yourself having a family in the future?"

Was this guy a mind reader or something? Emma thought, remembering what was going through her head before Killian joined her. "Don't know. Probably not-I have never really been family material."

"Aye, same. I would love too,but I fear that my past might hold me back."

"I thought you said that you could have a future regardless being a foster kid?" Emma reminded him.

"When I said that, I was trying to get both of us to believe it, love. You are really the only one that understands this. It's hard to imagine a future when your past has been so-"

"Sucky?" Emma offered.

Killian laughed. "I was going to say hard, but sucky works too."

"Well," Emma told him, seriously, despite the lightness in her voice. "I hope you get the future you want. You deserve it after your sucky past."

"So do you, love."

Emma nodded, not really believing him, but not having the energy in her to put up a fight. She let out a yawn that she had been suppressing for a good bit of their conversation.

Killian stood up. "Alright, lass. Bedtime." He extended her hand to her. Emma took it without hesitation.

"May I escort the princess to her room?" He teased and Emma could not hold back her laughter. He pretended to be hurt. "What? I am just trying to make sure that you make it to your room safely!"

"My room is on the second floor, not on the other side of town!" Emma pointed out, her voice raising a bit. She enjoyed this-just having normal conversations like normal teenagers.

He tugged on her hand and led her into the house. "Yes, but no matter how far the journey, it is my job to make sure you arrive in one piece."

"So now you're being a gentleman?" She poked fun at time.

He leaned closer to her, appearing as if her were going to whisper in her ear. "I am always a gentleman." She smiled and he pulled her up the stairs, still with a firm grasp on her hand. Emma was thankful that Mrs. Abernathy was asleep because, no matter how platonic it was, seeing her two teenage foster children holding hands might raise some flags.

"Could have had me fooled. I think you are more of a pirate."

"If I am a pirate, then you are a princess." He joked back as they made their way to outside her room, making sure to keep their voices down as to not wake Mrs. Abernathy.

"I am the farthest thing from a princess that their is."

"Well then, you can just be my princess." He said. Suddenly she was aware that they were still holding hands. He must have felt the awkwardness after his last comment and decided that now was the time to let go. "I think you have some pirate in you too." He added, trying to get away from what he said earlier, a comment that surely came out wrong.

"Well, that means a lot coming from a pirate like you." She opened her door and leaned against the frame.

"Well, love, I suppose I should let you get to sleep. Even pirates need their rest." He took a step back. "Goodnight Swan."

"Goodnight, Killian."