Sorry for the delay with the update. Things are crazy. This chapter is a bit shorter, but filled with important things.

To reference of last chapter's title (Tabula Rasa) was in fact a lost reference. It is Latin for Blank slates. A philosopher, John Locke (who John Lock from lost is named for) had a theory that we are all born blank slates. The phrase is a episode title for a backstory about Kate. I thought it was quite fitting. Plus, I am obsessed with both shows.

WARNING: Mentions of abuse, PTSD, ect. I tried to not go into too much detail. The section about PTSD, post traumatic stress disorder, is correct. Foster kids do have the highest percent chance of getting it.

Enjoy! Please review!

Chapter 11: Percentage

"My mother was sick for as long as I could remember. She got cancer a year after I was born. That was probably what ruined my parents relationship." Killian breathed out. "I don't know though. Maybe things had always been bad and that just set my father off. She died when I was six."

Killian did not leave Emma enough time to say the standard "I am sorry" that they were both so used to hearing before he kept going. "My father poured himself into his work. He was a businessman for some huge company over in Ireland. He moved us to the states a month after things happened. He told us that the business was expanding." Killian chuckled grimly. "Being only six and seven and a half, Liam and I believed him."

"He walked out on us a few months later. Just left in the middle of the night. No note, no nothing. It took a while for word to get out about what happened. We were placed into the system immediately."

Emma did not envy the fact he once had parents. He probably did not envy the fact she did not know whether her father was a dead beat and did not have to live through losing his mother. The pain they both felt was real and alive.

"Foster care wasn't bad at first. We understood we were kinda old for the whole adoption thing. But at the beginning I was in pretty good homes. The Hathaways were the best, but the next few homes after that were pretty great. We were pretty blessed. There was the occasional bad home or two, but no horrors."

The idea of real families for a foster home instead of people who used her or did not care sounded like a strange concept. She knew they existed, but they were up in the categories of Santa Claus and the Easter bunny. Still, she sat silent and did not comment on his string of luck on which she had missed out.

"Jerry Hitcher." Killian stated as if the name were a fact. "We went into his home when I was 12. When we started getting older, it was hard to find people who would take both of us, so this was amazing. We both thought this would be great, we would be together. Little did we know that Jerry was insane."

Emma bit her lip at the mention of the crazy father, knowing what was coming next. They were all a percentage of what happened in foster care. Some of them were the unfortunate small percentages. Emma did not want to know what percent Liam or Killian fit into.

"He would come home drunk, screaming and raving about no one knows. Normally Liam and I would hide out and stay away from him. There was never any real food in the fridge, just beer and maybe some old bread or stale leftovers."

Killian's voice started to choke. "It was January, maybe early February when it all started." Emma closed her eyes as she heard him struggle to remember the dates. She too knew what it was like for the memories to fade together to the point where it was close to impossible what happened when. "We'd been there for a while. He...when he'd get angry and drunk, sometimes he'd…"Killian sighed, finally letting a few tears that he had been so strongly holding back flow freely. "Sometimes he would just need something to let his anger out on. He blamed us for whatever was going on. He'd yell at the both of us. Scream like a lunatic until he was read in the face. If he was drunk enough, he-he would beat-" His voice caught on the words. "First few times it was just some bruises. Nothing we couldn't hide." Emma held her breath, waiting for him to say it.

"Fifth time he bashed his head into the wall." Killian breathed out, a mixture of air and emotion, tears evident in his eyes. Killian bent over himself, stopping the motion of the old porch swing, sobbing into his hands. Emma did not say anything, just put her hand on his back, soothing him until he regained composure.

He sat up slowly and she retreated her hand, placing it awkwardly in her lap. "The social workers figured the abuse would have been traumatic so they thought I should get therapy. They were convinced I was going to get Post traumatic stress."

They were all at risk for getting PTSD. Emma knew she, as well as other foster children, had the highest rates of the disorder. Higher rates that veterans. The abuse of the system, the abuse he had seen, the abuse they had lived through, was enough to derail their lives.

"Did you?" Emma whispered, speaking for the first time since he started telling her about his life.

"Of course. Didn't surprise any of them. I've been in therapy ever since, even with the changes of homes. I only started to really get better once I came here. I felt love again."

"Killian, I'm so-"

"Thank you for listening." He cut her off, showing the hints of a smile. "I have never made it through my whole story, not even with the therapist. Thank you."

"We are not the label, Killian." She reminded him of what he had told her time and time again.

"No one has ever understood me." He thought aloud. "Until you came along. Today was his birthday. That was why I was just so...you know. But you saw it was more than just a bad day. You understand. I think we make a pretty good team, Swan."

Emma smiled, slow to respond with words. "I think so too."

"I think Liam would have liked you. He would have bloody made fun of me about us, would've said I liked you."

Blushing, Emma teased. "Well, do you?"

Now it was Killian's turn to blush. "Emma, you're my sister."

"Not really. And in a few years I won't be." Emma had no clue where this boldness was coming.

Killian sat back, kicking his one leg over the other. "Maybe one day we'll be something."

"You're avoiding the question."

"I know. I care about you, love. Let's just leave it at that for right now. We have our entire lives ahead of us."

For the first time, neither was completely terrified at the idea of the future. The empty promise of them seeing each other again was enough.

"Okay."