Once Upon a Time 1. Does Anybody Hear Her?

**This hiatus is going to be the death of me, so I decided to ease the pain a little and preoccupy myself with writing this fanfiction. Hope you all enjoy!**

**This chapter is dedicated to the wonderful Matsaroon on Tumblr – go check out her blog and wish her a happy birthday!**

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Chapter 1 - Does Anybody Hear Her?

_She is yearning_

_For shelter and affection_

_That she never found at home._

_She is searching_

_For a hero to ride in_

_To ride in and save the day._

While most of the class were gazing wistfully out of the classroom window, hoping that time would speed up, Emma Swan was staring intently at the clock, begging, praying even, that it would slow down.

It was a Friday afternoon, and for any other 14 year old that would mean that they would feel excitement at the prospect of getting away from school for a few days, but not Emma. Getting out of school meant going back home - or to what everyone thought was her home. To her, it wasn't home. Home wasn't a place filled with torment and anguish; it was supposed to be a happy place - with actual parents. Not abusive foster parents. At least, that's what her books told her. In fact, she secretly imagined this place that she was stuck living in to be like a place in one of her books - a castle even. Yes, a castle. A castle where her foster parents were keeping her trapped. Where there was no way out - no escape route. It didn't even have turrets.

The bell then decided to ring at that point, pulling Emma from her musing and filling her with dismay. The students around her started to pack up as quickly as they could and began to tear out of the classroom as she gulped and shuffled her papers together, trying to delay the inevitable for as long as possible. She sighed and stood up from her chair slowly, grabbing her backpack and slinging it over her shoulder as she started to follow the rest of her classmates out of the room.

"Have a good weekend, Emma!" Her teacher called as she trudged past his desk at the front of the classroom.

"Don't count on that," She mumbled quietly. Slipping out the classroom door and into the hallway, she was nearly carried away by the usual multitude of students that were cramming books into their bags and yelling goodbyes to friends. Emma pressed herself against the wall for a few seconds, waiting for the crowd to die down a little, before heading toward her locker at the end of the hallway. Pointedly ignoring the fact that someone had stuck chewing gum onto her locker, she pulled the door open and dumped her textbooks inside. She didn't need to take anything with her for the weekend - save one item. Slowly opening the little red notebook, she gently ran her fingers over the small note that she had pasted on the inside cover:

_Never stop believing.__  
- Love, Mom and Dad_

Emma smiled and allowed herself that moment of peace, before closing the notebook and placing it back inside the locker. Better that it stay here – where it was safe - than back in her castle.

Suddenly, her locker door slammed shut with an almighty bang, and she clutched her hand to her chest in shock, having barely pulled it out of the way in time. She swiftly turned around and came face to face with a handful of senior students.

Crap. Not today.

She quickly scanned the group, hoping that her wonderful boyfriend would be with them and that they were all passing by and simply wanted to offer her a friendly hello. Unfortunately for her, the odds were not in her favour today though, as she couldn't see his bright eyes in the crowd.

"Hey, Swan," One of the seniors at the front of the group sneered, unpleasantly yanking her back to the present. He was standing tall, looking as proud and arrogant as ever. The lead bully - though he appeared to everyone else as the cool stud of the seniors.

Rolling her eyes, Emma snapped, "What do you want?"

The senior spat out the question, "Why the hell do you even carry around that stupid notebook?"

"I don't have to answer to you!" She retorted.

A chorus of 'ooh's' rose up from the group and they all started to nudge one another and chuckle. The senior who had first spoken, ignored Emma and replied with a cocky grin, "It's not like your parents even wanted you in the first place, so why bother having a keepsake of them?"

Emma clenched her fists. "Bug off."

"Aw, is little Emmy getting angry?" Another female senior in the back piped up. "Well, she is rather mentally unstable considering the fact that she's an orphan!"

The group laughed and Emma looked down, gritting her teeth.

"You know what?" The first senior spoke up again. "Let's help her."

The group all gave each other confused looks and Emma felt as equally bewildered. Narrowing her eyes at him, she shook her head and replied, "Whatever help you have to offer, I don't want -"

"Oh trust me, I am only trying to help." With that, he reached out and shoved her out of the way of her locker and started to yank at the door, trying to break into it. Emma's eyes widened upon realisation.

Her notebook.

"No! Don't!" Her voice pierced the air shrilly as she ran forward and grabbed his arm, trying to stop him. He pushed her away again, harshly this time, and she fell to the ground. Clenching her fists, she stood up, ignoring the pain from her old and now new bruises, and grabbed his arm again. The other seniors started to gather around her, some at the front of the group pulling her until she was forced to let go of the senior and fell to the ground again. She felt her shirt sleeve tear at the hands of the seniors, and she gasped. How was she going to hide this from her foster parents? The seniors all started to tease her cruelly, as the senior at her locker continued to tug at the handle, trying to break in.

"Get the hell away from me!" Emma started to yell, in hopes that they would listen. Instead, they just laughed and mocked her. Nearing sobs, she slid further down the wall, and covered her face with her hands. White, hot flashes were tearing through her, the noise building up, and she couldn't contain the many terrible, torturous flashbacks running through her head as tears streamed down her face. Unable to take the bullying any longer, she raised her head and screamed out, "Go away!"

"What's going on over here?"

A voice.

A single voice, filled with sternness and concern cut through all of the noise and silenced everyone, halting them in whatever action they were doing.

Emma raised her tear-stained face as all of the seniors swivelled around slowly and moved out of the way of Emma, who now had a clear view of her rescuer. A petite looking woman with short cropped hair was standing there, a frown on her face, one hand on her hip and the other clutching a thick book. She looked like someone in authority, though Emma had never seen her in the school before. The woman seemed to have all of the seniors entranced and frozen under her glare. Raising her eyebrows, she spoke again with an impatient tone, "I said, what's going on?"

"Uh, nothing, ma'am," One of the seniors decided to finally say and the rest of them nodded in agreement. Quickly and without a second glance at the girl who they were bullying, they all dispersed and took off down the hall, leaving Emma, who was still sitting pitifully on the floor. The woman frowned at their retreating backs and turned towards Emma's direction and softly gasped upon seeing her. She quickly came forward and knelt in front of Emma, placing the book down on the floor.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" The woman asked, concern evident in her voice.

"Uh," Emma said dumbly. "Yeah." She sniffed and quickly rubbed her face to clear it of tears. Another gasp from the woman caused her to lower her hand from her face to look at her. The woman was staring intently at Emma's arm, and Emma brought her gaze down to look at her arm and immediately noticed the large tear in her sleeve.

"Crap," She whispered. That really was going to be hard to hide.

"What happened here?" The young woman's voice brought her back to reality and she looked at her worried face.

Emma shrugged, rubbing her eyes again, the emotions of it wearing down on her. Her throat felt like it was closing up, and she knew that if she spoke she would probably burst into tears. There was something about this stranger that made Emma just want to crawl into her arms and let her wipe away her tears. She shook away that thought quickly.

"I'm fine," She whispered, brushing off her emotions. The woman gave a small smile and stood up, offering Emma her hand. Emma hesitated before lightly clutching it, letting the woman pull her to her feet.

"Thank you," She quickly let go of her hand and lowered her gaze. "I should probably get going now -"

"Hold on, shouldn't you get those bruises looked at?"

Emma's heart stopped. Snapping her head up, she asked sharply, "What?"

The woman faltered at Emma's fierce expression, but steeled herself and indicated with a nod of her head towards Emma's arm. She leaned forward and gently grasped it, lightly pulling the torn sleeve away. The sleeve had been torn in a way that showed off Emma's forearm - or rather, showcased all of the bruises on it.

Snatching her arm back, Emma took a few steps back and the woman quickly raised her arms in a surrender motion, indicating no harm.

"It's okay," the woman soothed. "I just want to help. Why don't you come with me to the nurse's office? I can sew up your shirt for you, and I would like to take a closer look at those bruises, but if you don't want me to, that's okay."

Emma sized up the woman. She seemed harmless and she did need her shirt fixed...

"Okay," She agreed hesitantly. The woman smiled and reached down to pick up the book she was carrying. Emma cocked her head to the side to try to see the cover of book, but her curiosity of it was drawn away when the woman asked her for her name.

"Emma. Emma Swan."

The woman's eyes and smile grew wide. "Emma. That's a lovely name."

"Thanks," Emma blushed slightly at the compliment.

"I'm Mary Margaret," The woman introduced. "I teach fourth grade at the primary school next door."

Emma finally gave a small smile, and the two started to walk down the hall.


	2. Unbreak

**Thank you to all who reviewed! Here's chapter 2!**

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Chapter 2 - Unbreak

_For every dream that you lost_

_Every tear that it cost,_

_I will,_

_I will unbreak you._

_All the pain that you feel,_

_Let this moment be real._

_I will,_

_I will unbreak you._

"...If you love them and they love you - they will always find you," Mary Margaret concluded, a small bittersweet settling in her heart. The young fourth-grade students all gazed up at her with admiration, and she smiled sweetly back at them. There was nothing she loved more than children. They always put a smile to her face but for whatever reason, she always seemed to feel a pang of emotion when she looked down at these small, innocent faces. Like something was missing in her life...

She was drawn out of her musings by the sound of the bell. Immediately her students began to stuff books into their bags and noisy chatter filled the room as students shouted their goodbyes to her.

"We will pick this up first thing Monday morning," Mary Margaret called. "No running!"

She walked towards her desk to clean up, and had to hold back a chuckle as she watched her students impatiently walk out of the classroom, obviously trying to obey her in not running. Sitting down at her desk, she reached into her desk drawer to retrieve her notes from the class and her hand brushed against something. Eyebrows furrowed, she opened the drawer wider to take a closer look.

It was a book. A thick, wide book with the words "Once Upon a Time" beautifully scrawled across the front.

She frowned, pulling it out of the drawer. When had she received this? Maybe one of her students had brought it in and left it behind; in fact, there was probably a name on the inside. Mary Margaret opened the front cover to check. There wasn't a name, but there was a square-shaped tear in the paper and underneath that was an address written in blue scribble. The address was for the high school next door. How on earth had it ended up here?

Eyebrows still furrowed in bewilderment, she picked it up and stood up. She might as well return it.

Mary Margaret grabbed her handbag and walked out of the classroom door. Heading out of the school, she waved to some enthusiastic kindergarten students in passing and walked in through the high school gates and attempted to squeeze herself through the horde of high school students that were trying to leave. She wondered if she should ask one of the students if they knew about the book, but ultimately decided that it would probably be best to go to the school office and leave it with them. Whoever owned it could come and retrieve it from there on Monday.

The hallways inside the school were a lot emptier and Mary Margaret held out the book in front of her as she walked, studying the cover. 'Once Upon a Time'? These must be a book of fairytales, she decided and smiled. How cute.

Suddenly a yell tore out. Mary Margaret snapped her head up. Further down the hall were a group of students surrounding something. She looked around, trying to spot a teacher to help. The hallways were empty of people in authority, and Mary Margaret frowned and decided to go check on what was happening. The students voices grew louder and she recognised a teasing tone to them. As she got closer, she could see that one of the students was trying to break into a locker and the rest were pointing and laughing at something. The original voice she heard suddenly screamed out loud and clear again;

"Go away!"

The students were ganging up on another student?

"What's going on over here?" Mary Margaret intervened sternly and loudly, placing one hand on her hip.

The students all froze in their actions and swivelled around to face her. The crowd cleared a little and Mary Margaret could make out a frightened blonde head. Anger coursed through her. How dare these students bully a young girl! She raised her eyebrows at the guilty looking students and repeated impatiently, "I said, what's going on?"

One of the students finally spoke up, chuckling nervously, "Uh, nothing, ma'am."

The rest of the students nodded vigorously and with affirming glances to one another, they tore down the hall, and Mary Margaret frowned, watching them flee. Cowards.

A sniffle brought her back to the situation at hand and she turned back to the student sitting on the floor. Mary Margaret gasped upon seeing her and her heart broke at the sight. The girl looked so pitiful and defeated. Mary Margaret rushed forward and knelt in front of her, putting the book on the floor next to her.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" She asked in a worried tone, the pet name slipping out subconsciously.

The girl looked upset but quietly mumbled that she was okay. She raised her arm to wipe her face but Mary Margaret immediately caught sight of the girl's violently-torn shirt sleeve and gasped. The girl lowered her arm and upon seeing it, cursed quietly.

Mary Margaret felt her heart pang with pity and care, and she softly asked again, "What happened here?"

The girl raised her head and shrugged but Mary Margaret could see the tears in her eyes. The poor girl was obviously trying to be strong. Oh, how she wanted to reach out and wipe those tears away...

"I'm fine," The girl insisted, seemingly reading Mary Margaret's mind. She smiled gently and stood up, offering the student her hand, and the girl hesitated before accepting it. Mary Margaret pulled her up from the ground and was surprised at how light she was. Glancing down at their clasped hands, she noticed the girl's torn sleeve once more and nearly gasped in shock upon seeing the skin underneath the cloth. Bruises covered the girl's arm, and Mary Margaret couldn't help but stare in horror. Who could do such a thing? The girl didn't seem to notice Mary Margaret's shocked expression and quickly pulled her hand away, and Mary Margaret's attention was drawn away by the girl thanking her.

"I should probably get going now -"

"Hold on," Mary Margaret interrupted, images of the bruises swirling around in her head. "Shouldn't you get those bruises looked at?"

The girl's eyes widened in shock and fear, and she snapped, "What?"

Mary Margaret was taken aback by the girl's tone, but realised that she was probably scared. Poor girl. She nodded towards the girl's arm, and reached out and gently pulled the torn sleeve away from her. Mary Margaret could see all of the bruises clearly now and her heart wept at the sight of them. There were so many of them, all varying colours, and they probably continued further up her arm too. The girl seemed to come to her senses and she yanked her arm out of Mary Margaret's light grip and took a few steps back. Mary Margaret raised her arms in alarm.

"It's okay," Mary Margaret reassured, silently praying that the girl would accept her help. "I just want to help. Why don't you come with me to the nurse's office? I can sew up your shirt for you, and I would like to take a closer look at those bruises, but if you don't want me to, that's okay."

She watched as the girl scrutinised her for a few moments before hesitantly agreeing. Mary Margaret gave a small, relieved smile before kneeling down to the floor to pick up the forgotten book. Standing up, she asked, "What's your name, honey?"

The girl was looking curiously at the book that Mary Margaret was carrying, but straightened and said, "Emma. Emma Swan."

Mary Margaret's eyes grew wide.

"Emma," She repeated. The name was a sweet taste in her mouth and she smiled. "That's a lovely name."

Emma blushed. "Thanks."

"I'm Mary Margaret," She introduced herself politely. "I teach fourth grade at the primary school next door."

She watched as Emma finally smiled and they started to walk down the hallway towards the nurse's office. Mary Margaret shifted her gaze to the girl next to her.

"What grade are you in?" She asked her, trying to make small talk.

"Eighth," Emma replied distractedly. Mary Margaret couldn't help but notice the young girl's gaze traveling to the book tucked under Mary Margaret's arm. She had to hide a chuckle at Emma's curious expression.

"Would you like to have a look at it?"

"Huh?"

Mary Margaret offered the book out to Emma.

"Oh, no, it's okay," Emma replied nervously. "It just looks kind of familiar."

Mary Margaret nodded. "I found it in my desk, though I'm not sure where it came from... It had the high school's address in it."

"That's why you were here," Emma confirmed slowly. "All because of a book."

Mary Margaret laughed softly. "Well, when you put it like that." Her tone grew slightly more serious as she went on to say, "But it was a good thing that I was here. I'm glad that I was able to help you. Bullying should not be allowed anywhere, especially not in schools."

Emma didn't respond, only crossed her arms protectively in front of her, looking uncomfortable. Mary Margaret frowned, but chose to let the subject drop.

Upon reaching the nurse's office, they could see that it was empty, the door shut, and the light turned off. Mary Margaret reached for the door handle and with a twist of the knob, it opened. Emma confidently walked in and flicked the light switch on, and Mary Margaret followed, slightly hesitant to use the room but told herself that they wouldn't be long in there. Besides, she was helping someone in need which was exactly what the nurse did.

Emma perched herself on the elevated bed while Mary Margaret placed the book on the nurse's desk and dug around for a needle and thread in the desk drawer. After successfully finding it, she placed it down and turned to face Emma. Mary Margaret shifted uncomfortably at the prospect of what she was about to ask.

"Emma, I know this may be a little uncomfortable for you," She began awkwardly. "But I need you to take your shirt off. It will be hard for me to sew it together if you're wearing it. But it's perfectly okay if you don't want to, I understand." She was quick to reassure.

Emma shook her head. "Uh, no, it's okay..." Carefully, she pulled her shirt over her head, leaving her clad in a singlet top, and she handed the shirt to Mary Margaret. Mary Margaret had to hold back tears as she saw the bruises covering Emma's upper body in light patches.

She felt so much hurt for this young girl, and she wasn't sure why. She quickly convinced herself that it was probably just the teacher inside of her. Yet, she felt a tug of something for Emma... Almost maternal... She shook her head, and placing the shirt on the desk, she grabbed a blanket from the nurse's cupboard and spread it out, wrapping it around Emma. The girl gave her a confused look.

"What's this for?" She asked slowly, slight confusion clouding her voice as she clutched at the blanket.

"So you don't get cold," Mary Margaret smiled gently. Emma's eyes began to fill with tears and she let out a small sniff.

"Oh, honey, what's wrong?" Mary Margaret rushed forward in concern. Emma shook her head and tears dripped down her face. Mary Margaret's eyebrows furrowed in sadness and confusion and she reached out to feel Emma's forehead. "Are you not feeling well?"

"No, I'm okay," Emma sniffled, leaning in to Mary Margaret's touch, but caught herself and jerked away as if burned. "I just -" She shook her head again. "It's nothing."

Mary Margaret sighed before grabbing a box of tissues and handing them to Emma. She smiled at the girl and sat down opposite her and started to sew up the still-warm shirt. The two sat in silence, but Mary Margaret could feel Emma's eyes on her.

A few minutes went by quietly and glancing up, Mary Margaret paused in her work and watched as Emma's eyes kept flicking from the tissue in her hand to the book on the desk. She smiled in adoration. Under all of that hurt that Emma was trying to hide behind tough walls was a young child who wanted to read fairytales. Picking the book up, she handed it to Emma who smiled through her remaining tears.

"It looks so familiar..." Emma explained again. She ran her fingers over the hard cover, seemingly mesmerised by it.

"Maybe you had one like it as a child?" Mary Margaret suggested, focusing back on her sewing.

Emma shrugged. "Doubt it."

"Ask your parents when you get home; they might know something about it."

"Y-yeah, sure."

Mary Margaret glanced up. "Speaking of which, will your parents worry if you get home late?"

Emma shrugged nervously. "I'm not sure."

Mary Margaret frowned, and the conversation turned serious again. "Do they know about the bullying?"

Emma hesitantly shook her head.

"Emma -"

"Look, I get it!" Emma burst out. "I should tell them about it so they can help to put a stop to it."

Mary Margaret tilted her head to the side. "So what's the problem?"

Emma seemed to shrink into herself. "Nothing," She mumbled.

Mary Margaret frowned. "Is there something wrong with telling them?" She asked, worry lacing her voice.

Emma shook her head vigorously. "No, no. I'll tell them."

Mary Margaret gazed at her for a few moments before returning back to her sewing.

"Who are your parents, by the way?" Mary Margaret asked, making conversation. "Maybe I know them."

"I don't think so. I'm living with the Black's."

"Black's? But I thought your last name was Swan?" Mary Margaret asked, confused.

"It is," Emma squirmed uncomfortably before admitting, "They're my foster parents."

Mary Margaret's eyes widened, and all she could say was a quiet, "Oh."

The room was filled with an awkward silence. Emma sighed before returning to look at the book on her lap and Mary Margaret returned to the sewing. Finishing the final stitch, she held the shirt up and announced, "It's finished!"

Emma gently closed the book and stood up to grab her shirt from Mary Margaret.

"Thank you so much," She said gratefully. She reached out her hand to take it but Mary Margaret didn't hand it to her.

"Emma," She ventured. "Where did those bruises come from?"

Emma startled and pulled her hand back before frowning, feeling panic growing in the pit of her stomach. "I'm clumsy, I always fall over -"

"I can tell that you're lying, sweetheart," Mary Margaret told her, her expression sombre. "Is someone hurting you? Do you need help?"

"No!" Emma finally snapped. "Stop asking me questions! I'm fine! I can take care of myself!"

Mary Margaret was taken aback, but decided to leave it. "Alright. I'm sorry."

Emma huffed as her cheeks starting to tint pink, seemingly embarrassed by her outburst. "It's okay," She mumbled quietly. Mary Margaret handed her shirt back and Emma slipped it on gratefully.

"Thanks again," She muttered.

Mary Margaret nodded softly. "Anytime."

With a firm nod of her head, Emma began to walk out of the nurse's office, but Mary Margaret called her back. Emma swivelled around in time to see Mary Margaret pick up the book of fairytales and hand it to her.

"Here," Mary Margaret offered with a smile.

Emma took it, a confused expression covering her features.

"The belief of the possibility of a happy ending is a very powerful thing."

Emma smiled. "Thank you. For everything."

Mary Margaret smiled, watching her go. With an unknown longing in her heart, and for a reason that she did not understand, she quietly repeated one phrase within the depths of her mind,

_"Come back to me."_


	3. My Home

**Thank you so much to all of you that reviewed! You guys make me type faster ;) And please, feel free to check out my blog on tumblr! If you have any questions about this story, I'm more than happy to answer! More info in my profile.**

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Chapter 3 - My Home

_This place is many things_

_But I can't call it home,_

_Home is the place you are,_

_And I just want to let you know_

_That I've done a few things_

_I wasn't proud of,_

_I might've said a few things that hurt you._

_And you're still the only one who fills me up,_

_And every night spent alone was worth it._

_You are my home,_

_You are my everything when I feel so alone._

_You are my home,_

_You are my shelter when all my hope is gone._

The only words running through Emma's head seemed to be curse words.

How could she have been so foolish? She almost got found out. And if her foster parents knew that she was talking to strangers about her home life...

Emma quickly walked down the street away from the high school. She glanced at her watch as she started to jog.

Oh, damn, if she didn't get there on time... Why had she stayed too long?

In light of all of that, she stopped, and almost against her will, she quickly peeked back longingly at the high school. Though she was probably insanely late, she didn't regret meeting Mary Margaret. She felt the weight of her backpack resting comfortably against her back - the book that Mary Margaret had given her firmly inside - and allowed herself a tiny smile.

There was something about her. Something lovely. Even though it had felt like they had met under the wrong circumstances, Mary Margaret felt like... Dare she say it?

Home.

"No," She spoke out loud to herself, the smile dropping from her face, and resumed jogging. How on earth could that stranger have felt like home?

She reached her house, ('castle,' She mentally corrected herself), but continued walking past it. No, she had a different destination this evening, and it wasn't her castle.

She was meeting up with her boyfriend of 5 months for a date. And if she was late... Well, she didn't want to think about that. Neal Cassidy was absolutely lovely, but was starting to grow a temper. But that was okay, because Emma loved him all the same. He cared for her, and that's all that mattered.

She finally reached his house and quickly jogged up to the door and rang the doorbell. The door yanked open immediately and he stood there with a frown on his face, tapping his foot as if he had been standing there for a long time.

"Where were you?" He grumbled as she stepped inside the house.

"Oh, uh," Emma struggled to come up with a good excuse. "At school. It ended late."

"Oh," His frown melted away upon seeing her properly, and a grin started to grow on his face. "Good thing I wasn't there then."

"Why weren't you there?" Emma asked, curiously.

"I ditched," He shrugged. "Just couldn't be bothered."

Emma laughed and he smirked, shutting the door behind them.

* * *

Mary Margaret shut the door to her apartment behind her and sighed, leaning her back against it.

Her mind was full of thoughts of one person: Emma. How could she have let the young girl go without finding out if she needed help? Though Emma had insisted that she was okay, Mary Margaret could obviously see by, not just the bruises and the bullying, but the way she broke down when Mary Margaret wrapped a blanket around her that Emma was _not_ okay. The girl seemed deprived of care and love. And no person should be in need of love.

Suddenly, the door behind her jolted as a firm few knocks landed on it, giving Mary Margaret a fright as she jumped away from it. Placing a hand over her rapidly beating heart, she twisted the doorknob and opened the door. She was immediately greeted with a charming smile.

"David!" Mary Margaret exclaimed, her voice full of surprise. "What are you doing here?"

David's smile dropped a tad, and with his tone uncertain, he reminded, "Our date? Did you forget?"

"Oh, goodness," Mary Margaret shook her head. "I didn't forget, but it slipped my mind for a bit."

"Is something wrong?" David asked, concern filling his voice as he stepped into the small apartment to gently clutch her shoulders. "You don't look well. Are you getting sick?"

Mary Margaret slipped a hand over one of his, sighing at the reminder of what had occurred earlier that afternoon. "No, I'm fine. It's just..."

David looked earnestly into her eyes, waiting for a response. She smiled and shook her head. "I'll tell you about it later. Let me just grab my coat and we can go."

David released Mary Margaret and nodded. "If you're sure."

* * *

"Are you sure?" Emma asked. Neal nodded his head.

"Yeah. I'd rather spend the time with you." He smiled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

"You are the best," Emma spoke dreamily, melting into his arms. "No one would ever stay at home with their lame girlfriend instead of going to a senior party! Why would you do that?"

"Because, I love my 'lame' girlfriend!" Neal winked, putting air quotes around the word 'lame'. "Besides, I am a senior, so there'll be other parties. And with my foster parents out, we have the house all to ourselves."

Emma grinned and Neal leaned down for a kiss, which Emma happily accepted. The kiss was slow, but then began to grow heated, and Neal slipped his hands from Emma's shoulders to her collarbone, gradually moving his fingers down towards her breasts. Emma flinched and pulled away from the kiss, scooting back a few inches from him.

"Uh," She fumbled. "What were you doing?"

"Making out with you," Neal said, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah, but, with your hands," Emma began nervously.

Neal smiled wolfishly. "We've been dating for five months now, haven't we?"

"Yeah, but -"

"So, isn't it about time that we do it?"

"What?"

"Every one of my friends has a girlfriend, and so you know what I hear in the locker room? How good sex is."

Emma's eyes widened. "Neal, I told you, I'm -"

"Not ready, I know," Neal grumbled. "But I don't want to be the only seventeen-year-old guy who hasn't done it."

"But -"

"Look, Emma," Neal began. "I love you. But if we're going to keep this relationship going, my needs are going to have to be met."

Emma frowned. "So, you're forcing me to have sex with you?"

"No way! I'm not that kind of guy!" Neal backtracked. "I just feel like I do so much for you, and all I ask for is this one little thing."

He leaned down to kiss her once more, and she kissed back hesitantly.

What was she going to do?

* * *

Mary Margaret sighed for what felt like the umpteenth time that night, and once again, stirred her soup.

"Mary Margaret," A voice called softly. She glanced up from the broth across the table to see a concerned David. Granny's was unusually empty for a Friday night, for which Mary Margaret was grateful. It meant that she and David could talk freely without disturbances.

"Are you okay?" David's voice brought her back to the present.

Mary Margaret nodded, but then shook her head.

"No. I'm sorry. I'm ruining our date."

"No, no, you're not," David was quick to reassure. He reached across the table for her hand and she placed her hand into his. "Tell me what's on your mind?"

Mary Margaret grasped his hand, and after giving David a grateful smile, relayed the events of that afternoon.

As soon as she had finished, David nodded.

"I understand," He said, squeezing her hand. "You feel protective of her."

"But, why?" Mary Margaret asked. "I'm the one who doesn't understand. I just met Emma today."

David shrugged. "Maybe it's the teacher in you."

Mary Margaret felt a smile growing. They really were more alike than she thought.

"You know, she has your forehead," Mary Margaret spoke up.

David laughed. "What?"

"Uh," Mary Margaret frowned. Why had she said that? "I mean, maybe she reminds me of you."

David nodded, still chuckling. "Sure."

* * *

Emma hated this.

She hated this feeling of being out of control.

They had moved to Neal's bed and he was on top of her. Kissing her. She didn't mind the kissing, but she felt trapped.

She wanted to cry, but then Neal might get upset with her.

She wanted out.

"Neal," Emma pushed him away. "I can't."

"Why not?" Neal's eyes were dark with what Emma assumed was lust.

"I... I just can't."

"Emma -"

"I can't -"

He leaned back down to kiss her, silencing her.

She didn't speak up again.

* * *

"Thank you for tonight, David," Mary Margaret said, clutching David's arm as they walked from his car to her apartment.

"It was my honour," David smiled chivalrously. "I'd do anything for a lovely lady such as yourself."

"Anything?" Mary Margaret's eyes twinkled, a hint of mischief underneath the shyness.

"Anything." His tone grew serious. They stopped by Mary Margaret's front door. Mary Margaret leaned up to kiss him goodbye and with a soft, "Goodnight," he was gone.

Mary Margaret still smiling, opened her front door and stepped inside. But as soon as she had placed her handbag down on the kitchen table, she felt a twinge of pain coming from her chest, and it began to grow, rapidly and painfully, until she was clutching her chest, her eyes wide and her mouth open in a silent scream.

She wanted to call for David, but it felt like all limbs had frozen and she couldn't move.

* * *

It hurt.

It hurt, and it was unbearable.

It was nothing like romance novels - like nothing she had ever experienced.

Emma could only lie there on Neal's bed, unable to do anything about the situation. She could only wait it out as Neal had his way with her. He didn't even seem to be aware of her pain.

It seemed to last forever, but finally it was over and Neal climbed off her. Sitting back on the bed, he gazed at Emma's glassy eyes and upon hearing her ragged breathing, he frowned. He finally asked, "Are you okay?"

Emma shook her head. "No," She could only gasp out, and upon realisation of what had just happened, she curled up on his bed and began to cry, Neal watching helplessly.

Emma wanted someone who wouldn't hurt her in her life, and here was the one person she thought she could count on forever, and he had hurt her. And that thought made her sob even harder.

* * *

As quickly as the pain had come, it had left, and Mary Margaret was left gasping for air.

What on earth was that?

She stood there for a minute, slowly recovering, catching her breath, before carefully walking to the sink. She grabbed a glass from the cabinet to fill up with water and slowly sipped from it, trying to calm her racing heart.

"What was that?" She murmured to herself as she sat down at the table, wary of the fact that the pain could come back. She decided to go to the doctor tomorrow.

The doctor. The thought of a doctor brought the memory of the nurse's office back to mind.

Mary Margaret placed a hand to her head, trying to suppress the strong, painful feelings that were suddenly coming from deep within her at the thought and memory of the young girl.

Emma.

Emma - who seemed to be in so much pain - probably a more terrible pain than what Mary Margaret had just experienced. And that made Mary Margaret's heart clench.

"I'm going to find you, Emma," She vowed out loud. "And I will help you."

* * *

Emma slowly hobbled out of Neal's house, feeling more alone than ever. The sky was dark, the moon covered with clouds as she slowly made her way down the path to her house.

Emma couldn't get the memory of what had just happened with Neal out of her head. She couldn't help the small sob that escaped from her lips, and tears dripped down her cheeks, landing on the concrete below. Everything ached, and she gasped in pain at every step she took.

How was she supposed to stay quiet and out of the way at her house when her foster parents listened out for her every move? She would have to sneak in and go straight to bed so they wouldn't suspect anything. What she would have given to go back in time to that moment in the nurse's office. With Mary Margaret.

Mary Margaret.

She couldn't help but cry harder at the memory of that loving warmth coming from the woman.

She wanted Mary Margaret, or someone as kind as Mary Margaret, to help her right now.

She just wanted a home.


	4. Eyes Open

**Thank you all so much for your patience and reviews! I promise, all of your questions will be answered in upcoming chapters! Without further ado, here's chapter 4!**

* * *

Chapter 4 - Eyes Open

_So, here you are,_

_Two steps ahead,_

_And staying on-guard,_

_Every lesson forms a new scar,_

_They never thought you'd make it this far._

_But turn around while they've surrounded you,_

_It's a showdown,_

_And nobody comes to save you now._

_But you've got something they don't,_

_Yeah, you've got something they don't -_

_You've just gotta keep your eyes open._

The weekend went by far too quickly for Mary Margaret. Monday morning seemed to arrive without a warning, and before she knew it, she was running late for work. She quickly placed her cereal bowl in the sink, brushed her teeth and began the drive to school.

On Saturday, she had visited the doctor, which turned out to be none other than Doctor Whale. After he had spotted her sitting in the waiting room, he had called her into the doctor's room and then proceeded with no hesitation whatsoever to ask her out. Mary Margaret had been taken aback of course. They had only ever had one date and that was well before David. Mary Margaret had to reject his offer and thoroughly insist that she was quite taken and very happy with her relationship with David, and Doctor Whale begrudgingly went on to run a few tests for her heart. He had returned with the results in what felt like moments later with the conclusion that the heart pain was due to stress, but it was perfectly normal. Mary Margaret had furrowed her brow at that.

"Perfectly normal?" She had asked, warily.

Doctor Whale had nodded. "Perfectly normal. Especially for teachers at this time of year. Exams, assessments - busy time for teachers. Just make sure to keep well-rested and stay hydrated."

Mary Margaret shook her head, returning back to the present and focusing back on the road. She spotted the school bus ahead, and slowed her car down, watching as it pulled up at the kerb and children began to climb on. She grimaced, and noted that she was rather late to work if the bus was already there, picking up children. It started to pull away from the kerb and Mary Margaret maintained a safe distance from it.

Suddenly, a flash of blonde whizzed past her car and Mary Margaret slammed on her brakes, coming to a full stop in the road. She swivelled her head to the side so fast that her hair landed in her eyes and she frustratedly flicked the short locks away from her face. She immediately caught sight of the young girl that had filled her thoughts for the entire weekend - Emma. Her heart leapt into her throat.

The young girl was racing towards the departing school bus, hopefully trying to catch up to it before it took off, but to no avail. It barrelled down the road, towards the school, leaving Emma to stand there and watch it travel away. Mary Margaret frowned, watching Emma's entire body sink in disappointment. The school was still a fair walking distance away, she mused, sadly. There was no way she would let Emma walk and be late for school; especially in the rapidly cooling weather. Determinedly clutching the steering wheel, she drove her car to the side of the road beside Emma and rolled down the window.

"Hey," Mary Margaret called gently, leaning towards the open window.

Emma snapped her head towards the car, looking startled.

"You okay?" Mary Margaret asked.

"Yeah," Emma nodded. "Hi."

"Hi," Mary Margaret smiled, and then offered, "Would you like a lift to school?"

"Oh, uh," Emma's eyes widened. "I don't want to put you out -"

"Oh, no, you're not," Mary Margaret assured. "I work at the primary school, remember?"

Emma nodded. "I remember," then, "Are you sure?"

"Of course!"

Emma hesitantly opened the car door and slipped inside. "Thanks."

Once Emma was seated and her seatbelt done up, Mary Margaret pulled away from the kerb and resumed the drive.

Eyes on the road, she asked politely, "How are you, Emma?"

Mary Margaret heard a rustle, which she assumed was Emma shrugging. "Okay, I guess."

"That's good."

The car was then silent. Mary Margaret spared a quick glance towards Emma, who was twiddling her thumbs and looking rather awkward.

Mary Margaret cleared her throat, trying to fill the silence, and asked, "How was your weekend?"

"It was fine," Emma shrugged again. "Not much happened."

Mary Margaret nodded. "Sometimes quiet weekends are just what we need."

It was quiet for a moment, before a soft, "What about you?" was spoken, and Mary Margaret glanced over to Emma to see her looking shyly down at her lap.

"My weekend was lovely, thank you," Mary Margaret smiled, trying to help Emma to feel comfortable with her. "I spent Friday night with David, my boyfriend."

"David?"

"David Nolan."

"David Nolan? As in, the _coma patient_, David Nolan? The one who only woke up about a few months ago?" Emma gasped.

Mary Margaret laughed in amusement. "Yes, that's the one."

"Wasn't he in a coma for 10 years, or something?"

Mary Margaret's smile melted into a frown as she searched through her memory. "I'm not sure how long it was. I know that he was in a coma for a long time, but..." She trailed off. For the life of her, she could not remember how long it had been. It had honestly felt like it had been for the length of her whole life.

"If I was in a coma for 10 years," Emma continued, unaware of Mary Margaret's inner musings. "I would hate to wake up and not know what I've missed. The whole world could have turned upside down, and you would have no idea."

Mary Margaret nodded. "Indeed."

The car was quiet once more, but this time, Mary Margaret could feel Emma staring at her.

"What is it?" She asked, briefly glancing over to Emma. Emma blushed and faced the front.

"No, it's nothing," Emma mumbled.

"You know," Mary Margaret began after a moment's pause, unsure if she should speak her mind or not, but decided to say it. "I thought about you a lot this weekend."

Mary Margaret felt Emma's gaze back on her. "You did?"

She nodded. The high school came into view, and she drove up to it as she explained, "I felt really worried. Especially about your bruises."

"Oh. Don't worry. I'm fine, I'm just really clumsy," Emma bit her lip nervously as Mary Margaret glanced at her once more, unsure of Emma's answer.

"If you're sure, sweetheart."

Mary Margaret pulled the car up to the kerb beside the high school and parked the car.

Emma smiled politely at Mary Margaret. "Thank you for the lift. I feel like you've been saving my ass- uh, I mean, butt - lately."

Mary Margaret almost chuckled at Emma's slip-up, but held it in. "My pleasure."

And before Emma could open the car door, Mary Margaret asked, "Do you have a piece of paper and a pen?"

Emma hesitantly pulled out a school notebook from her school bag and handed it to Mary Margaret. Mary Margaret smiled at Emma, and quickly scribbled down her name, phone number and address on the piece of paper.

At Emma's confused expression when the paper and pen were given back to her, Mary Margaret explained, "If you ever need me."

Emma nodded.

"I mean it," Mary Margaret pressed, sensing Emma's hesitation. "If you need _anything_. Call me, visit me. I don't mind."

"Anything?" Emma's voice was quiet, uncertainty filling her tone, and Mary Margaret nodded.

"Anything."

With a last, grateful smile, Emma climbed out of the car and headed into the school. Mary Margaret watched until Emma disappeared amongst the crowd of high school students. She sighed and pulled away from the kerb, heading towards the primary school.

* * *

The morning went by slowly for Emma. Each minute felt like a minute wasted, though Emma didn't know what it was being wasted on. All she knew was that she wished that she could ring that number on the piece of paper and talk to Mary Margaret. But she knew that was silly; she had just spoken to her. And there was no real reason to call her. Yet, Mary Margaret's previous words rang through her head: 'If you need anything...'

Emma sighed quietly at the memory and then focused back on the teacher at the front. She tried to pay attention to her math class - it wasn't that she didn't understand the material; she did - but thoughts of the kind young woman kept filtering through her brain.

When Mary Margaret had told her that she had thought of Emma during the weekend, Emma had wanted to tell Mary Margaret how much she had thought of her - how she wanted Mary Margaret to come and save her from her foster parents, from Neal, from her rotten life. Her stubborn pride had gotten in the way however, and all she could focus on was how Mary Margaret had told her that she could call her for 'anything'. Emma rubbed her face wearily, suddenly feeling a lot older than 14.

The bell finally rang, and Emma stood up along with the other students, eager to leave. As she left the classroom into the rapidly emptying hallway, she noticed a bunch of students hanging around the area near her locker. She swallowed anxiously. It was the seniors that had bullied her last Friday.

Squaring her shoulders, she walked confidently towards them. She intended to just ignore them, put her books into her locker, and head over to the cafeteria for lunch, but her plan evaporated from her mind when the same lead senior of the group approached her.

"Hey, Swan," He greeted. He almost sounded polite if it weren't for the smug smirk pasted on his face. Emma ignored him and opened her locker, placing her books inside.

"Swan."

Emma refused to look at him. She shut her locker door with a slam and attempted to walk past the group of seniors, but the lead senior grabbed her arm.

"What's your hurry? We just want to talk to you," He said with a smile and the other seniors hurried to nod their agreements.

Emma sharply wrenched her arm away from his grip. "I don't want to talk to any of you."

"Oh, it won't take long," He promised.

"What is it?" She snapped.

He crossed his arms, leaned forward and said, "Who was that lady?"

"What 'lady'?" Emma replied irritably, though inside, she felt her stomach start to jitter with nerves.

"You know who I mean," He began, a cruel smile showing on his face. "The one who showed up on Friday."

Mary Margaret? Emma felt her heart pound against her ribcage.

"I-I don't know who she was," She stuttered. She didn't want these seniors to know about Mary Margaret.

"Well, the stupid bitch interrupted our fun!" His voice rose suddenly and some of the seniors voiced their agreements to that statement.

Emma ground her teeth and felt her hands clench into fists. How dare they refer to Mary Margaret like that?

Noticing Emma's reaction, the lead senior leaned in closer to her - so close that Emma could smell the strong scent of his aftershave - and smirked. She nearly gagged and tried to step back, but he grabbed her arm again.

Suddenly, everything felt uncomfortably hot. He was too close. She needed out.

Furiously pushing him away, she stepped back a few steps and gasped a few times, taking in as much air as possible.

"Stay away!" Emma cried. The senior stepped forward again.

"Or what?" He sneered. "Your precious Mommy will come back in to save you like last time? Well, guess what?" He turned to look at the other seniors, as if to gather them all to listen.

With all of them paying closer attention, he turned around to face Emma again, and loudly declared, "That stupid bitch is never coming to help you. And you know why?" He leaned in, and as if telling her a very important secret, he whispered, "Because she never loved you."

The words struck Emma in the heart like a hot iron, and she felt white, hot rage fill her, blinding her senses. She didn't know whether the senior was talking about Mary Margaret or her real mother, but at that point she didn't care. She lost it. Drawing her fist back, she punched him square in the face, and he stumbled back a few steps with a pained yell. Still utterly filled to the brim with anger at his bullying, tears began to fill Emma's eyes, and she let out a scream, full of rage as she ran forward, blindly throwing punches at him.

"Stop! Stop, you little bitch!" The senior howled, easily dodging her fists now that he was prepared. He held one hand over his bleeding nose, trying to stem the blood flow.

"What the hell is going on here?!"

They all froze, and turned around to come face-to-face with the principal of the school.

Crap. This did not look good for Emma.

The principal stormed forward.

"Miss Swan! What in the world is going on?"

Emma opened her mouth to answer, but was beaten to the punch, so to speak, by the senior.

"We came over to talk to her, and she just started hitting me!" He exclaimed, indicating his bleeding nose. The seniors behind him all nodded to affirm his statement.

"Is this true?" The principal turned to Emma sharply. Emma shook her head.

"No! He was -"

"I'm going to have to call your parents in to discuss this matter," The principal interrupted.

Emma's stomach twisted in panic. "No!"

"I'm sorry, Miss Swan. But rules are rules." The principal stated grimly. He frowned as he saw the senior's bloody nose. "Go to the nurse's office, boy. You're dripping blood everywhere."

"Yes, sir," The senior smiled gratefully at the principal, and shot a quick gleeful look at Emma as he and the other seniors departed.

"Come with me, Miss Swan."

Emma swivelled around to find the principal walking down the hallway.

"Um, sir? You can't call my parents. My parents are, uh," Emma stumbled, running to try to catch up with the man. She desperately tried to come up with an excuse. There was no way her foster parents would forgive this kind of behaviour. "My parents are..."

"Your parents are what?" The principal asked impatiently. They had reached his office in what felt like seconds, and Emma knew that she had to come up with something quickly. No way in hell were her foster parents finding out about this.

Swallowing her nerves, she lied through her teeth, "My parents are out of town."

"Oh?" The principal raised his eyebrows. "Is that so?"

"Uh, yeah," Emma nodded.

"Well, I'll just have to call them wherever they are."

"No!" Emma cried. She quickly bluffed, "I'm staying with someone while my parents are away, can't you talk to them instead?"

The principal frowned, but then nodded.

"All right," He agreed after a moment's pause. "Who are you staying with?"

Emma's eyes widened. She hadn't expected him to agree so quickly. Racking her brain to try and think of an answer, she subconsciously shoved her hands into her pockets and her fingers brushed against something in the left side. She pulled the piece of paper out of her pocket. It was the note with the phone number on it. Her eyes widened as she saw the name at the top of it. Smiling slightly, she raised her face, looked confidently into the principal's face and declared,

"I'm staying with Mary Margaret Blanchard."


	5. Waiting For The End

**Thank you so much for reviewing! Also, if you're really interested in this story and can't wait for updates, in-between chapter uploads I have been posting sneak peeks for this story to my tumblr! Link is in profile. Again, feel free to ask any questions there! Enjoy the chapter.**

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Chapter 5 - Waiting For The End

_Waiting for the end to come -_

_Wishing I had strength to stand._

_This is not what I had planned._

_It's out of my control._

_Flying at the speed of light -_

_Thoughts were spinning in my head._

_So many things were left unsaid -_

_It's hard to let you go._

_I know what it takes to move on,_

_I know how it feels to lie._

_All I want to do is trade this life for something new -_

_Holding on to what I haven't got._

"Remember, what you're making is a home... This is for them, not us."

Mary Margaret's class were once again enraptured by her teaching. She smiled, and turned to free the blue bird out of the window. The air outside was cool, but the bird flew from her hand to the frost-covered tree branch with little hesitation.

She turned back around to face the young, awe-filled faces.

"If you love them and they love you," Mary Margaret began bittersweetly. "They will always find -"

A loud buzzing noise rang out, interrupting her. The students whipped their heads to the front of the classroom, to where the noise was coming from. Mary Margaret frowned, heading to her desk. It was her mobile phone. Her heart pounded.

Suddenly, the bell rang, and all of her students jumped up, leaving for lunch.

"Uh," Mary Margaret stuttered, and then found her voice, calling to the departing students, "No running!"

Looking down, she quickly answered her phone with a soft, "Hello?"

"Yes, hello," a male voice answered, one she did not recognise. She furrowed her brow. "Is this Mary Margaret Blanchard?"

"Yes," She said slowly. "Can I ask who this is?"

"This is the principal of Storybrooke High School."

Mary Margaret furrowed her brow. Why would he be calling here? Unless -

"It's about Emma Swan," He went on to say, interrupting her thoughts. Mary Margaret clutched the phone tighter. "I understand that she is staying with you while her parents are out of town."

"What? Oh- well..." Mary Margaret stuttered uneasily, feeling caught off-guard. Should she lie and agree? What if Emma was in trouble?

"She seems to have gotten into a fight with another student," The Principal continued, unaware of Mary Margaret's internal war. "If it's possible, would you mind coming down to my office as soon as possible to discuss this matter?"

Mary Margaret nodded, even though she knew that he couldn't see her. She wanted to use this opportunity to see Emma, to help her - even if it was through a lie.

"Yes, of course," Mary Margaret replied hastily. "I'll be there in about ten minutes."

They each hung up and Mary Margaret frowned. Why _had_ Emma lied about where she was living? Shouldn't Emma's parents go in? And Emma was fighting? Emma didn't seem like the fighting type. Clutching her handbag, she left the classroom and went to the primary school office, requesting a substitute teacher for her class for the afternoon. Then she headed over to the High School next door.

Upon reaching it, Mary Margaret could see that the hallways were littered with students. It appeared that it was still lunch time. A group of students politely guided her to the Principal's office when she asked them for directions, and she walked up to the hard wooden door, labelled 'Principal'. Taking a deep breath, she softly knocked on it twice, and then pushed it open.

The first thing she saw was the burly, grey-haired man, sitting at the desk.

"Ah, Miss Blanchard. Please take a seat." He gestured towards the two seats across from his desk. And that's when she saw Emma. She was sitting pitifully in the tall wooden chair, clutching a bruised, swollen hand to her chest. Mary Margaret dropped in the seat beside here.

"Are you alright, sweetheart?" She asked, carefully placing a warm hand on Emma's upper back. Emma nodded, glancing into Mary Margaret's face, but then dropping her gaze to her hand once more.

"Ahem."

They both looked up. The Principal was looking at them, a slight frown on his face.

"Shall we begin?"

* * *

To her amazement, Emma got off punishment-free with only a warning. The senior that she had hit didn't get any punishment either, but Emma suspected that the Principal thought that the senior was the innocent victim in all of this. Emma didn't really want to tell the Principal that he had been saying horrible things about her birth mother and Mary Margaret in front of the woman herself. By the time she stepped out of the Principal's office, Mary Margaret close behind her, lunch was over and the hallways were now deserted. Students and teachers were back in classrooms, learning and teaching, respectively. Once the door to the Principal's office closed behind them, Emma sighed in relief and turned to Mary Margaret.

"Thank you," She breathed. "I didn't know if you were gonna come or not."

"Where are your parents?" Mary Margaret asked not unkindly, but firmly, ignoring Emma's thank you. "I need some answers. I'm happy to help you, but lying is out of the question."

Emma hung her head. "I couldn't let my foster parents find out that I hit someone," She admitted in a whisper.

"Why is that?"

_'They'll hit me twice as hard as punishment.'_

"I... Uh..." Emma panicked. She definitely couldn't tell Mary Margaret that, and struggled to think of an excuse. "I... Uh- it's complicated... They- Um..."

Mary Margaret sighed. "It's okay. But, please, Emma." She reached out to gently clutch Emma's arms. "_Please_ know that I'm trying to help you. In any way that I can. But no more lying, okay?"

Emma nodded slowly. "I know." She swallowed and carefully pulled out of Mary Margaret's warm grasp. She couldn't get vulnerable. Everyone always let her down. Mary Margaret would end up hurting her too.

Mary Margaret looked disappointed as Emma pulled away from her but brightened suddenly, and said, "I'll make a deal with you."

"What?" Emma asked, surprised.

"I won't tell your parents about this - or tell the school that you're not really staying with me - if -" Mary Margaret started to propose, a smile on her face. Emma felt her chest tighten in anticipation. What was she going to make her do? Something horrible? "- if you come over to visit me tonight."

"What? To your place? Huh?" Emma stumbled over her words in confusion. She reached up to rub the back of her neck, feeling slightly dazed. She didn't have to do something horrible? It would actually be...nice?

Mary Margaret nodded. "Oh, that is, if you're not busy. I just thought that it'd be nice to get to know each other," She explained quickly.

"No, I - I think I'd like that," Emma admitted softly in what felt like relief. She felt herself relax and she smiled at Mary Margaret. "Thanks."

Mary Margaret smiled, looking a little pleased. "Okay."


	6. Those Nights

**Thank you for the crazy response I got for the last chapter! Made my week a happy one :)**

**Dedicated to a certain anon reviewer who wanted a new chapter for the Fourth of July (Even though I don't live in America ;))**

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Chapter 6 - Those Nights

_Remember when we'd_

_Stay up late and we'd talk all night_

_In a dark room lit by the TV light._

_Through all the hard times in my life,_

_Those nights kept me alive._

_We'd listen to the radio play all night,_

_Didn't wanna go home to another fight._

_Through all the hard times in my life,_

_Those nights kept me alive._

After leaving Mary Margaret, Emma had returned back to class. She was keen to see Mary Margaret again tonight, and silently willed the lesson to go faster.

Unfortunately for her, the trip to the Principal's office had cost her lunchtime and her stomach growled quietly. She quickly cupped it; another reason she wished time would hurry up. Fortunately, she only had an hour left until school was over and she could leave.

After Mary Margaret had made sure that she still had the note with her address on it, she had told Emma to come visit any time in the afternoon or evening. Emma had tried to hold in the eagerness in her voice when she said that she'd come an hour after school finished. It would be a perfect excuse to stay away from her castle for a few hours. All she had to do was sneak into her house - while hopefully avoiding her foster parents - and clean her hand up first. It looked a mess - all swollen and a large, black bruise forming - and Emma grimaced. It was throbbing like a bitch.

The bell rang soon after and Emma left class and raced to her locker to drop off her textbooks. She spotted a group of seniors ahead and she instinctively flinched. They weren't looking at her, however. They were gathered around together in a large group, surrounding something. One of them moved out of the way and Emma caught sight of the lead senior, whom she had punched. He was sitting in a chair, looking miserable as hell while the other seniors patted him on the back, giving him encouragements. Emma smirked in satisfaction at his swollen, bruised nose. Before he could see her victorious face though, she quickly scampered down the hallway, leaving school for the day.

The air outside was cool, and Emma dug her hands into her jean pockets, wary of her swollen hand. The note was still snugly sitting there, and Emma felt a wave of joy fill her and she enjoyed the feeling for a moment, before attempting to quell it. She couldn't be too eager to trust Mary Margaret. She couldn't let her in. Yet, whenever she was with the woman…Emma wanted to tell her everything.

Emma reached her foster parents' house and stopped in front of the front door. She gently placed an ear to it and listened.

Silence.

She took a deep breath and pulled the door open, and stepped inside. No one in sight. Her foster parents must be out. She silently cheered, and ran to the bathroom, backpack still on her back.

Running her hand under the cool water in the sink, she managed to get the painful throbbing to lessen and she sighed in relief. She turned the tap off after a few minutes, carefully dried her hand with a hand towel and left the bathroom. Glancing at the clock in the hallway, she decided to start the walk to Mary Margaret's apartment. It was about half an hour from the time Emma had said that she'd be there, but it would probably take her that time to walk there.

Emma headed towards the front door, feeling reassured that she'd made it without running into one of her foster parents, until suddenly she rammed into something.

Or rather, someone.

She gasped and jumped back. To her horror, it was her foster father. He was towering over her as usual and he was swaying slightly.

"Where the hell are you going?" He slurred. Emma could clearly see that he was drunk once again, beer bottle in his chubby hand. Yet, he still sounded about as angry as always. Emma stepped back.

"Group assignment at a friend's house," Emma said shakily, gulping nervously.

Her foster father shook his head, leaning to the side, and for a moment Emma thought he would tip over.

"No way in hell. You're not going anywhere." Even when he was drunk, he still held a level of hostile authority in his voice that made Emma's knees quiver.

"But I have to," Emma replied weakly. Suddenly a fist clumsily dove towards her face and she quickly ducked, but to no avail. She felt his fist connect hard with her forehead and she fell backwards, hitting the floor. Her backpack cushioned the fall and she quickly scrambled backwards, reeling in shock and terror.

"How dare you talk back to me, you little shit?!" He roared. "You _will_ do as I say!"

Emma rolled out of the way as his fist tore towards her again, and he made impact with the tiles of the floor. He let out a wild, pained howl and grasped his hand to his fat chest. Emma used this moment to jump up and tear open the front door, bolting out of the house as fast as she could. She could hear his screams of, "I'll get you! I'll get you; just you wait!" as she ran.

Emma gasped painfully, her feet slapping the ground, backpack bouncing against her back with each step as she ran. Her hand and now her forehead _throbbed_ and she glanced back to make sure that her foster father wasn't following her. When she was sure he wasn't, she stopped a good distance away from her house and leaned against a wall near a shop front, breathing raggedly. Emma swore between her gasps and let out a quiet sob. She pressed a hand to her mouth instinctively and tried to stop the tears. After a few moments, she forced herself to hold her emotions back. She straightened her back out, squaring her shoulders and swallowed the lump in her throat.

She'd be fine.

She'd be fine.

She had to be.

Repeating those words to herself like a mantra, Emma resumed the walk to Mary Margaret's apartment. She took deep breaths to continue to calm herself.

Soon she'd see Mary Margaret.

Soon she'd feel at home.

* * *

Emma walked up to Mary Margaret's front door, feeling calmer than before, but still shaky from the run-in with her foster father. She ignored the pain in her hand and head, and silently prayed that there was no bruise on her forehead just yet. She forced herself to relax and raised her hand to knock three times on the hard wood. She waited.

A voice called, "I'm coming!" before the door pulled open a few seconds later. Mary Margaret was standing there, a warm smile on her face upon seeing Emma.

"Hi," Emma said weakly, feeling nervous.

"Hi," Mary Margaret's eyes twinkled and Emma had to duck her head in order to avoid looking into Mary Margaret's loving gaze. Mary Margaret couldn't possibly be feeling those emotions for Emma. Could she?

She heard a gasp and she glanced up. Mary Margaret was still looking at her, but this time a hand covered her mouth, her eyes widened in shock.

"What happened?" Mary Margaret asked, rushing forward and lightly cupping Emma's face. Emma flinched instinctively at the contact but relaxed after a few seconds, relishing the feeling of the warmth from Mary Margaret's hands on her cool face. Suddenly, it dawned on her that Mary Margaret was talking about her forehead and she reached up to touch it. There was a large bump growing already and it was wet. She quickly pulled her hand back to look at it and could see that it had blood on it. Damn it. She forgot that her foster father wore a ring. It must have scratched her and she didn't even feel it. She was probably too in shock to notice.

"What happened?" Mary Margaret asked again, concern clear in her voice. She pulled her hands back and crossed her arms, pulling her cardigan with them.

"I, uh, fell," Emma explained lamely. Mary Margaret frowned.

"You fell? This doesn't look like a graze."

"Yeah. It all happened so fast." Emma nodded, unable to look Mary Margaret in the eye. Hadn't Mary Margaret told her earlier today to not lie?

"Well, come inside," Mary Margaret gestured, interrupting Emma's thoughts. If she knew that Emma was lying, she didn't say anything. Emma stepped into the warm apartment, slipping off her boots and placing her backpack on the floor by the door. "We should probably clean that cut up."

"Oh, uh, thanks."

Emma sat down at the kitchen table at Mary Margaret's command as Mary Margaret raced into another room - presumably the bathroom - and Emma looked around. The apartment was small, and had a warm, lovely atmosphere to it. Emma sighed. She tried to imagine living here, to be able to walk in the front door, calling "I'm home!", but couldn't. She didn't deserve to live in such a nice place.

Mary Margaret came of the room moments later holding a white plastic box. She placed the box on the kitchen table next to Emma, and Emma could now clearly read the 'first-aid' sign on its front. Mary Margaret pulled out a packet of alcohol wipes from the box. Emma turned herself to the side and Mary Margaret knelt down in front of her, opening the packet and taking an alcohol wipe out.

"Sorry, this may sting a little," Mary Margaret apologised before reaching up and gently dabbing the cut. The alcohol didn't just sting; it freaking _burned_.

"Crap!" Emma hissed, yanking back.

"I'm sorry!" Mary Margaret hurriedly apologised. She lowered her hand away from Emma's forehead, and Emma immediately felt guilty.

"No, it's okay, keep going," She mumbled, leaning forward again. "I'll just clench my teeth or something."

Mary Margaret hesitated before raising her arm again to wipe the cut and Emma drew in a sharp breath and steeled herself, closing her eyes tightly.

"How about you listen to my voice, okay?" Mary Margaret's voice came out soothingly. Emma opened her eyes in time to see Mary Margaret place a hand on her knee. "Just listen to me. It's a lot better than clenching your teeth and it will distract you from the pain."

Emma nodded, and Mary Margaret began to weave a tale of a princess who was sent out of her castle to be killed by a huntsman, but was mercifully saved. Emma thought that the story sounded suspiciously like Snow White, but held her tongue, too enraptured by Mary Margaret's voice. She barely felt the pain of the alcohol wipes and only realised that Mary Margaret had finished cleaning the cut when she felt the woman smooth out a small band-aid onto her forehead. She reached up to touch it.

"Thanks," Emma said gratefully. "I didn't realise that it was so bad."

"It's not a deep cut, but they can get infected," Mary Margaret reassured. "Yours shouldn't though. Now, let's take a look at that hand of yours, huh?" She rested her hand on Emma's knee, palm up.

"What?" Emma looked down to see that her hand was now a darker shade than before. The bruises had spread from her knuckles to the back of her hand and to the base of her fingers, and Emma winced as she gently placed it into Mary Margaret's hand. "Whoa. It looks like crap." Her eyes widened. "Sorry! I don't mean to keep swearing!"

Mary Margaret smiled, and Emma caught a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. "Punching someone may not have been your brightest idea. And we are going to have to work on your language, Miss Emma!" Mary Margaret lightly chided, chuckling and Emma smiled weakly, her cheeks staining red in embarrassment.

This was going to be an interesting evening.

* * *

Once Mary Margaret had bandaged Emma's hand, and given her an ice-pack for the bump on her forehead, she set to making hot chocolate for them. She placed a mug in front of Emma and she cautiously sipped from it, testing the heat. There was a certain flavour to it and Emma frowned slightly.

"Cinnamon?" Emma asked after a moment, recognising the taste. Mary Margaret startled, placing her own mug down.

"Oh, I'm so sorry; it's a little quirk of mine. Do you mind? I can get you a new one," Mary Margaret asked, sounding slightly guilty again.

"No, it's fine," Emma reassured quickly. "I like mine with cinnamon too."

Mary Margaret tilted her head to the side as she sat opposite Emma at the kitchen table. "Really? The only other person I know that likes his hot chocolate like this is David."

"Mr. Coma Patient?"

Mary Margaret laughed. Emma grinned and took another sip, Mary Margaret doing the same.

"What's he like?" Emma asked after a moment. "David, I mean."

Mary Margaret smiled, a dreamy look coming over her face as she clasped her fingers together around the blue mug. "David is... Well, amazing, for a lack of a better word. He's always polite, and is so lovely to everyone. He's just...really kind."

Emma smiled. "He sounds charming."

Mary Margaret froze. "What?" She asked after a second.

"Oh, you know. He just sounds so perfect," Emma replied. Mary Margaret felt thrown off. That word...Charming? It felt kind of significant...

"I'm kind of jealous actually." Emma's voice brought her out of her trance. Mary Margaret shook her head, snapping herself out of her thoughts and focused back in on Emma.

"Why's that?"

"Just... You look happy, I guess," Emma stated, looking slightly bittersweet.

Mary Margaret nodded, and then hesitantly asked, "Tell me about your parents?"

Emma's felt a shiver of fear run up her spine and hoped it didn't show on her face. The light mood evaporated into panic, and she scratched her arm nervously. "Um. My foster parents?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Well, uh. They're...okay, I guess."

"Did you tell them that you were coming here to visit?" Mary Margaret pressed.

Emma swallowed. "No, I didn't see them before I came here."

"Will they worry?"

Emma shook her head. "I don't think so." She worried that Mary Margaret would continue to ask her more questions about her foster parents but the woman simply nodded and took another sip of her hot chocolate. Emma copied her.

"Have you read the book yet?" Mary Margaret asked suddenly. "The fairytales?"

Emma nodded, shoulders relaxing in relief at the change of topic. "Yeah. I read a few chapters. They're nothing like the fairytales you'd remember though."

Mary Margaret tilted her head. "How so?"

Emma smirked and took a quick sip from her half-empty mug. "Snow White and Prince Charming meet when Snow steals his mother's ring from him. Then she hits him in the face with a rock."

Mary Margaret's eyes widened in shock and Emma laughed at her expression.

"I think that's the worst of it though," Emma reassured after a moment of chuckling.

"Do they fall in love? Do they fall in love and get their happy ending?" Mary Margaret asked, eyes still wide.

Emma shrugged. "I haven't gotten that far, but I'll let you know."

Mary Margaret nodded, leaning back in her chair.

"Was Snow White your favourite fairytale character?" Emma asked, curious at Mary Margaret's interest in the story. "The story you told me before sounded like it."

Mary Margaret nodded again. "Yes. I used to love reading it as a child, but to be honest, I used to cry every time I read it."

Emma raised her eyebrows. "Why?"

"Snow White's mother dies, her father is killed by her evil stepmother, she is sent out of her home to be killed by a huntsman, and just when she thinks she has found her family with the dwarves, she is poisoned and dies," Mary Margaret expressed glumly.

Emma grimaced. "When you put it that way, it does sound like she had a crappy life." Suddenly, her eyes widened and she quickly slammed a hand to her mouth. "Sorry!"

Mary Margaret raised her eyebrows. "Why do you feel like you can't swear in front of me?" She asked gently.

Emma lowered her hand and placed it onto the table. "I just... don't want you getting a bad image of me."

Mary Margaret smiled. "Oh, Emma, I don't think I could ever think badly of you. I think you're a lovely girl."

Emma blushed, bowing her head slightly. "Thanks."

Mary Margaret nodded. She leaned forward and hesitantly asked, "Can I ask you something?" At Emma's wary nod, she continued, "What really happened today? I don't really think that you're the sort of girl to hit people for no reason."

Emma studied the purple mug in front of her. She didn't risk looking into Mary Margaret's eyes in fear that she might start crying or something weak like that. She shook her head and stated as emotionlessly as she could, "They were insulting my birth mother." Mary Margaret gasped. Emma felt her heart clench, and for some reason, she blurted out, "And you. They were insulting you."

"Emma..."

"I don't know my birth mother. For all I know, she's probably a sleazy alcoholic who left me on the side of a road when I was just a baby. But..." Emma closed her eyes. "I can't help feeling angry when they insulted her. I know it's probably stupid. They're right. She didn't even love me."

A hand grabbed hers. Emma opened her eyes to see that Mary Margaret was clutching her uninjured hand tightly, tears filling her green irises. Emma tried to swallow the lump in her throat.

"But no matter what," Emma continued, blinking the tears out of her eyes. "I had to defend _you_. You've helped me out so much these past few days and I just... I don't know." Mary Margaret squeezed her hand.

"I understand," Mary Margaret murmured. "Thank you. But you don't have to defend me. Not if it means that you end up like this." She indicated to Emma's bandaged hand, lightly rubbing her thumb over Emma's knuckles. Emma nodded as she swiped a tear from her face and apologised. Mary Margaret shook her head.

"Honestly, I appreciate it," Mary Margaret said truthfully. "I'd do the same for you. Well, maybe not the punching." A small smile came over her lips and Emma laughed, a grin finally presenting itself to Mary Margaret, and Mary Margaret felt a small twinge of victory at getting Emma to smile.

* * *

They continued to talk, conversation lighter than before, and Mary Margaret felt better knowing that Emma was happier and appreciated her help. She couldn't help but feel concerned about Emma and her feelings of abandonment, but continued to keep the mood positive. She wanted Emma to go home feeling good about their visit. She glanced at her microwave clock and her eyebrows snapped up. The clock read 7.15 pm. Emma must have seen her expression because she swivelled around to follow Mary Margaret's line of vision.

"Whoa!" Emma exclaimed upon seeing the clock, and Mary Margaret nodded. Time had quickly gotten away from them.

"I've gotta go," Emma said suddenly, standing up from her chair. Mary Margaret's eyes widened and she hurriedly stood up.

"Sorry to keep you so long! I wasn't keeping track of the time," Mary Margaret quickly apologised and Emma shook her head.

"No, don't worry about it," She quickly reassured. "I wasn't paying attention either. I just- uh, didn't want to get back too late."

"Did you want me to drive you home?" Mary Margaret offered.

Emma shook her head vehemently. "I'll be fine."

"I'd be happy to take you; I don't want you walking in the cold," Mary Margaret reassured.

"But -"

"Emma, please." Mary Margaret's eyes were wide with sincerity and care, and after a moment's hesitation, Emma nodded.

"Okay," She accepted weakly. Mary Margaret nodded and picked up Emma's backpack as Emma pulled on her boots, wary of her bruised hand.

They headed down the stairs into the cold evening and to Mary Margaret's snow-dusted car. Emma frowned and looked up. Tiny snowflakes were falling from the sky. She hadn't even noticed that it had started snowing. Mary Margaret swept the snow off the passenger door handle with her hand and opened the door for Emma. Emma smiled gratefully and climbed in. Mary Margaret followed suit and they drove away from the kerb.

"Glad you're not walking home in this?" Mary Margaret asked teasingly, quickly taking her eyes away from the road to glance at Emma, who nodded sheepishly.

"I didn't realise that it was snowing," Emma admitted. Mary Margaret chuckled.

"So, where to?" She asked. Emma told her the address and Mary Margaret's eyes widened. The area that Emma was living in was quite a fancy area of Storybrooke. Emma must be well taken care of.

As she pulled into the street, Emma suddenly burst out, "Stop here!", and Mary Margaret slammed on the brakes for the second time in one day. The car skidded on the icy road. The force of it threw them forward and they barely missed slamming their heads onto the dashboard of the car.

Mary Margaret whipped herself around to face Emma as soon as the car had fully stopped in the middle of the empty street.

"Emma! Emma, are you okay?" Mary Margaret grabbed Emma's face in her hands, checking her over for injuries. Emma violently flinched and pulled away quickly.

"D-don't hit me!" Emma cried desperately. Mary Margaret was taken aback and she lowered her hands.

"What?" She breathed, head reeling. Emma's eyes widened upon realisation and she bowed her head.

"Sorry. I don't know why I said that," Emma mumbled. "I'm okay."

"Is someone hurting you, Emma?" Mary Margaret asked, eyebrows knitted together in concern. Emma's desperate cry was still ringing through her head and she placed a hand over her pounding heart.

Emma shook her head furiously. "No!"

"You can tell me anything, honey," Mary Margaret told her, desperate to get an answer.

Emma hung her head. "I know," She nodded softly, and then whispered, "but you won't be able to help me."

Mary Margaret's eyes widened and Emma quickly mumbled, "Thanks for tonight," and jumped out of the car, hauling her backpack behind her. Mary Margaret could only watch helplessly as Emma ran away from the car and toward one of the houses. As Emma walked up the path to the front door, it yanked open and Emma's face visibly paled. A hand reached out and grabbed Emma's wrist, quickly pulling her inside the house. Mary Margaret sat up in her seat in shock.

What just happened? Was that one of Emma's foster parents?

Mary Margaret's eyes snapped open wide in realisation.

Was Emma...scared of her foster parents?


	7. Brand New Day

**Thank you all for the reviews and favourites and follows! Every response I get makes me so happy! Enjoy Chapter 7!**

* * *

Chapter 7 - Brand New Day

_I'm throwing rocks at your window,_

_We're leaving this place together,_

_They say that we're flying too high -_

_Well, get used to looking up._

_Dream,_

_Send me a sign,_

_Turn back the clock,_

_Give me some time,_

_I need to break out and make a new name._

_Let's open our eyes to the brand new day -_

_It's a brand new day._

Mary Margaret quickly jogged up the pathway to the large house, breathing the cold air in heavily. She tried to be as quiet as possible, but her nervous panting was probably giving her away. It was about 2.30 am, pitch-black and freezing cold. She had left her car at home, worried that it would make too much noise.

Upon reaching her destination, she walked up to the house and placed her hands on the brick wall, resting her head against it for a second. She cautiously pressed her body against the cold structure while she hid out of sight and caught her breath, the winter air cooling her body down from the rapid walking pace that it took to get here.

Glancing around to make sure she hadn't been seen, she quickly peeled herself away from the wall, and raised her head up, studying all of the windows on the second floor of the house. Where was that signal...

There!

A little, red ribbon was pinned down by the upper right window, flapping wildly in the cool breeze. Mary Margaret smiled.

"I'm here, Emma," She murmured, and reached down to the ground to pick up a small stone from the concrete. It was cool and smooth in her hand, and stepping back, she lightly tossed it at Emma's window. It made impact and a soft, _plink_ sound rang out. Mary Margaret waited patiently, and a few seconds later, the window rattled.

Someone was opening the latch.

It slowly pushed open and Mary Margaret held her breath.

A blonde head popped out, glancing around and Mary Margaret released the breath she was holding, relieved.

"Emma!" She called softly, and Emma's eyes connected with hers. The young girl's mouth stretched into a happy grin and her head disappeared back into the room. A second later, a little backpack was tossed out the window, and Mary Margaret rushed forward to catch it. She clutched it to her chest and stepped back, watching as Emma carefully stepped out of her window and started to slowly climb down the wall of the large house. Luckily, the bricks in the wall poked out and Emma stepped on each of them as easily as if she were walking down stairs.

She landed on the ground with a soft thud, and Mary Margaret immediately rushed forward and wrapped her arms around the girl in relief.

"I'm so sorry I didn't notice earlier. If I had known about the abuse earlier..." Mary Margaret whispered into Emma's ear, trailing off. Emma nodded into her shoulder.

"It's okay. You're here now," She answered quietly. Mary Margaret pulled away and clutched at her shoulders.

She smiled. "That's right." Emma smiled back, and Mary Margaret felt a wave of relief.

"Come on," Mary Margaret started, handing Emma her backpack and then clutching her hand. "Let's go -"

"I don't think so."

They swivelled around quickly. Standing behind them, near the front door was a tall, furious-looking man. He was dressed in jeans and a shirt, as if he had never even gone to bed - _as if he had known about their plan_. He stood there with his arms crossed, something black and shiny in his right hand.

A gun.

Mary Margaret gasped upon seeing it, and quickly pushed Emma behind her. Emma clutched at her arm.

"Mary Margaret..." She whispered, terrified. Mary Margaret didn't respond, just held Emma behind her tighter.

"Did you honestly think you could just run away?" The man sneered, twirling the gun in his hand as if it were nothing but a pencil. "You -" He pointed towards Emma, "- are going to go back inside, and you'll be punished. Then, maybe, I'll forget about this little incident."

Mary Margaret stiffened. This man was Emma's _foster father_?

"A-and if I don't?" Emma asked over Mary Margaret's shoulder, trying to sound brave, but failing miserably.

Her foster father cocked his head to the side, as if thinking deeply about his response, before answering, "I'll have to shoot her." He held the gun up, pointing it towards Mary Margaret. Mary Margaret's eyes widened.

"No!" She heard Emma gasp out from behind her, and felt Emma's grip tighten on her arm before it disappeared altogether.

"...Okay," Emma mumbled quietly. Mary Margaret whipped her head to the side to see that Emma had walked out from behind her and was heading towards her foster father.

"No! Emma!" Mary Margaret cried and rushed forward towards her. There was no way she would let her go back to this monster.

Time seemed to slow down.

She saw Emma's foster father raise his gun once more. Mary Margaret watched in horror as his finger pulled the trigger and -

_BANG!_

Mary Margaret's eyes snapped open and she jolted up in bed. Her breathing was ragged, sweat beading on her forehead and she clutched her bed sheets in her fists.

Her eyes darted around her silent, peaceful bedroom as she tried to calm her rapidly beating heart. She placed a hand to her forehead and sighed.

Just a nightmare.

* * *

Morning arrived slowly, and Mary Margaret yawned for the umpteenth time into her hand. She was slumped in her kitchen chair, sipping a cup of coffee. She hoped it would wake her up, as teaching a class of fourth-graders would be horrible to do whilst half-asleep. After the nightmare last night, she had barely slept a wink.

Sighing, Mary Margaret placed her empty coffee mug in the sink and pulled on her coat. It was too early for work, but she had a different destination in mind.

Mary Margaret took the stairs two at a time, while pulling on gloves, and reached her car in less than a minute. Sliding into the driver's seat, she peered into the rear-view mirror and quickly readjusted her hair under the beret she wore so that she didn't look so windswept, and started the car.

* * *

Upon arrival, the first thing Mary Margaret noticed when she walked into the sheriff's station's hallway was that it was eerily quiet. She frowned, looking around as she walked down the empty hall. The sheriff must be out.

"Yes, Ma'am, I understand." A voice suddenly called out. Mary Margaret immediately recognised the Irish lilt and walked into the main office. Graham was sitting at his desk, talking on the phone. He had a hand on his forehead in clear frustration, but upon seeing Mary Margaret, his lips rose in a smile and she waved politely. He indicated to the couch next to the jail cell and she took a seat on the edge of the couch, waiting for Graham to finish up his call.

"Yes. Okay, I'll see what I can do. ...Thank you, Mrs. Jones."

Graham placed the phone on the receiver and sighed.

"Is everything okay?" Mary Margaret asked, concerned at his stressed posture.

"Teenage runaway." Graham sounded weary, and he rubbed his scruffy face.

Mary Margaret's heart stopped.

"Runaway?" She asked, feeling lightheaded. Her nightmare flashed back through her mind and she shivered. Could it be Emma?

Graham nodded. "Yeah. Apparently this isn't the first time the lad's done this."

Mary Margaret sagged in relief. Thank goodness. It wasn't Emma.

"So, uh," Graham started, scratching his cheek. He leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk. "How can I help you, Mary Margaret?"

After relaying the events of the past few days to Graham, emphasising every detail about Emma's injuries, he grimaced.

"It does sound like a possible case of abuse," He said, the tone in his voice sounding hesitant. "But -"

"But what?" Mary Margaret interrupted, feeling slight panic rise up in her throat. He couldn't help with the situation?

Graham rubbed the back of his neck. "Until you can actually find some valid proof of abuse, or the child in question tells you about it, then there's not much I can do, I'm afraid." Though his voice remained steady, his eyes betrayed him, revealing deep sincerity to Mary Margaret.

Mary Margaret's eyes widened. "What?" She breathed.

Graham shook his head. "I'm sorry. These have been the rules for as long as I can remember."

"But Emma was clearly terrified of going home! She had bruises all over her arms and shoulders!" Mary Margaret cried. "Please, Graham, there must be something you can do! Please!"

Graham sighed. "The Mayor won't like this."

"You know it's the right thing to do," Mary Margaret said firmly.

Graham looked into her eyes for a moment before nodding.

"All right," He said finally. "I'm not sure how much I can do, but I'll look into it. See if I can dig up some information on the Blacks."

"Thank you." Mary Margaret smiled.

"In the meantime, just try to keep an eye on her," Graham suggested. "If it turns out to be true that Emma's foster parents are abusive, we're going to have to remove her from the house. She's going to need support."

Mary Margaret nodded. "Of course." Her face grew solemn. "What will happen to her if this is all true?"

"She'll probably be placed in a group home until she's placed with another foster family."

Mary Margaret's eyes widened slightly in worry. "But what if she's placed with another abusive family?"

"Mary Margaret... I'm sure that this is all just a misunderstanding." Graham sounded slightly exhausted.

"Graham," Mary Margaret replied, feeling frustrated. She felt bad for the young man, but refused to leave until she got her point across. "I'm almost certain that this girl is being abused. And I want to help her."

Graham raised his eyebrows, almost as if saying, 'Well? What are you going to do then?'

Mary Margaret took a deep breath, and impulsively declared:

"I want to become her foster parent."


	8. Lovable - Part 1

**So, I had to split up this chapter into a few chapters because it was getting a little long. While this chapter is called "Lovable - Part 1", the next chapter will not be called "Lovable - Part 2", but it will be a different song title. Don't let the song titles confuse you - everything will still be in chronological order. Hope this makes sense. **

**Thank you all again for your reviews and follows - especially the anon reviewers who I cannot contact privately! (Thank you so much to my 4th of July reviewer - you are so sweet! :D) Please enjoy the chapter!**

**Trigger warning - abuse in this chapter.**

* * *

Chapter 8 - Lovable - Part 1

_"Stupid child! You were just an accident._

_Worthless child!"_

_That's what he says._

_"A waste of time -_

_You're never going to make me proud._

_Don't you cry,_

_Or I'll give you something to cry about!"_

"You can tell me anything, honey," Mary Margaret told Emma, her tone full of desperation. She looked into the young girl's eyes, and Emma could immediately see the care and concern for her in the green irises.

Emma hung her head, avoiding Mary Margaret's gaze. "I know," She nodded softly. She knew fully well that Mary Margaret wanted to help her. She wanted to tell Mary Margaret everything- it was all she wanted to do. But if she didn't return home because she told Mary Margaret what her foster father does to her... her foster father would never forgive her. He may even try to hurt Mary Margaret. She could never let that happen.

Emma glanced up at Mary Margaret and whispered, "...but you won't be able to help me."

Emma watched as Mary Margaret's eyes widened in what looked like hurt and Emma quickly mumbled, "Thanks for tonight," and jumped out of the car. She clutched her backpack to her shoulder, quickly running towards the house.

It hurt.

It hurt knowing that she had someone who wanted to help her - someone who _actually_ seemed to care - and she couldn't let them in. No, it was safer for Mary Margaret to keep her distance. Who knows what her foster father may do to her...

Emma quickly walked up the path to the front door. She prayed that her foster parents were asleep, but her hopes were violently ripped away as the front door pulled open, revealing her foster father's furious face. Emma was sure that her face had paled at the sight of him. He reached out and grabbed Emma's wrist painfully, dragging her inside the cold house. Emma could only hope that Mary Margaret didn't see this happening.

She could only watch as he released her wrist to slam the front door behind them and then he turned to face her. He looked a little bit more sober than earlier, judging by his sharp movements.

Her foster father leaned forward and yelled, "Stupid child! You weren't at a friend's house! I saw you with an adult! You were with an adult, weren't you?!"

Emma's eyes widened. His number one rule was that she was never allowed to talk to adults. Talking to adults meant that she was telling the authorities on him. She didn't answer. No... She couldn't tell him.

"Answer me!" He backhanded Emma across the face, giving her no time to dodge the blow. Her cheek immediately burned and her eyes stung with tears.

"N-no, I swear..."

"Don't lie to me!" He roared and she jumped back. He reached forward and grabbed her by the front of her shirt.

Too close.

Emma gasped and tried to pull away, but his grip tightened.

"Tell me the truth, you worthless child!"

"I-I am!" Emma begged, tears falling from her eyes in terror and anguish.

"Don't you cry, little bitch," Her foster father sneered. He slapped her across the face. Hard. She felt her cheek sting and she was positive that it had left an immediate bruise.

"I promise! I was at a friend's house!" She shouted desperately. The tears fell faster. She felt absolutely terrified. "I promise!"

"Bullshit!" He shook her in his grip and she whimpered.

"Please... Let me go!"

"Do you honestly think that telling an _adult_ would get you out?" He screamed and threw her to the ground. "That's never going to happen! You're going to be here with me forever!"

Emma scuttled away quickly but her foster father hovered over her, and she sobbed openly as he began to throw sharp punches to her ribs.

"I'll give you something to cry about!" He roared and continued the attack. Emma tried to roll away, but he pinned her by the legs and started to hit her stomach. Emma felt weak, the pain becoming too much for her. Her forehead was throbbing once more and she started to see spots in her vision from it. She breathed in as deeply as she could.

"Help! Mrs. Black?!" Emma screamed out, praying desperately that the oblivious woman would come to her rescue. Her foster father began to laugh nastily, halting the attack to clutch his sides. Emma could only stare in bewilderment at his current mental state.

This man was insane.

"Y-you think... that my _wife_ can help _you_?" He gasped out between laughs. Emma could only watch as he leaned towards her, a few chuckles still escaping his lips, and sneered out, "The damn woman left me. Said I was too violent."

Emma's eyes widened. No...

"You're going to be stuck here for a long. Long. Time." Emma could smell the alcohol on his breath. That's why he had been drinking. He suddenly reached out and grasped her by the hair, yanking violently. Emma screamed, not expecting the attack.

He was too close.

She needed out.

"Let me go!" She cried and wriggled as desperately as she could. "Please!"

His grip on her was too tight however, and he backhanded her once more.

"I'm going to punish you for your terrible behaviour - and then, maybe, I'll forgive you," The man wagered. "If you don't agree... Well, let's just say that the punishment you get will be ten times worse."

Emma nodded as best as she could, sobbing loudly. She tried to contain her cries, knowing that it would only drive him further if she did, but couldn't stop.

Everything hurt.

Body and mind.

She just wanted out.

* * *

Bruises marred the length of both of Emma's ribs. Her arms and collarbone were colourful shades of green and blue and Emma grimaced, studying her reflection in the mirror in her bedroom. She slid her shirt back down to cover her torso and sighed. Just when her previous bruises were beginning to heal. Thank goodness it was winter. She would be able to wear clothes which would cover all of the marks.

It was now Friday morning. Her foster father had 'punished' her on Tuesday night after she had gone to visit Mary Margaret, but the bruises still remained. After he had brutally beaten her up, he had stormed off, slamming the front door behind him. Emma had assumed that he had gone to the bar. She had limped to the bathroom to clean herself up and had sat in the bath, the water cool on her skin, and there, she had allowed herself to cry.

Emma shook her head to clear the memory from it. She focused back on the present, and grimaced at the thought of facing her foster father this morning. He had been out every morning after the attack, but was always back at night, staring at her menacingly when she walked through the front door after school, but keeping his distance. She shuddered at the thought.

She walked stiffly from the mirror to her backpack, picking it up with a wince. Her ribs ached like nothing else and she faced the bedroom door and took a deep breath, preparing herself in case her foster father was out in the kitchen.

Emma opened the door, cautiously poking her head out to look around.

No one in sight.

She sighed in relief and headed towards the front door, quickly leaving before anyone could notice. Emma quickly trekked the path to the bus stop as best as she could with a bruised and still-sore torso. Most days she would just walk to school but when she was this sore she needed some other form of transport. Upon arrival, she sat down at the bus stop and waited.

It was a cold morning, and Emma pulled her jacket around her tighter. It was quiet. Not an eerie quiet, but a peaceful, calming one, and Emma enjoyed the sound of silence before something could interrupt it. She glanced up at the clock tower, and frowned at the time. She knew she had left her house early, but not _this_ early. She had almost an hour to wait until the bus got there. No wonder it was so quiet.

Emma sat back against the bench, preparing herself for a long, cold wait, when suddenly, she spotted someone out of the corner of her eye, heading towards the bus stop. She turned her head to see who it was and her eyes snapped wide open.

Neal.

Emma gulped. She hadn't spoken to him since they...did it. He hadn't tried to call her, which was kind of good because she had been trying to avoid him. All that was about to change however, because he had obviously seen her, and was hesitantly sitting beside her on the bench.

"Hey," Neal offered with a smile.

"Hi," Emma replied, feeling slightly shy.

"So..." He trailed off. "Um, I'm really sorry about what happened last weekend. I didn't know that you would react like that. I didn't know you didn't want to do it."

Emma shrugged, even though she was positive that she had made it pretty clear what she had wanted.

"It's okay," She mumbled. Neal smiled and clutched her hand, not noticing the slight flinch.

"Wanna come over this afternoon?" He asked, sounding cheerier.

Emma pulled her hand away at the request. "Uh, I don't know..."

"Please? It'll be fun!"

"...alright," Emma reluctantly agreed. Neal sounded so happy - she couldn't wreck this for him. And she needed some quality time with her boyfriend; she only hoped that her foster father would still be out when she got home.

They sat and talked until the bus came, and they climbed on and separated so that Neal could go and sit with his senior friends. Emma sat on an empty seat near the front and sighed. She placed her cheek into her hand and rested her head against the window.

She felt tired.

She _was_ tired.

Tired of putting up fronts for everyone, tired of pretending to be okay, tired of faking that she liked sitting alone on a school bus.

Just...tired.


	9. Hurt

**Over 100 reviews?! Thank you so much guys! Honestly, it makes me so much more motivated to write when I get such lovely reviews, so, all I can say is thank you very, very much!**

**Dedicated to Ellis: Hope you have a wonderful birthday! Enjoy the chapter :)**

* * *

Chapter 9 - Hurt

_Help me help you -_

_They won't be there._

_Help me help you -_

_They won't see._

_And it hurts when you need me._

_And I can't break your fall,_

_It hurts when you can't see._

_And it hurts._

Three knocks. Three seconds. Three footsteps, and suddenly the door pulled open, revealing Neal's happy face. Emma smiled back, feeling genuinely happier after witnessing his joyful expression at seeing her.

"Hey, sorry I couldn't give you a lift here," Neal apologised as Emma slipped inside. "Had to stay behind for a bit to talk to some people."

"It's okay," Emma nodded. It _was_ okay. The slow walk over to Neal's place had given her time to think.

"Did you want to watch a movie?" Neal offered.

Emma nodded. "Sure."

Emma sat down on the couch, watching as Neal popped a DVD into the television and she twiddled her thumbs impatiently. Neal smiled as he stood up and sat beside her. He pressed his shoulder against hers as their hands joined together and fingers intertwined.

Emma smiled. She liked this side of him. The romantic side. The non-pressuring side.

Suddenly, Neal leaned down to kiss her and Emma flinched violently, backing away on the couch.

Too close.

Her vision grew slightly blurry. She shook her head, trying to clear it of the spots, but to no avail. She looked at Neal's worried face but instead, saw the face of someone _very_ different leaning over her.

Her foster father.

Emma shrieked and pushed herself further away from him, feeling sudden panic rising in her throat.

"No! Stay away!" She cried. Neal leaned further over her in concern. Emma wrenched her eyes shut tightly, trying to block the image of her foster father out of her mind.

"Emma? What's wrong? Emma!"

He was too close.

She needed to get away.

She needed space.

She needed air.

He was way too close.

Too close.

"Stop!"

And all at once, everything calmed.

Emma breathed deeply, trying to gather enough air into her lungs. For some reason, her palm had begun to sting painfully. She slowly opened her eyes and risked looking at Neal. To her extreme relief, he was sitting further back on the couch. He was clutching his cheek.

His bright red cheek.

Emma gasped in shock. She looked down at her tingling palm. She had...hit him?

Emma looked back up at Neal's stunned expression and held back a sob as she stood up from the couch.

"Emma -" Neal began, but Emma tore away from his outstretched hand. She bolted towards the front door and slammed it as she left the house.

She ran and ran, not really knowing where she was headed. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realised that she had left her backpack sitting by the front door inside of Neal's house, but at that point she didn't care. She was way too ashamed and shocked at the fact that she had _hit_ Neal. There was no way that he'd ever forgive her now. For some reason, Neal had reminded her so much of her foster father in the way that he had leaned over her - it was what her foster father did before hitting her - and it had made her panic.

Suddenly, Emma realised that she had stopped running and was now standing outside of a front door. When had she gotten here? She swivelled around, taking in her surroundings, and realised that she was inside of an apartment building.

Mary Margaret's apartment building.

She wiped her wet face, trying to clear it of her tears. Why had she come here? How could Mary Margaret help her?

_"If you need anything..."_

To her shock, her hand raised and knocked quietly on the door. She stared at it, feeling stunned at the subconscious gesture.

"Uh, coming!" A voice called and to Emma's horror, a few more tears spilt down her cheeks. She had no time to wipe them away, however, because a few seconds later, the door opened. Mary Margaret was standing there, her face slightly flushed and her hair a little dishevelled. At seeing Emma, her face lit up considerably, but then her expression turned straight to concern.

"Emma," She breathed, eyes wide. "What happened? Come in..."

Emma nodded, unable to speak in fear that she would start crying harder. She stepped into the room and immediately stopped when she saw a man sitting on Mary Margaret's couch. His hair was also dishevelled and he stood up upon seeing Emma.

"Uh, hi," He said, sounding a little sheepish. "I'm David."

So this was David. If it were any other time, Emma may have made some sassy remark about him being the famous 'Mr. Coma Patient', but she simply nodded and whispered, "Emma."

"Emma," David repeated, his eyebrows slowly furrowing. He stood stock-still, gazing at her with an unreadable expression on his face, and Emma shuffled her feet nervously at his stance. All too quickly, he snapped out of whatever trance he was in and quickly nodded.

"Uh, I should probably go," He said, looking over the top of Emma's head. Emma turned around to see Mary Margaret standing behind her.

Emma watched as David walked over to the front door, and she felt even worse. Not only had she slapped Neal, she had now ruined what looked like a date. She held back a sob as she sat on the abandoned couch and placed her head into her hands.

Mary Margaret was murmuring something to David, and she could hear the reassurance in his voice as David told her that it was fine. With that, she heard the door close shut, and a few seconds later, Emma felt the couch dip slightly under Mary Margaret's weight. A warm hand rested on the small of her back.

Emma took a deep breath to try to contain her tears, but found she was unable to. It was probably the combination of her still-stinging palm and the feel of Mary Margaret's warm hand on her back, but she couldn't hold in the sob that came out of her throat.

"Oh, honey..." Mary Margaret's voice was soothing, and Emma pressed her face further into her hands. She wanted to hide. Her emotions were getting the better of her and she didn't know whether she wanted to run away, or stay here. Mary Margaret rubbed circles in her back before cautiously slipping her arm around Emma's shoulders.

"What happened?" She asked, and Emma shook her head. She couldn't tell Mary Margaret. That would mean telling her about her home life. As much as she wanted to, she couldn't. She couldn't endanger Mary Margaret.

"I'm fine," Emma mumbled, raising her head from her hands to look at Mary Margaret.

Mary Margaret shook her head and gave a small, humourless smile. "Emma, you seem far from fine. What's wrong?"

Emma dropped her gaze once more. She felt Mary Margaret squeeze her shoulder gently and a few stray tears dripped down her cheeks.

"I... I hit my boyfriend," Emma choked out. She flicked her eyes up to see Mary Margaret's face.

Mary Margaret's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and she asked, "How come? Did he do something to hurt you?"

Emma shook her head and a whimper escaped from her lips. The memory of her foster father was still fresh in her mind and she placed her head back in her hands. She felt a hand cover both of hers and lightly pull them away from her face.

"Hey, don't hide," Mary Margaret said gently, holding one of Emma's hands in her own. "Tell me." Her hand resumed the circles on Emma's back once more.

Emma shook her head. "I can't," She whispered. "It'll hurt you."

"What do you mean?" Mary Margaret questioned, her tone growing slightly desperate and confused. "Please, Emma, I want to help you. And I think you want me to help, but you're too scared. Please - let me in."

Emma's gaze lifted and she knew that Mary Margaret was right. She did want help. She wanted it more than anything, but she knew the consequences of talking to adults.

Punishment.

She sadly looked away from Mary Margaret and heard the woman sigh.

"Emma, I have to ask you something," Mary Margaret voiced hesitantly. She rubbed her thumb over Emma's knuckles gently, silently marvelling at how fast the bruises had healed from the previous week.

Emma nodded after a moment's hesitation, looking at their interlocked hands. She quickly wiped a few tears away and said, "Okay."

She watched as Mary Margaret took a deep breath, and looking her in the eye, asked, "Is everything okay at home?"

Emma froze. Her heart pounded violently in shock. "What?"

"Well, it's just that," Mary Margaret seemed to be fumbling over her words. "Last week, when I dropped you off at home, you seemed scared. And I saw someone grab you when you walked inside."

Emma shook her head and pulled her hand out of Mary Margaret's. "Uh, that was just my foster father. He was just mad that I was back too late."

Mary Margaret frowned. "Mad?"

"Yeah. But it was nothing," Emma nodded, trying to keep her tone indifferent, but failing when her voice wavered slightly on the last word.

"Honey..." Mary Margaret began. "I've seen your bruises. I know that someone is hurting you. Is it your foster father?"

"No! No, it isn't!" Emma cried out, starting to feel desperate. Mary Margaret just didn't understand - Emma was trying to protect her! Why couldn't she see that?

"But there is someone hurting you?" Mary Margaret pressed, needing some form of answer.

"No!" Emma shouted, pushing Mary Margaret away and jumping up from the couch, turning to face the woman. "I'm fine! Why can't you just leave me the hell alone?!"

As soon as the words had left her mouth, she immediately regretted them.

Mary Margaret's eyes were wide with shock and hurt. An uneasy silence hung over the room and Emma bowed her head in shame.

"I... I'm..." Emma stuttered uneasily. "...Mary Margaret-"

"Emma." Mary Margaret's voice was quiet. "Do you really feel that way?"

"I... No, I -" Emma felt like her tongue was too big for her mouth. The words weren't coming out.

_"I need you, Mary Margaret."_

Emma hadn't realised that she had actually managed to whisper the words until they were out, and a few more tears fell. Mary Margaret tilted her head in sympathy at Emma's small confession and stood up. She reached forward and carefully pulled Emma into a hug.

Emma's eyes widened. She was sure that Mary Margaret would hit her, or at the very least, kick her out after she had said such horrible things to her. She didn't expect the woman to try to comfort her by wrapping her arms around her. Mary Margaret was warm, and her scent was comforting, and Emma hesitated before placing her hands on Mary Margaret's back.

"It's okay, Emma. I understand."

At this, Emma held back a sob and pressed her face against Mary Margaret's shoulder to try to hide her emotions. Mary Margaret just squeezed her in return and began to run a hand up and down Emma's back.

Emma sighed thickly. She couldn't remember feeling this safe since... Well, never. She wasn't in danger. She wasn't with her foster father -

Her foster father. He was going to kill her. She had broken his rule again.

Emma pulled out of Mary Margaret's embrace with wide eyes. She immediately felt the loss of those safe arms around her and whimpered.

"Emma?" Mary Margaret asked, looking worried at Emma's panic.

"I- I have to go!" Emma said, wiping her eyes painfully, and she quickly spun on her heels and tore from the room for the second time that day. She ignored Mary Margaret calling out to her to "wait!", and ran down the flight of stairs. The tears were back full force, and didn't bother to wipe them away.

She just ran.

* * *

Mary Margaret stared, stunned as Emma yanked away from her.

"I- I have to go!" Emma stuttered, and Mary Margaret's eyes widened at Emma's sudden panic. She was about to ask what was wrong when the girl swiped at her eyes and quickly headed over to the apartment door. Mary Margaret felt her voice coming back.

"Wait!" She called desperately, and ran through the now-open door of her apartment but Emma was already running down the flight of stairs. She watched sadly.

"Emma..." She mumbled sadly.

With a sigh, she walked back inside and shut the door, resuming her place on the small couch once more. Emma was clearly upset, though Mary Margaret didn't quite understand. Of course, she understood that Emma had had some sort of disagreement with her boyfriend. That in itself seemed like a very good reason for any young girl to be upset. But it felt like Emma was hurting about something else. And Emma's response had confused her.

_"It'll hurt you."_

Who, or what would hurt Mary Margaret? Emma's abuser? She sighed in slight frustration. It had felt like Emma was subconsciously asking Mary Margaret for help, but was too frightened. Even if she wasn't admitting it aloud, Mary Margaret knew that Emma needed to get away from whoever was abusing her - to a stable, safe home.

And Mary Margaret was going to try and give that to her.

* * *

The car slowly screeched to a halt outside of the large house and Mary Margaret winced. Her car was so noisy... Maybe she should have followed the example of her nightmare and walked there. She winced at the memory of the nightmare, the sound of the gunfire ringing through her mind, and she shook her head to clear it.

She climbed out of the car and gazed at Emma's foster parent's house. Her plan was to go and knock on the door, and try to have a civilised conversation with Emma's foster parents - not about the abuse, of course. If they were the ones abusing Emma, she didn't want them to know that she knew about it. It may make them retaliate against Emma even more. She wasn't sure as to what to talk to them about yet, but she figured a little improvisation never killed anyone.

She just wanted to see for herself what Emma's home life was like. Emma was clearly too frightened to talk about her home life, and Graham had never gotten back to her. She figured that he had been busy with the teenage runaway case and hadn't had a chance yet, which left her with only one option - to go and have a look for herself.

Mary Margaret took a deep breath, and bracing herself, she slowly walked up the path to the house and hesitated before raising her hand to knock.

"No! _Please!_ I promise!" A voice screamed out from behind the door.

Mary Margaret froze, feeling stunned, her hand still raised in mid-air. What was happening? That sounded a lot like Emma...

"Stop! No! No..." The voice sobbed out, and Mary Margaret gasped in shock. She could hear another voice - a man's - sneering something that she couldn't quite hear, but she had had enough. She moved away from the door, feeling horribly sick and pulled out her cellphone. She quickly dialled a number and waited.

"Hello, Sheriff's station?" A tired, Irish-lilted voice asked.

"Graham!" Mary Margaret gasped out, panic starting to rise up inside of her. "You have to come and help! It's Emma! She's - she... You have to get down here. We need to get her out of this house. Now!"


	10. Lovable - Part 2

**Thank you so much for your patience (and, well, impatience. I say that with love ;D) and overwhelming amount of reviews!**

**Trigger: Abuse in this chapter. **

**(Also, please know that I have very limited knowledge at what is ahead in the chapter.)**

* * *

Chapter 10 - Lovable - Part 2

_Careless words -_

_Scars no one can see_

_How they hurt and cut you so deep._

_But there are words_

_With the power to bring life._

_Hear them now._

_You're treasure in heavens' eyes._

Emma breathed heavily as she ran away from Mary Margaret's apartment and slowed to a brisk walk as she got further away. She didn't really have anywhere else to go as it was getting late so she decided to head back to her foster parents house.

She didn't want to leave Mary Margaret, but the woman was making her feel so safe... so warm... so vulnerable... It was causing her walls to crumble down. She had wanted to tell Mary Margaret about her foster father, so she could get away from him - and to go and stay with Mary Margaret-

She clenched her jaw.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

Did she really think that Mary Margaret would want her? How stupid was she? Of course Mary Margaret wouldn't want her! No person in their right mind would want her! She wasn't even good enough for her birth parents - why would Mary Margaret care about her?

Emma reached her house and with a silent prayer that her foster father was still out, unlocked the door and slipped inside quietly. She cautiously listened out and when she heard silence, she quickly locked the front door back up and headed to her room. If her foster father got home, she didn't want to be caught off guard. She sat heavily on her bed and held back a sob. Why did her parents have to abandon her? All she wanted was a secure home - they couldn't have provided that for her?

Suddenly, the front door rattled loudly. She stood up.

Her foster father was home.

Her eyes widened in panic, and she carefully listened out.

"...Where are youuu?"

His speech was slurred, Emma noted, her chest tightening in anticipation. He was probably drunk again. She shuddered and braced herself.

A sharp _bang_ sounded on her bedroom door, and Emma jumped. The door flew open and she gasped at the sight of him. He looked terrible; his clothes were torn and his left eye was covered in a black bruise. Upon seeing her, he narrowed his eyes as best as one can with a swollen eye.

"You did this to me," He growled, and Emma gaped, feeling panic grow.

"What?" She breathed quietly. She hadn't hurt him...

"You did this to me!" He repeated in a roar and reached out and grabbed the back of her shirt, hauling her into the kitchen and throwing her to the floor. Emma tried not to let the panic overtake her, but found it hard to when her ribs screamed at her in pain.

"I- I haven't done anything!" Emma cried.

"Yes, you have! When you came into this house! You took my wife away from me!"

As Emma could recall, Mrs. Black was a cold, ungrateful woman who tended to ignore her husband and Emma, and Emma had never liked the woman. How had she 'taken his wife away'?

Her foster father continued to look pain-stricken. "She left because of you! You drove her out! You did this! _You_!"

With that, he leaned over Emma and began to punch her in the ribs. Emma, not expecting the overwhelming surge of pain, screamed loudly.

"Shut up!"

He pinned her down with his knees and held her hands above her head and continued the assault one-handed, landing blows on her torso and chest. One particular hit to her ribs had Emma sobbing, unable to hold in her cries.

It was getting hard to breathe.

She needed to get away.

"You did this!" He repeated in a mad yell. "It's your fault! It's your fault that someone from the bar punched me because I was too upset about my wife! It's. All. Your. Fault!"

"No! Please! I promise!" Emma screamed out, desperate to stop the abuse. She honestly felt like she might actually _die_ if he didn't stop.

He didn't.

"Stop! No! No..." Emma cried out again, her voice tapering out into sobs. Fortunately, her foster father stopped his abuse and leaned down close to her face. She couldn't look anywhere else but to the swollen face of her foster father.

"This isn't just punishment for my wife," He whispered in a cold sneer. "This is also for talking to that bitch adult that you seem to like so much."

Despite the circumstances, Emma felt a swell of anger underneath the pain.

"You don't know anything about her!" Emma yelled. She immediately regretted her decision when her foster father narrowed his good eye and resumed the attack, this time sending one punch to her face. She let out a pained gasp.

"That's for talking back, you little shit! And just so you know, no one will ever, _ever_ want you!"

Emma sobbed quietly in response. She knew that he was right. No one would ever want her. Not her birth parents, not Mary Margaret, nobody. No one.

Suddenly, the front door crashed open, causing her foster father to stop hitting Emma and swivel around without standing. Emma couldn't see around her foster father's large body, and she couldn't get up either. All she could do was try to listen.

"You! Get away from the girl. Now!"

A voice was shouting. It was a man's voice, Emma noted. Who was this?

"I said, get away from her!"

Her foster father quickly climbed off of Emma and stood a few feet away from her, looking pale. Emma immediately saw a bearded man in a uniform pointing a gun out at her now shaky-looking foster father.

The Sheriff. Thank goodness.

Emma was so relieved that she felt a few tears leak from her eyes, and she worried that she might start crying all over again. She tried to get up, but it felt hard to breathe and her ribs were in screaming agony, so she decided to lay there and listen.

The Sheriff moved away from the open doorway and cautiously stepped closer to her foster father, releasing a hand from the gun to pull out a pair of handcuffs from his belt.

"Kevin Black," He began, and for the first time, Emma noticed the strong accent. He clicked the handcuffs firmly around her foster father's wrists. "You are under arrest for the abuse of a child. You have the right to remain silent."

Emma's eyes widened as she stared openly at the two men. This was it? It was over? But, how did the Sheriff even find out about this?

And that was when she saw Mary Margaret.

The woman was standing by the doorway, looking cautiously at the scene. As soon as she met Emma's eyes, she gasped in horror and raced to her side. Emma figured she must have looked a mess. Mary Margaret didn't seem to care, however, because she hovered over Emma and gently ran a hand through her hair.

"Emma... Oh, Emma... Honey..." Mary Margaret sobbed out. A few tears spilt down her fair cheeks and onto Emma's forehead. "I'm so sorry..."

"Why?" Emma asked quietly. The room felt like it was starting to spin - the only thing keeping her grounded were the steady fingers running through her hair. "It's not your fault."

Mary Margaret smiled sadly through her tears. "I'm sorry I didn't get here in time to stop this."

"It's... It's alright," Emma gasped out. Mary Margaret's face above her was starting to grow blurry. It was hard to breathe. Her chest felt like someone was wringing it like a sponge. She felt sticky and wet. What was happening?

"Graham! We need to get to a hospital!"

Why did Mary Margaret's voice sound so far away? Her eyes started to slide shut.

"Emma! Emma! Stay with me, sweetheart!"

Emma sighed and ignored Mary Margaret's panicked cries. She tilted her head to the side and allowed the darkness to consume her, finally feeling peaceful.

* * *

It was dark. Nothing hurt. It was peaceful. And suddenly:

"...How long until she wakes up, Doctor?"

"It's hard to say."

Emma heard muffled voices. She felt the darkness start to dissipate and she groaned softly. The pain was starting to seep back in.

"Emma? Emma? If you can hear me, squeeze my hand."

Emma felt like all of her strength had left her, but squeezed her hand as tightly as she could and felt a slightly calloused hand around hers. She began to hesitantly open her eyes. The first sight that greeted her eyes was a blond-haired man. He was wearing doctor's scrubs and his eyebrows were knitted in concern. One of his hands was clasped around one of Emma's. Emma glanced around and immediately noticed the white walls and beeping machinery. Another person wearing scrubs standing further back, writing something down on a clipboard. She was in the hospital.

The man carefully released her hand and pressed a button on the wall above her and the bed began to rise slightly to a seated position.

"What-" Emma croaked out. "What... happened? Who are you?"

The man gave a wry smile and handed her a glass of water from a nearby desk. Emma took it and sipped from the straw, the cool water giving her immediate relief.

The man spoke. "I understand you are a little confused. That's just the anaesthesia wearing off. My name is Doctor Whale. I'll be your doctor for the duration of your stay here."

Emma nodded slowly. Her brain felt fuzzy, and she felt like she wanted to fall back asleep, but more importantly, she wanted some answers.

"You were... Well... You were attacked by your foster father," Doctor Whale continued, sounding a little hesitant. "Your ribs were broken, and one of them punctured your left lung. You may have had difficulty breathing before arriving here. We managed to fix you in time, thanks to the Sheriff and another civilian. They saved you."

Emma nodded again, feeling slightly woozy from the new information. The Sheriff and... Mary Margaret?

"You don't have to worry now; your foster father is locked up. You won't ever have to go back to him."

The doctor's words reassured her, but Emma still felt an unsettling worry in the pit of her stomach.

"But... What will happen to me?" She asked quietly.

Doctor Whale grimaced. "I'm not sure. You'll have to talk to the Sheriff about that. He said that he'll come around later to see you."

She felt the panic dissipating a little and her eyes were starting to slide close.

"For now, just try and get a little more rest. Your body still needs time to heal," Doctor Whale spoke.

Emma didn't have a chance to respond, as her eyes shut and she felt at peace once more.

* * *

Mary Margaret clutched her cardigan around herself tightly, feeling anxious. She and Graham were sitting outside of the intensive care unit at the hospital. While Graham was sitting solemnly, Mary Margaret was fidgety and panicked.

"Do you think she's okay?" She asked nervously.

Graham shook his head. "I don't know."

"But Doctor Whale took her in over an hour ago," Mary Margaret reminded him unnecessarily.

"Mary Margaret -" Graham began, but stopped when he saw Doctor Whale himself walking towards them. Mary Margaret turned her head and jumped up at the sight of the man, Graham also standing up to greet him.

"How is she? Is she okay?"

Doctor Whale held up a hand to halt Mary Margaret's questions.

"She's fine," He reassured and both Graham and Mary Margaret sagged slightly in relief. "She has a perforated lung and a few broken ribs. We managed to patch her back up, and both injuries will heal over the course of a few weeks."

"Oh, poor thing... Thank goodness it was nothing major," Mary Margaret sighed, but Doctor Whale shook his head.

"There's more," He began grimly. He looked Mary Margaret and Graham each in the eyes, a sorrowful look in his own eyes. "How far did the extent of the abuse go?"

"I'm sorry?" Graham asked, sounding slightly bewildered.

Doctor Whale sighed, and reworded his question. "Were the attacks by her foster father just physical, or were they also sexual?"

Mary Margaret's eyes widened. "Are you saying -?"

Doctor Whale nodded. "Emma was bleeding quite severely - too severely for a typical menstrual cycle - so we had to do an ultrasound. Turns out she was in the very early stages of pregnancy."

Mary Margaret placed a hand over her heart and gasped, as Graham asked, "Wait; 'was'?"

"Yes, 'was'," Doctor Whale replied, his tone lowering a little. He gave the two a sympathetic look and went on to say, "This isn't really the right place to discuss this; let's head over to my office and we can talk about it there."

* * *

Emma's eyes slowly fluttered open to the sterile white hospital room. She blinked a few times, allowing her eyes to adjust and she glanced around at her surroundings. The room was small and empty, save for her bed, a chair, and the small bench beside it. A drip was attached to her hand and she stared at it weakly. The only sound was the soft beeping from the heart monitor beside her bed.

Sighing, she took the moment alone to her advantage and carefully raised her hospital gown by the collar to analyse the extent of her injuries. A large bandage covered both of her ribs, essentially blocking the view of her most-likely bruised torso and Emma wrinkled her nose at the sight of it. She allowed her shirt to settle down in place and her head fell gently back against the pillow.

What was going to happen to her now? A group foster home? She had been in one before this place, and it had not been pleasant. She had counted herself lucky to have ended up in a place like Storybrooke, where she had a boyfriend, and Mary Margaret -

There was a small knock on the door, interrupting her worried thoughts. Emma snapped her head up. Maybe this was the Sheriff with the news on what was going to happen to her.

"Come in," Emma called out, hating the way her voice sounded so weak.

The door opened cautiously and Mary Margaret stepped in. To her horror, Emma felt her face immediately light up at the sight of the woman, and she blushed.

Ugh, it must be the drugs they were giving her. She felt like such a sap.

She watched as Mary Margaret gave her a beaming smile in return and gently closed the door.

Emma noticed the Sheriff and the doctor that had woken her up earlier standing outside of the room. Both had serious expressions on their faces and Emma felt panic rise up in her. Mary Margaret seemed to notice because she sat on the chair beside the bed and took Emma's hand within her own. Mary Margaret's hand was a lot softer than Doctor Whale's, and Emma clutched it tightly.

"Hi, sweetheart," Mary Margaret whispered, a small smile on her face. She gently ran her thumb over Emma's knuckles. "You've been through a lot today, huh?"

Emma felt the panic simmer down at Mary Margaret's voice and she smiled softly, suddenly feeling shy. She stared at the blanket covering her legs to avoid Mary Margaret's loving gaze.

"Thanks for, uh, saving me earlier," Emma said suddenly, feeling a little awkward. It felt like a weird thing to thank someone for.

"Emma, you should have told me about your foster father," Mary Margaret told her, a sad look in her eyes. "I could have stopped this earlier."

Emma shrugged, feeling like a disappointment. "I didn't want him to hurt you."

Mary Margaret squeezed her hand gently, looking at a loss for words. Emma glanced back towards the blanket in her lap.

"Emma."

Emma raised her eyes back up to connect with Mary Margaret's.

Mary Margaret's face was completely serious, with an undertone of sympathy. "There's something I need to tell you."

"Okay," Emma said nervously.

Mary Margaret readjusted herself on the chair and held Emma's hand in both of her own.

"I need you to be completely honest with me," The woman began, and Emma nodded, feeling anxious at the sight of Mary Margaret's worried face.

"Did your foster father ever..." Mary Margaret paused before hesitatingly asking, "...Abuse you sexually?"

Emma's eyes widened. "What?" She breathed. "No... Why?"

Mary Margaret grimaced slightly. She ignored Emma's question with a soft, "I'm sorry, this is going to seem really personal, but..." She took a deep breath. "Did you ever have sex with your boyfriend?"

Emma felt her heart stop. The air was too thick and it felt harder to breathe than before.

"...Emma?" Mary Margaret asked off of Emma's silence.

Emma gulped, and then slowly nodded. "What's going on?" She whispered, a sinking feeling of dread in her stomach.

Mary Margaret squeezed her hand. Emma watched as the woman stared at their clasped hands for a few moments before raising her eyes to meet Emma's and, her voice laced with sadness, explained, "You were pregnant. You lost the baby due to shock and injury a few hours ago."

Emma felt the world come to a jerking stop.

"W-what?" Emma asked uneasily.

Mary Margaret nodded her head sadly and whispered, "I'm so sorry, honey."

"N-no. No. It can't be true. It can't!" Emma cried out in disbelief. "I wasn't pregnant! I would have known! D-don't you get symptoms? I-I didn't have any!"

Mary Margaret shook her head. "Doctor Whale said that sometimes a small percentage of women don't get any symptoms while in the early stages of pregnancy."

"No! No! I wasn't pregnant!" Emma shouted.

"Emma..."

"Please tell me it's not true," Emma stared into Mary Margaret's tear-filled eyes, her own starting to water. "Please..."

Mary Margaret didn't answer. She just stood up, sat on the edge of the hospital bed, and carefully pulled Emma into her arms. Emma's mouth felt dry, yet, tears were starting to flow from her eyes and she placed her head onto Mary Margaret's warm shoulder, and began to sob. She clutched onto the back of Mary Margaret's shirt.

She kept hearing somebody repeat something over, and over. They had begun to shout it, and Emma was about to ask Mary Margaret who was speaking, when, with a sudden awareness, she realised that it was herself.

"...Why? ...Why? _Why?!_"

* * *

Mary Margaret took one last glance at Emma's sleeping figure, and carefully shut the door behind her.

"How is she?"

Mary Margaret turned from the door to face Graham. She shook her head.

"She didn't take it well. I mean, nobody would ever take that kind of news well, but..." She shook her head again.

"I think that you handled it well," Doctor Whale praised. "I know that it's a doctor's job to tell the patient of the bad news, but I think she took it a lot better hearing it from you."

Mary Margaret gave him a small grateful smile. Suddenly, a muffled beeping sound rang out.

"Ah, that's my pager. I'd better get back to work," Doctor Whale said, pulling the device out from his coat pocket. "I'll talk to you later, Mary Margaret, and give you all the details of Emma's circumstances then."

Mary Margaret watched in confusion as the doctor walked away and turned to Graham.

"Why would he tell me all the details...?" She began to ask, but trailed off when Graham reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out an envelope.

"This was sitting on my desk this afternoon," He said, handing her the envelope. Mary Margaret took it and pulled the letter out, reading over the top half quickly. Her eyes widened.

"But - but this is saying that I -"

"Was accepted to become a foster parent?" Graham finished. "Yes. And I know that you never even got the chance to apply."

"So, what does this mean?" Mary Margaret asked, feeling like her head was spinning.

"It means that whoever sent in the application clearly wanted you to become a foster parent. Read the rest of it."

Mary Margaret glanced back down and continued to read.

Her heart stopped.

"I... I was accepted to... I'm now Emma's foster mother?"

"If you want to, we can send this letter back to the State and tell them that it was a misunderstanding-"

"No!" Mary Margaret all but shouted. She cleared her throat and staring back down at the letter, she whispered. "No... This is perfect."

"Somebody may be trying to manipulate something here," Graham warned.

Mary Margaret shook her head. "I don't care. I need to take care of Emma. I don't care how. This girl needs a stable home."

Graham smiled gently and nodded. "I thought you might say that."


	11. Lovable - Part 3

**Just wanted to clear something up - in the last chapter, I wrote in the Author's Note that "I have ****very limited knowledge at what is ahead in the chapter." What I meant to say, was that I have very limited knowledge about hospital procedures and medical information, not the story. I still have a lot planned out for the story; it's not over yet! ;D**

******And, thank you all once again for your reviews!**

* * *

Chapter 11 - Lovable - Part 3

_Don't take these words to heart;_

_Know that you are lovable, beautiful, wonderfully made,_

_A child of God, no matter what the hurt inside of them might say._

_So, hold on to the truth:_

_That you are lovable._

Emma's hospital room door creaked open. The girl herself slept through the intrusion, completely unaware.

The person carefully poked their head through the gap and peered at the sight that lay in front of them.

There she was.

Just lying there.

A broken doll.

Young Emma Swan.

And she was sleeping peacefully.

With a slight tilt of their head, the person looked further into the dark hospital room.

They heard the machines beep through the silence.

They saw the emptiness of the room.

And then they saw the woman in the chair next to the bed. She was clutching Emma's hand in hers. Her eyes were closed as well, fast asleep.

Though the room was radiating an undertone of sadness, it was also filled with an inkling of hope.

And the person smiled in relief.

* * *

Emma blinked as she opened her eyes. Everything was bright, and white, and she felt disorientated. She was lying on her back in a bed, and she turned her head to the right to face a window which had sunlight streaming through. Suddenly, the events of the day before flooded through her.

Her foster father had been arrested. She was in the hospital. Broken ribs, punctured lung.

She felt a wave of relief flow through her at the thought of never having to go back to her foster father before it turned sour at another memory.

She had been pregnant. She had a miscarriage. She had lost _a baby_.

She tried to swallow the lump in her throat.

Everything was coming back to her now.

She had gone to Neal's place after school. He had scared her unintentionally and she slapped him. Then, she ran to Mary Margaret's apartment. Mary Margaret had been getting too close to the truth so she had left. Her foster father had beaten her up and the Sheriff had saved her along with Mary Margaret. She woke up in the hospital and Mary Margaret had comforted her about the baby. And then she must have had fallen asleep afterwards because she could remember no more after that.

Emma glanced around the now empty room and felt tears well up. Mary Margaret wasn't here now. She was all alone again.

"Emma?"

Emma raised her head from where it was resting on the pillow to look at the open doorway.

Her eyes widened at the person standing there.

Neal.

He was leaning on the doorframe, sorrow and pity in his eyes. Emma hoped that he hadn't been standing there long. He didn't take a step inside, but raised his arm to hold up a backpack. "You left this at my place."

"Oh. Thanks." Emma swallowed back her tears and quickly pressed the button next to her bed to elevate it into a sitting position. She suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable. Neal probably had no idea why she was in the hospital. He had no idea that her foster father had been abusing her. And he had no idea that she had been pregnant with _his_ baby.

Neal cautiously walked over to the bed and placed the backpack on the small table beside the bed.

"Thanks," Emma said again, feeling unsure of what to say to him. "Um, you can sit down if you want."

"Sure."

He took a seat on the chair and ran a hand through his dark locks, Emma watching him.

Emma swallowed. "I'm sorry I hit you yesterday."

"Don't worry about it; I was out of line anyway," Neal reassured. He frowned and after a long moment, finally asked, "What happened to you?"

Emma stared at her clasped hands resting in her lap.

"My foster father. He, um. He had been abusing me." Her mouth felt dry. This was the first time she had ever said it out loud and the words were making her feel slightly sick. "I have some broken ribs and one of them punctured my lung. I'm allowed to leave the hospital in maybe a week." Sticking to the medical side of things made the situation seem less confronting.

She looked over to Neal. His face was unreadable. Then he looked shocked.

"What?" He breathed.

Emma nodded, grimacing as she tried to sit up further and felt a tug of pain in her torso.

"But... How... Why... Why didn't you tell me?" Neal asked, sounding frustrated, angry and on the verge of tears all at once.

Emma bowed her head. "I... I don't know. I didn't want him to hurt you. I was scared..."

Neal's head suddenly snapped up. Emma turned her head to look at him.

"What did you say?" He asked.

Emma furrowed her brow. "Huh?"

"You said you were scared, didn't you?" Neal repeated, looking sad. "What you meant to say was that... yesterday, _I_ scared you? Did I remind you of him?"

Emma avoided his gaze. She heard Neal give a shuddering exhale.

"I'm... Emma, I'm so, _so_ sorry."

The next words out of Emma's mouth surprised both of them. "I... I was pregnant."

A shocked silence filled the room. Emma refused to look away from Neal, wanting to see his reaction, yet dreading it at the same time.

Neal finally spoke, his voice shaky. "...Was?"

Emma swallowed thickly. "Yeah. I - I lost it."

"Was... was it mine?" Neal pressed, looking slightly sick.

Emma nodded, somehow managing to hold in the sob that was trying to escape her lips. She managed to whisper, "I think I need some time alone."

Neal nodded, looking pale. "Okay. Yeah. Yeah, I need to think about this, too." And he stood up and walked towards the door. Upon opening it, he stopped and turned around.

"Can I - can I visit you later?" He asked, looking into Emma's eyes.

Emma shook her head, unable to speak in fear of crying. She gazed back into Neal's eyes and the unspoken message was reached.

Neal bowed his head. Emma saw a tear drip from his chin and land on the tiled floor. "I understand." He sounded choked and Emma had to swallow a lump in her throat. He continued quietly, "Maybe one day we can see each other under better circumstances. Just know that I'm sorry. And I... I love you."

Emma nodded as her now ex-boyfriend gently closed the door behind him.

"I'm sorry, too," She whispered.

* * *

Mary Margaret walked down the hospital hallway, styrofoam coffee cup in hand. She glanced at her watch. 8.30 am. Emma should be awake by now.

She sighed and stretched out her back as she walked. It had been a long night. The chair next to Emma's hospital bed was not all that comfortable, yet Mary Margaret had refused to leave the girl's side.

As she reached the end of the hallway and caught sight of Emma's hospital room door, it opened. Mary Margaret stopped and watched as a lanky teenage boy stepped out. He was wearing an absolutely devastated expression on his face as he quickly slipped past her in the hallway, and Mary Margaret's eyebrows rose in concern. She was unable to say anything to him however, because he had already disappeared down another hallway. With a frown, she continued on to her destination and carefully knocked on Emma's door. A slightly croaky, "come in", was spoken and Mary Margaret pushed open the door.

Emma was sitting in the bed, and it was only when she met eyes with the young girl that Mary Margaret could really see how miserable looking Emma was. Mary Margaret sighed.

"What happened?" She asked as she sat beside Emma. "Who was that?"

Emma gazed at her for a few moments. "You came back."

Mary Margaret blinked. "What?"

"You came back." Emma sounded astounded and Mary Margaret smiled, feeling a little bewildered.

"Of course I did."

"I thought I was alone," Emma confessed softly. "I thought... Neal was the last one who cared."

Neal?

"Was that the young man that was just here?" Mary Margaret asked.

Emma nodded.

"Your... boyfriend?"

Emma nodded once more. Mary Margaret felt slightly heartsick upon receiving this new information.

_The father of Emma's deceased baby._

Mary Margaret swallowed. "Did you tell him?"

"Yeah," Emma said quietly. "He needed time to think."

"Oh."

"I don't even know how he knew I was here, but I don't want to drag him into all of this. I don't want him to get hurt. He doesn't deserve it."

Mary Margaret frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I broke up with him." Emma sounded defeated and Mary Margaret's eyes widened at the confession.

"Is this about the baby, or is this about the fight that you two had yesterday?" Mary Margaret asked, and then backtracked over her words.

Goodness, had it really only been _yesterday_ that Emma had come to her apartment, crying over the fact that she had hit her boyfriend?

Emma frowned. "Everything, I guess. I don't want him to get hurt."

"Emma, you keep saying you don't want him to get hurt, but who's going to hurt him?" Mary Margaret asked, careful in what she said. "Your foster father is locked up, never to hurt anyone ever again. What's the real problem, honey?"

Emma looked away for a moment. "I- Neal... He just... reminds me too much of my foster father. And with the baby..."

Mary Margaret nodded. "It's okay to be scared after everything you've been through. In fact, I would be a little worried if you were acting completely fine after all of this. But you're safe now. You're not in any more danger."

"How do you know?" Emma asked, sounding slightly frustrated. Mary Margaret frowned as Emma continued, growing angrier as she spoke, "How do you know that I'm safe? How do you know that the next foster home I'm going to go to isn't as crap as this one? And when those foster parents get sick of me, I'll be going straight to a group home where it'll suck even worse than the last place. And that's how my life is going to be - all I'll be is a stupid punching bag. A good for nothing, hopeless -"

"Stop it!" Mary Margaret cried. "Emma! Honey, listen to me! You _will_ be safe!"

"How do you -"

"You're coming home with me!"

Emma stared openly at Mary Margaret. "What?"

"I... I got permission to be your foster mother," Mary Margaret explained, deciding to leave out the part where she didn't even send in an application.

"You... What?" Emma seemed speechless and Mary Margaret nodded, feeling fear grow up in the pit of her stomach. Emma didn't look too happy by this news... What if she had made a terrible mistake by assumption?

"You... want me?" Emma's voice squeaked slightly on the last word and Mary Margaret felt her tense muscles relax in relief. Emma wasn't scared for Mary Margaret to be her foster mother, she was feeling insecure.

"Yes, Emma. I want to look after you."

Emma's eyes were beginning to fill with tears. "But nobody _ever_ wants me."

Mary Margaret felt her heart go out to this young girl. She reached forward and ran a hand through Emma's unruly hair. She smiled. "_I_ want you, Emma. You won't ever have to be alone again."

* * *

"Ready to go, Emma?" Mary Margaret asked, clutching the handles of the wheelchair.

Emma sighed. After a week of treatment at the hospital, Emma was finally given permission to leave. Mary Margaret had just signed the release papers and they were ready to go - if it weren't for the fact that Emma had to use the wheelchair. "Do you really have to wheel me to the car? I'm not helpless - I can walk!"

"Yes, it's the hospital's policy," Mary Margaret explained, clearly trying not to smirk and Emma twisted her mouth into a scowl and carefully sat in the offending wheelchair seat. Mary Margaret handed Emma her backpack to hold and began pushing her out the door.

"I look like an invalid," She moaned as Mary Margaret pushed her down the hallway.

"Sweetheart, in case you hadn't realised, this is a hospital. I don't think people will care too much if you look like an invalid." Emma could hear the smile in Mary Margaret's voice and she shrugged, defeated.

"Just get me out of here."

Mary Margaret just chuckled.

As they got closer to the front doors of the hospital, they passed Doctor Whale who gave Emma a small wave, and for Mary Margaret, a seductive wink.

"What was that about?" Emma asked, climbing out of the wheelchair upon reaching the front doors.

Mary Margaret shook it off. "Oh, nothing. Are you okay? Do you need help getting to the car?"

"I'm fine." Emma suspected that Mary Margaret was trying to change the subject, and she just allowed her to. She would probably find out sooner or later anyway.

* * *

"Are you alright to walk up the stairs?" Mary Margaret asked worriedly.

The two were standing inside of the apartment building, gazing at the large flight of stairs ahead of them. The late afternoon sun was beaming down on them and all Emma felt like doing was going straight to bed. But first, she had to climb the stairs.

Emma grimaced but nodded. "I have to. It's not like you have an elevator."

Mary Margaret smiled and readjusted Emma's backpack on her back before gripping one of Emma's arms to support her, and they began the seemingly long trek up the stairs.

"It's times like this where I regret buying an apartment on the top floor."

Emma nodded, focusing on her breathing as she climbed. Her ribs were screaming at her, and she winced.

"Just tell me if you need to stop, Emma," Mary Margaret advised. "There's no rush."

Emma nodded but said, "I'm fine. She didn't want Mary Margaret to think she was weak. Each step was like torture, and Emma found herself gasping in pain by the eleventh stair. Mary Margaret stopped, which in turn caused Emma to stop.

"Let's take a break, huh?" Mary Margaret said lightly, gently tugging Emma to lean back against the wall and then releasing her arm. Emma did so gratefully, taking deep breaths.

"Sorry," She quickly apologised once she caught her breath.

"Don't apologise," Mary Margaret replied earnestly. "Please, just stop when you need to."

Emma nodded, feeling kind of silly. After a few moments, she felt better and told Mary Margaret, "I'm ready to keep going."

* * *

It took them a total of ten minutes - ten _excruciating_ minutes - to walk up the flight of stairs and as soon as they had reached the top, Mary Margaret pulled out her keys and quickly unlocked the apartment door with a soft, "Home, sweet home."

_Home._

Emma peered into the apartment, cautiously stepping inside after Mary Margaret. It looked the exact same as it had from the last time Emma had been there. Mary Margaret mustn't have spent much time here while Emma had been in the hospital. Somebody actually cared enough...

Mary Margaret placed Emma's backpack on the kitchen table and turned to face the girl.

"Would you like to rest first, shower, or do you want me to give you a tour of the apartment?" Mary Margaret asked.

Emma weighed her options. She wasn't feeling too bad, and she did want to know her way around the apartment. She told Mary Margaret the latter, and the woman smiled and began showing her around the bottom floor first. There was the kitchen. Mary Margaret's bedroom. The bathroom. And then they moved to the single bedroom upstairs.

"This is your room," Mary Margaret announced and Emma peered inside.

It was kind of bare, with only a bed and a dresser in it, but Emma felt right at home as soon as she stepped in.

"I'm sorry; I haven't really had time to fix it up -"

"It's perfect," Emma heard herself saying. She turned to Mary Margaret, suddenly feeling herself blush and the woman smiled at her.

"Let me just change the sheets for you, and you can get some rest."

"Thanks. And not just for this," Emma blurted out. She immediately felt shy and her face felt like it was heating up even more. "I mean everything. Thanks."

Mary Margaret shook her head with a smile. "You don't have to thank me. I'll always be here for you."

* * *

Mary Margaret quietly peered through the slightly-open door.

Emma was sleeping, snuggled up to the blankets on the bed. Mary Margaret felt herself swallow at the child's innocent face. She wasn't sure what had possessed to go and check on Emma, but she smiled softly at her small, sleeping figure and carefully closed the door, slowly walking back down the stairs.

She wasn't sure if she was ready to be a foster mother. To be a mom. But as soon as she had seen Emma's calm, peaceful, sleeping face, she knew she had made the right choice.


	12. All I Need To Know

**I am so sorry for the wait! I've just gotten a new job, so things will be a bit hectic and updates may be a little slower for a while, but I love this story and will make time for it! Thank you all for your patience and reviews!**

**Dedicated to crowned tiger, who's just gotten some fantastic news!**

* * *

Chapter 12 - All I Need To Know

_I don't know why it's so hard to swallow our pride._

_And I don't know how many wrongs make a right._

_I don't know the reason - sometimes it just feels so good to cry._

_And I don't know which way the wind will blow._

_But you're here with me -_

_And that's all I need to know._

Emma opened her eyes blearily to the gentle sunlight. Her gaze ever so slowly focused on her surroundings and she had to blink a few times to clear the fog from her eyes.

This wasn't the hospital.

Emma took a moment to analyse her surroundings.

The walls were a cream colour.

The window was smaller, yet more sunlight streamed through.

The bed sheets were softer.

She wasn't wearing a stiff hospital gown.

Glancing down at herself, she realised that she was wearing a slightly baggy night shirt and pyjama pants that were too long for her. And it was with wide, delighted eyes that she remembered that they were Mary Margaret's clothes. She felt the beginnings of a happy smile stretch out onto her lips and she ran her hand along the soft bed sheets.

She was staying with Mary Margaret.

She carefully slid out of bed, mindful of her still aching ribs and slowly climbed down the few stairs. Mary Margaret was standing at the kitchen counter, preparing breakfast. She didn't seem to have seen Emma standing at the base of the stairs yet, and Emma took the time to study her. Mary Margaret was already dressed, and Emma wondered what the time was. She glanced over at the clock on the wall. Her eyes widened at the sight of the time and she let out a tiny gasp.

_9.30 am?!_

Mary Margaret jumped slightly, looking startled as she glanced up sharply at Emma's gasp.

"Oh, Emma, you startled me," Mary Margaret said sounding slightly out of breath. "Are you okay?"

Emma nodded quickly. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just, uh, didn't expect it to be so late in the morning."

"You needed rest," Mary Margaret simply stated and continued to mix some thick substance in a large bowl.

Emma just stood at the base of the stairs, unsure as to whether she would be welcome to sit down at the booth and watch Mary Margaret, or whether she should just play it safe and sit at the table. The decision was made for her when Mary Margaret gestured towards the booth chair in front of her. Emma smiled awkwardly and carefully sat down.

"So, uh, what are you making?" Emma asked a little hesitantly.

Mary Margaret smiled without looking up. "Pancakes. I wasn't too sure what sort of food you'd like for breakfast, so I figured it best to play it safe." Suddenly she stopped stirring and looked up at Emma with a worried expression. "Oh, you aren't allergic to pancakes, are you?"

Emma chuckled and shook her head. "No, I'm not."

Mary Margaret sighed in relief and resumed her mixing. "I did have a read over of your file, but I wasn't too sure about any allergies..."

Emma tried not to think too hard about the fact that Mary Margaret had now read her file which was stuffed full of every incident in her life involving abuse and fighting. She shook her head once more. "I'm not allergic to anything. Nothing that I know of."

Mary Margaret looked up once more with a smile. "That's good."

The room was filled with a peaceful silence as Mary Margaret continued to stir and eventually pour the batter into a frying pan. Emma watched quietly, and couldn't help but wonder if this was what it would have felt like to have a mother make breakfast in the mornings for her.

* * *

After breakfast and painkillers for her broken ribs, Emma took her plate and cup over to the sink to wash. A hand reached over and gently plucked the dish away from her, and Emma swivelled around to find Mary Margaret directly behind her.

"I'll do that, Emma. Why don't you go and shower?" Mary Margaret suggested and Emma found herself agreeing. She had felt too exhausted the night before and didn't get a chance to shower. She had just simply accepted a pair of pyjamas and gone straight to bed.

After grabbing her clothes that she had worn from the hospital, Emma headed over to the bathroom and closed the door. She placed the clothes on the sink bench and turned around to turn on the shower. The water started running and Emma carefully slid out of her pyjama shirt, but as she turned to place it onto the sink, she accidentally knocked into the hard edge of the sink, effectively hitting her broken ribs. Emma let out a pained cry and clutched onto her sides.

It hurt like _hell_.

She took a few short, painful breaths and crouched down on the ground. She felt like she couldn't move until she got her lungs working again and let out a few sharp gasps at an attempt to breathe properly.

"Emma? Are you okay?" Mary Margaret's voice suddenly called through the door.

Emma shook her head in response, but after realising that Mary Margaret couldn't see her through the bathroom door, gasped out, "Not really..."

"What happened? Can I come in?"

Emma painfully reached up and grabbed her night shirt from the sink and managed to slip it back over her head with a groan. She clutched her ribs once again, the pain returning with vigour.

"...Yeah, come in."

Emma watched as the door was hesitantly pushed open, revealing Mary Margaret's worried face. She knelt beside Emma and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"What happened?" Mary Margaret asked again, sounding panicked. Emma supposed she probably looked like crap, all hunched over and groaning. The pain was starting to fade slightly and Emma raised her head up.

"Hit the damn sink," She grumbled, feeling annoyed with herself. She was such a klutz.

Mary Margaret still looked concerned, however. "Do you think you need to see a doctor?"

"No," Emma shrugged it off and attempted to stand up, leaning heavily on the offending bench. "I'm fine." She tried to stand up straight to prove her point, but her ribs cried out in protest and she hunched over again with a sharp, "Ow!"

Mary Margaret gently pushed Emma by the shoulders to sit her down on the edge of the bathtub. "Just stay still, Emma. You just need to wait for the painkillers you took to set in."

"How long will that take?" Emma asked begrudgingly.

"Not too long," Mary Margaret confirmed. "You took them about ten minutes ago. Just try to relax."

Emma nodded and they sat together, waiting. Emma just focused on her breathing; in, and out, in, and out. She continued to do so until she felt the effects of the painkillers ever so slowly kick in. She allowed herself to breathe normally again, and with a startling realisation, she suddenly wondered how she hadn't noticed that Mary Margaret had been rubbing her back in slow circles. It felt comforting.

"I think I'm good," Emma stated after a few moments of relishing in the warm touch, and Mary Margaret nodded, looking thankful. She pulled her hand away to tuck a few fly away hairs behind her ear.

"That's good. Will you need any help with replacing the bandages after the shower?" Mary Margaret asked. Emma flushed. She hadn't really thought about it, but she probably would. She hesitantly nodded and Mary Margaret gave her a reassuring look.

"Be careful," the woman offered as she stood up and gently closed the door behind her, allowed Emma some privacy. Emma sat there for a few moments, taking a few more deep breaths before standing up as well.

"Thanks," She whispered quietly.

* * *

After her shower, Mary Margaret helped her change the bandages on her ribs. It wasn't as awkward as Emma had initially thought it would be, and once Mary Margaret had left the room to let her get dressed, Emma then re-changed into the clothes she wore from the hospital and slowly came out of the bathroom.

"Emma?"

Mary Margaret was sitting on the couch, patiently waiting for her with an expectant look on her face. She gestured toward the empty seat, and Emma hesitated before going to sit on the couch beside her.

"I need to ask you something," Mary Margaret began reluctantly, a serious look on her face and Emma cracked a smile.

"You're not pregnant, are you?" Emma tried to joke, but it immediately fell flat upon remembrance of the events of the week before. Emma's face fell at Mary Margaret's pitiful expression, but said, "Sorry. What is it?"

Mary Margaret took a deep breath before explaining, "Graham called earlier to check up on you. He has the key to your old foster parents' house and he was wondering whether you would like to go and get all of your belongings?"

Emma gaped at her for a few seconds. Mary Margaret grew an uncomfortable look on her face and she carefully asked Emma, "Would... you be okay with that?"

Emma blinked a few times, feeling unsure. "I... I don't know..."

"If you don't want to, that's okay!" Mary Margaret rushed to reassure. "If the place will bring back bad memories, then I'll be fine to go by myself. It's just that you're going to need some more clothes and if you would like your personal belongings back..."

Mary Margaret go by herself?

No way in hell.

Emma shook her head. "No, I'll be alright. I do want to get a few things."

Mary Margaret shot her an uncertain look, but Emma just ignored it and asked, "When did you want to go?"

Mary Margaret still looked unconvinced but nodded and said, "Soon. I just need to call someone..."

* * *

Mary Margaret shifted uncomfortably as she watched the scene before her. David had just knocked on their front door and was now standing in front of Emma, who looked just as awkward as he probably felt. Mary Margaret opened her mouth to say something when David finally held out his hand and said, "I think I'd better re-introduce myself. I'm David."

"Emma," She mumbled back and hesitantly took his hand to shake.

He smiled. "I see that you're on the mend."

"Yeah, well..." Emma shot Mary Margaret a look and she decided to take over.

"David's here to help us bring your things back here," She explained, walking up behind him and placing a hand on his arm.

"Oh. Thanks." Emma smiled awkwardly.

David cleared his throat and Mary Margaret announced, "Shall we go?"

* * *

Arriving at the large house made Mary Margaret shiver. All three of them stood in front of the front door, two of them lost in thought and memory. Even though it had been over a week ago since she had last been here, Mary Margaret couldn't help but remember every single detail about this house. How cold it looked. How lifeless it was. How inside the large house was a crying young girl begging for mercy at the hands of her foster parents.

"I've got the keys here." David's announcement pulled her out of her sorrowful thoughts and she focused back on the present. He slid the key into the lock and with a click, the door opened. Mary Margaret swallowed at the sight of the hallway.

It was where Emma had had her final beating.

It was where she had lost her baby.

Mary Margaret closed her eyes for a second, silently sending Emma a promise.

_That was the last time anyone will ever make you feel worthless. I'll always protect you._

Mary Margaret opened her eyes just as Emma slipped past them to walk down the hallway. Mary Margaret could see that Emma was making a point of not looking at the hallway floor, ignoring the memory of what had happened in there. The girl reached out a hand and opened a door further down the hallway.

"This is my room," She said, stepping inside, and Mary Margaret and David headed over to the small room. It was a small, empty room. There was only a bed and a wardrobe, but Emma dropped to her knees beside the bed and leaned down to look under it with a quiet hiss.

"Oh, Emma, allow me?" David was now at the girl's side, peering under the bed. Emma sat back up, clutching her ribs.

"Thanks," Emma said thankfully and pointed somewhere under her bed. "Just under there. The cardboard box."

While David dug around under the bed, Mary Margaret came up behind Emma and gently laid a supportive hand on her shoulder. Emma glanced up at her with a small, shy smile.

"This one?" David pulled his body back out from under the bed, a large, slightly dusty cardboard box cradled in his hands, and Emma nodded.

"All I need to get now is my clothes, and that's it."

Mary Margaret's eyebrows furrowed. "That's it? That's all of your things?"

"Yeah," Emma replied. Mary Margaret noticed the slight edge in her voice. "That's everything."

David stood up and headed over to the wardrobe and pulled it open. He grew an uncomfortable look on his face at what was inside.

"Oh. Er. Maybe I should take this to the car and you can handle the clothes, Mary Margaret?"

Mary Margaret tilted her head to the side in bewilderment as David practically raced out of the room. She shook her head and walked over to the wardrobe, peering inside. She caught sight of the offending items and held back a giggle.

"What's wrong?" Emma asked a little nervously. Mary Margaret shook her head, unable to hold back the amused smile.

"Oh, David just gets a little embarrassed when it comes to girl's clothing."

Mary Margaret watched as Emma stood up and walked over. A smile grew on Emma's face as she spotted her bras and underwear folded on the floor of the wardrobe.

"I think I can handle these," Emma said, her smile turning into a slight smirk, and Mary Margaret laughed.

* * *

Now back in the safety of the slightly cold car, Emma felt like she could finally breathe. Being back inside that house had brought out too many painful memories - memories that she did not care to _ever_ relive. She was just glad that she had Mary Margaret and even David there with her, otherwise things may not have been as quick and painless as they had been.

Ten minutes later, they pulled up in front of Mary Margaret's apartment and Emma's ears pricked as Mary Margaret asked David, "Would you like to come in?"

Emma flicked her eyes from the window to see David's response.

He smiled, shifting his body slightly to face Mary Margaret. "Thanks, but it's getting late. I wouldn't want to intrude."

"You wouldn't be intruding."

Mary Margaret and David both turned their heads as best as they could from the front seats of the car to look at Emma.

Emma felt wary for a second, wondering why they were looking at her like that.

Until she realised -

Oh. That wasn't Mary Margaret that had said that.

"Uh, I mean, I don't mind. If you want to come in. I don't mind," Emma fumbled, her eyes flicking to Mary Margaret. Mary Margaret was gazing at her, surprise in her eyes, but she nodded anyway, and looked back at David, who shrugged.

Minutes later, the three of them were slowly walking up the stairs - well, more like Mary Margaret and David were walking; Emma was pretty much hobbling - and soon, they were inside the apartment.

Mary Margaret immediately offered to make hot chocolate for the three of them and she set to work while David sat down at the kitchen table. Emma stood, watching the scene lay out before her. She felt a little uncomfortable at the fact that she had pressed for David to come in, and didn't sit down at the table until David gestured for Emma to sit, and she did, albeit a bit hesitantly.

"I bet you're glad that you've got all your stuff back," David offered.

Emma nodded. "Yeah." She glanced over to the kitchen where Mary Margaret was still busy making hot chocolate.

David seemed to notice Emma's slight awkwardness because he cleared his throat and asked, "So, Emma. What sort of things do you like to do?"

Emma blinked at him for a second before asking, "As in, my hobbies?" At David's nod, she hesitantly said, "I guess I like to read."

David smiled. "What do you like to read?"

"She likes fairy tales," Mary Margaret called from the kitchen, a smile growing on her face.

Emma felt her face heat up in embarrassment. "Mary Margaret!"

David laughed jovially. "There's nothing wrong with fairy tales! They're all filled with good morals and are great stories to read. Plus, true love," He winked at Emma. "That would be an amazing thing to discover."

Mary Margaret smiled adoringly as she came round the table, dropping off a mug of hot chocolate for each of them, and sat beside David, slipping a hand onto his shoulder. He smiled at her, gazing into her eyes, and Emma quickly sipped from her mug to avoid looking at what seemed to be an intimate moment for them.

"Ow!" She hissed, burning her tongue on the chocolate and the moment between Mary Margaret and David was broken.

"Careful, honey, it's hot," Mary Margaret told her unnecessarily, her brow furrowing in concern.

Emma scowled. "Yeah, thanks for the warning." She blew on the mug and carefully took another sip. Thankfully, she could still taste the combined flavours of the chocolate and cinnamon and smiled subconsciously. At least her taste buds were still there.

"Emma likes cinnamon in her hot chocolate, too," Mary Margaret told David with a smile, pointing towards the cinnamon stick in Emma's mug.

"Really?" David asked, his eyebrows raised in what looked like excitement.

Slightly burnt tongue forgotten, Emma fought back a chuckle as she placed her mug down on the table. "What is it with you guys and cinnamon?"

"I guess it's just a little quirk of ours," Mary Margaret said, smiling at Emma, and then David. David held her gaze for a moment before reaching up to tuck a few strands of Mary Margaret's short hair behind her ear.

This time, Emma couldn't tear her eyes away and felt the beginnings of a smile grow on her face. "Yeah. Just a quirk of ours."


	13. The Last Night

**Time has gone quickly, hasn't it? I'm really sorry for the slow update - I blame writer's block and work. But never fear; my muse has returned, and hopefully updates will be a little bit more regular! Thank you all for all your support and encouragement! Even just seeing that I have new followers and favourites on this story brightens my day :)**

* * *

Chapter 13 - The Last Night

_This is the last night you'll spend alone -_

_Look me in the eyes so I know you know_

_I'm everywhere you want me to be._

_The last night you'll spend alone -_

_I'll wrap you in my arms and I won't let go._

_I'm everything you need me to be._

_The last night away from me._

He was coming.

He was coming to get her.

Emma panted as she raced up the stairs of Mary Margaret's apartment.

Her vision was blurry.

Her breathing was ragged.

Her chest was heaving.

Her head throbbed.

He was coming.

_He was coming to get her._

Upon reaching the front door, Emma yanked it open, and slammed it shut behind her. She leaned against it heavily and just stared at the floor, breathing hard as she tried to clear her head and stop the panic.

She was safe.

She got away.

Suddenly, someone cleared their throat loudly and Emma jumped in shock, snapping her head up. Her eyes widened as she reviewed her surroundings.

This...

This_ wasn't_ Mary Margaret's apartment.

It was her foster parents' home.

And standing in that damned hallway was her foster father himself. His face was full of rage and she felt herself quiver in fear.

"I'm sorry I'm home late," Emma found herself saying. "I just -"

Her foster father's eyes narrowed as he took one step towards her and bellowed, "I don't give a damn!"

Emma felt terror rising in her chest and she had to suppress the urge to turn around and race back out the front door.

"I don't care if you apologise a million times, what matters is that you get home on time!"

"I- I know, but -" Emma stuttered out, awkwardly clutching her school bag to her chest as she stood in front of the closed doorway. Wait - her school bag? When did she pick that up?

"If you live in this house, you have to follow my rules!" He continued to shout at her.

Emma's eyebrows furrowed together in fear. "I'm sorry, I just -"

"You're sorry?!" He scoffed loudly. "Oh, you're sorry? _I'm_ gonna make you sorry!"

He tore forward at a lightning pace, Emma having no time to get out of the way, and began to throw punch after punch at Emma's face. Emma couldn't help but scream as she dropped her school bag in fear as he moved downward, hurling his thick fists at her ribs.

He was too close.

Way too close.

She needed out.

But... _how_?

"You're gonna die tonight! I'm going to _kill_ you!" Her foster father leaned back, stopping his abuse for a second to pant heavily.

_"If you ever need me..."_

This might be her only chance. _She_ might be her only chance.

"Mary Margaret!" Emma screamed as loudly as she could. "Mary Margaret! Help me! Help!"

"Shut up! Little bitch! No one is going to hear you," He sneered, leaning in close to Emma's face. "It's just you. And. Me."

With that, he grabbed her around the neck with both hands. Emma's eyes widened in shock and terror.

"No..." She choked out. "Mary... Margaret... Please... Help..."

**_"Emma?"_**

Emma's eyes darted around quickly.

"No one's coming! It's just you and me," Her foster father repeated scornfully, noticing her looking around in panic.

No... that was definitely Mary Margaret's voice! Where was she?!

"Look at me, bitch!"

Emma snapped her eyes back to her foster father who was suddenly holding something long and thin in his hand.

A knife.

Her eyes widened in shock.

"No..." She croaked again. It couldn't end like this! Could it?

Her foster father pulled the knife back, shoving her back against the wall for leverage with one hand, and plunged the knife forcefully into her stomach.

Emma gasped as best as she could at the immediate, horrific pain.

It was _excruciating_. Her stomach burned, and felt like it was on fire and melting all at once. Breathing hurt even more. Her foster father leaned in close - _too close_ - and whispered, "That's for your bastard baby."

Suddenly, a baby's piercing cries filled the air and Emma began to sob. Her vision was dimming and she managed to choke in a breath of air. Her foster father tightened his grip around her neck with a sneer, pushing the knife in further. The baby's cries grew louder and Emma wept along with it. She felt utterly sick; everything was starting to spin and she wrenched her eyes closed at the waves of pain.

**_"Come on, sweetheart; open your eyes."_**

Mary Margaret... She was here. But Emma refused to open her eyes.

It was too late.

Her baby was dead.

She sobbed even harder, not noticing that the pressure on her neck was slowly disappearing.

**_"Wake up, Emma. Open your eyes."_**

Emma's eyelids felt utterly heavy. It was too late. Her baby was dead. What was the point? Yet, she tried to obey the soft voice and whimpered at the effort. Suddenly, she noticed that the pressure of her foster father's meaty hands around her neck was gone, replaced by a soft hand on her head. The pain slowly dissipated from her stomach.

**_"Wake up, Emma. Wake up."_**

And Emma's eyes finally snapped open to her dark bedroom. She took a lungful of air in, inhaling deeply and exhaling quickly. She did this a few more times, gladly accepting the cool air into her body.

"Slow down, sweetheart. Breathe slowly!"

Emma sat up slowly, wincing at the sharp pain in her ribs, and finally turned to face Mary Margaret. The woman was sitting on the edge of Emma's bed looking extremely worried.

"Emma..." Mary Margaret breathed. "Are you alright? I heard you screaming..."

Emma began to nod, but then shook her head.

"Not really," She choked out.

Mary Margaret took her hand. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Emma shook her head once again. She clutched Mary Margaret's hand tightly and took in a shuddering breath.

"A nightmare. It was horrible," She whispered, seemingly forgetting her previous thoughts of not wanting to talk about it. "He was everywhere - I couldn't get away from him."

"Him?" Mary Margaret's eyebrows furrowed in confusion and then tightened in worry, her lips thin as she asked, "Your foster father?"

Emma nodded, the image of his face coming back in her mind, and she couldn't help the one tear that slipped from her eye.

And that was when her emotions broke past her thick walls and ran free.

Emma pulled her hand from Mary Margaret's, and pushed forward, wrapping her arms around the surprised woman's middle. She heard Mary Margaret inhale deeply, and a soft, "Oh, Emma..." was spoken before she felt the woman clutch Emma to her. The girl began to sob.

"You were there," Emma heard herself cry out. "You were there and you couldn't help me! He was hurting me! He _killed_ my baby! Not my baby..."

Mary Margaret's hand threaded itself in Emma's hair, gently weaving the blonde locks between her fingers. "It's okay..."

"No, it's not! I couldn't save my baby! It's all my fault..."

"Hey..." Mary Margaret pushed Emma back gently, clutching her face between her hands. She leaned forward slightly, trying to stay in Emma's line of vision. "There is one thing we have to make clear, Emma."

Emma swallowed back a sob, trying to listen. Mary Margaret continued, looking heartbroken as she repeated, "There is one thing we have to make clear. _You_ didn't kill your baby. None of this was your fault. None of it! Do you understand?"

Mary Margaret's expression was so fierce, so powerful, so _motherly_, and Emma just nodded. Mary Margaret closed her eyes, and gently pulled Emma back to her again. She ran a hand over Emma's hair and back in gently strokes, listening to the girl in her arms sob, and cry, and wail over her lost baby, all the while whispering,

"It's okay. It's not your fault. _It's okay_."

* * *

A soft knock on her door startled Emma awake. She peered out from under her thick blanket to the door as it slowly opened. Mary Margaret was standing in the slightly opened doorway, a soft expression on her face.

"Hey," She called out quietly. "How are you feeling?"

Emma sighed and sat up, leaning back against the headboard as the memories of last night flooded in. "Like crap. Like I've been punched in the gut."

Mary Margaret smiled slightly. "If you're up for breakfast, it's downstairs."

The last thing that Emma wanted was food, but she nodded anyway and slid out of bed, slowly following Mary Margaret down the stairs.

She carefully sat herself on the booth chair as Mary Margaret slid a bowl of cereal over to her. Mary Margaret leaned forward over the countertop to look into Emma's eyes.

"How are you feeling?" The woman asked.

Emma raised an eyebrow. "You just asked me that."

"I know, but I just want to make sure that you're okay. And be honest with me, sweetheart."

"I'm fine." Emma twirled the spoon in her hands distractedly.

"Do you have these nightmares often?" Mary Margaret questioned.

Emma shook her head. "Nope."

Mary Margaret gently plucked the spoon from Emma's fidgeting fingers and placed her hand over Emma's. "Listen, Emma, if these nightmares are a problem -"

"They're not," Emma insisted. She pulled her hand free from Mary Margaret's and held her hand out for her cereal spoon. "Can I eat now?"

Mary Margaret sighed and placed the spoon back into Emma's outstretched hand. She watched Emma for a few more seconds before pushing away from the counter.

"I know that you say that you're fine," Mary Margaret began. "But if you ever need anything - anything at all - I'm here for you."

Emma nodded and felt a small smile grow. "I know. Thanks."

Mary Margaret nodded and the room was filled with a silence which was filled slightly with the quiet clinking of Emma's spoon against the cereal bowl and the rustling of Mary Margaret drying dishes. Emma glanced at the clock, trying to avoid Mary Margaret's glances. She frowned upon seeing that the clock read 8.45 am.

"Uh, Mary Margaret?" Emma began. "Shouldn't you be at work?"

Mary Margaret glanced up. "No, I've taken this week off." Off Emma's unsure expression, she reassured, "It's really no problem; I have a substitute taking over."

Emma nodded hesitantly. "If you're sure..."

"Oh, that reminds me," Mary Margaret spoke up. "Dr. Whale called a little earlier to ask how you were going."

Emma raised an eyebrow. "How did work remind you of Dr. Whale?"

"He said that you should be fine to return to school as long as you take everything slow."

"Oh," Emma said, her heart sinking. She was probably really far behind in her school work, and she did not want to face the senior students again. Especially not Neal.

"You don't have to go back right away," Mary Margaret assured. "I understand if you need another day or two."

Emma just blinked a few times, trying to take it in. It seemed like Mary Margaret wanted her out of the house. As soon as Emma was back at school, Mary Margaret wouldn't have to worry about her. She could get back to her trouble-free life without Emma.

"I'm going to take a shower," Mary Margaret announced after a second. "Will you be alright?"

Emma nodded, not really hearing what Mary Margaret was saying.

"Okay." And then Mary Margaret was walking out of the kitchen. Emma took a deep breath and swivelled around on the booth chair.

"Wait, Mary Margaret!" Emma called out, feeling surprised at herself. It was like her mouth was working before her brain could catch up.

Mary Margaret quickly walked back to Emma, and stood in front of her. "What's wrong?"

"I- I just," Emma stammered. "When did you want me to go back to school?"

"Oh," Mary Margaret frowned. "Whenever you feel better. Why?"

Emma squirmed uncomfortably. "Just wondering."

"Emma, if you're not feeling well enough, that's okay," Mary Margaret reassured. "I don't care if it takes you another month; just as long as you feel ready."

Emma felt a slight smile grow on her face, her fears quelled, and she nodded. "Thanks."

Mary Margaret smiled. "Of course, honey."

"And, uh..." Emma hesitantly reached out her hand to take Mary Margaret's, but shied away and clasped onto Mary Margaret's shirt sleeve instead. She peered up at Mary Margaret. "Thanks for waking me up last night."

Mary Margaret's eyes grew soft. She leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Emma's head. Emma closed her eyes, revelling in the comforting gesture. Mary Margaret pulled away after a moment and smiled at Emma.

"Anytime."


	14. Unwell

**I'm simply overwhelmed at the response of the last chapter! Thank you all so much, and again, really sorry for the delay of updates. Things at work are incredibly busy and I'm super tired by the time I get home. I know, I know, you're all shaking your heads at me whilst saying, 'excuses, excuses...' ;) Anyway, please enjoy this chapter! Warning in advance for a lot of angst. **

**(And guess what? Just over two weeks until Once Upon a Time is back! EEP!)**

* * *

Chapter 14 - Unwell

_And I know;_

_I know they've all been talking about me,_

_I can hear them whisper_

_And it makes me think there must be something wrong with me._

_Out of all the hours thinking_

_Somehow, I've lost my mind._

_But I'm not crazy,_

_I'm just a little unwell -_

_I know right now you can't tell._

_But stay a while and maybe then you'll see a different side of me._

_I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired -_

_I know, right now you don't care._

_But soon enough you're gonna think of me -_

_And how I used to be._

Emma pulled her locker open with a slight grunt and dropped the two books she was carrying inside of it.

Halfway through another day.

It was a few days later; a Friday, thankfully, and Emma was back at school. Her ribs didn't feel any better, but she figured she'd better go back to school before she chickened out even further. So far, things weren't too bad. Sure, there was quite a bit of school work to catch up on, but she hadn't seen Neal or any of his senior friends, which was a good thing.

She slid a few books to the side of her locker, trying to find the textbooks for her last class, and spotted something red out of the corner of her eye.

Her little, red notebook.

It was just sitting there, forgotten and abandoned-looking. Emma's eyebrows furrowed, the slight feeling of angst filling up inside her. How could she have forgotten her notebook? It was one of the few things that she had of her birth parents. Angry at herself for being too preoccupied to think about her birth parents, she snatched it up and shoved it into her backpack. She grabbed the rest of her books and placed them into her backpack beside the notebook, and then shut her locker door. She quickly swivelled around to walk to her next class, but gasped as she rammed into someone.

"Watch where you're going!"

Emma's eyes widened.

Crap. She knew that voice.

She glanced up slightly to peer into the person's face. It was the senior that bullied her. The one who had been harassing her when Mary Margaret had saved her that day. The one who she had punched.

He sneered down at her, crossing his arms. "Well, well. Look who's back. Swan."

Emma rolled her eyes. "What do you want?"

"Nothing, nothing."

Emma eyed him doubtfully and tried to side-step him. He moved to block her path. She took a step the other way and he followed.

"What do you want?" She repeated in a growl.

He stepped forward, forcing Emma to take a step back. Her back hit the lockers and Emma felt panic start to grow. She forced it down, trying to keep up a brave front.

"I just want you to know that I'll be watching you," He said, his voice holding the slightest bit of malice.

Emma felt taken aback. "What?"

"You don't belong here."

"At school?" Emma balked. "Uh, yeah, I think I do."

By then a crowd was starting to grow. Emma peered around the senior, worry gnawing in her gut. This wasn't good...

"I mean," The senior was starting to raise his voice for the sake of the audience they were getting. "With a family."

"Fam- what the hell are you talking about?" Emma felt anger and frustration begin to grow. _This_ was the exact reason that she didn't want to go back to school.

"You don't deserve a family! You're not worthy enough for one!" He started to yell. "That woman that you were with the other day - your new foster mom? You don't belong with her."

"And why not?" Emma retorted, feeling her cheeks flush in anger.

"Because she doesn't know how screwed up you really are!"

Emma swallowed hard, his words sinking in painfully.

"You're a messed up, stupid bitch who doesn't deserve anything she's getting!"

Emma clenched her fists, trying to maintain an angry front.

"Why the hell would anyone want you?"

"Maybe Mary Margaret does want me!" Emma shouted desperately, her anger slipping away into fear. "She does! She wants me!"

The senior started to laugh. "Trust me, Swan. _No one_ wants you."

Emma started to slide down the wall, trying to block out his words.

"No..." She whispered.

The senior sneered. "Or maybe, the bitch is just taking you in for the money that you bring, being a foster kid and all."

The group that had gathered around were snickering and moving in closer. Emma held back a sob. Everything seemed to blur into one loud, overwhelming nightmare.

"Weak!"

"Selfish!"

"Ungrateful girl!"

_"Stupid bitch!"_

_"Worthless!" _

Emma raised her head at those words and gasped out at the sight in front of her. The senior had vanished and now, where he stood mere seconds ago, was - her foster father?

He sneered. _"Missed me?"_

She held back a scream of terror and quickly hid her face in her hands as the senior-turned foster father and some of the crowd continued to shout abuse at her, tears sliding down her face.

_"Don't you cry! I'll give you something to cry about!"_

She didn't know what to do, or how she would get out of this situation. All she could do was sit there and take it. The voice of her foster father floated through the air, joining the senior's voice in one joint horrific melody.

_"It's your fault!"_

_"Don't lie to me!"_

_"No one will ever, ever want you!"_

And then -

"What is going on?!" A voice shouted over the top of the students' voices.

Emma peered out from her hands quickly. Her foster father was gone, replaced once again by the senior and she felt a wave of relief and a sense of de ja vu as she saw the principal standing behind the crowd. The crowd hushed immediately upon seeing him. The principal glared at each one of them, before his eyes came to rest on Emma. His eyes softened ever so slightly.

"Miss Swan? Come with me."

Emma stood up, quickly swiping at her face as she tried to regulate her breathing. She walked over to stand behind the man.

"As for the rest of you," The Principal yelled, directing his gaze at the now-fearful students. "Detention! For two weeks!"

The group groaned and the Principal demanded, "Get to class! Before I double the length!"

As the group dispersed, Emma caught sight of the senior staring at her, an evil smirk on his face.

"Come with me, Miss Swan."

The Principal's voice snapped her away from the senior and she glanced up at the man, fear rising in her chest. She knew that her foster father wasn't really here at her school - but it had felt _so real_. Would she ever escape from his tight grasp? A sob escaped from her and the Principal sighed.

"I don't think you're in any state to be at school for the rest of the day. Let me call someone to come get you..."

* * *

Mary Margaret rushed into the high school, all thoughts of work vanishing from mind. She had received a phone call from the principal from Emma's school during her lunch break that he had a few issues to discuss about Emma, and that the girl in question was unwell and could Mary Margaret come and get her. Of course, Mary Margaret had dropped everything to get to Emma. She was grateful that she had informed the primary school of her current situation with Emma prior to this, and they had been more than understanding about it, and had told her that if she needed to leave at any time, there would be no problems. Mary Margaret knew for a fact that it would be a major problem, but thanked them regardless.

And now was definitely one of those times where she would gladly take them up on the offer.

She hurriedly walked towards the Principal's Office and knocked on the door with urgency.

A sombre, "come in," was called out, and Mary Margaret pushed open the door. The principal was sitting at his desk, hands folded and face solemn.

"Hello, Miss Blanchard, how are you?" He asked politely.

Mary Margaret felt like sighing in worry, but forced a smile and replied, "I'm well."

At his gesture to the chair in front of his desk, she sat down heavily in the chair and asked, "What happened? Is Emma okay?"

The principal leaned forward grimly. "I'm not sure if you have been aware of this, and I'm sorry that I wasn't aware of this before -" Mary Margaret's eyes widened. What had happened? Before she could panic, the principal continued, "Miss Swan has been a victim of bullying. I caught a group of students harassing her earlier. I don't think today was the first time, but the events today have led her to have several panic attacks. She is currently in the nurse's office."

Mary Margaret felt an icy wave of fear rush into her and she froze. Emma had been bullied the first time Mary Margaret had met her. How could Mary Margaret have overlooked this? She could have stopped it before it had gotten this bad. All she could manage to get out was, "Is she alright?"

"She's going to be fine," The principal reassured. "The nurse and I just recommend that she go home for the day to get some rest."

Mary Margaret nodded. "Of course."

"And as for the students that were bullying Miss Swan? You needn't worry. I will see to it that they never bully anyone ever again," The principal stated firmly and Mary Margaret breathed a sigh of relief, the slight feeling of fear still lingering.

"Thank you," She said gratefully, accepting his handshake as she stood up. "If you don't mind, I need to go and see Emma now."

The principal nodded in understanding and Mary Margaret gave him one last grateful smile as she closed the door behind her.

* * *

The nurse's office's door was slightly ajar when Mary Margaret reached it and she took a quick second to wait outside of the door and listen. The air was quiet and still. Yet, Mary Margaret felt a sense of urgency, as if something were about to happen. A storm, perhaps. Either way, Mary Margaret set her shoulders and pushed open the door to enter into the silent room.

Emma was sitting on the bed, wrapped up in what looked like three blankets, staring at the floor. Mary Margaret felt a strong pang of remembrance fill her of the first time they had met. The poor girl. If she had only known then what she knew now about Emma... She glanced to the side of the room to block out the feelings of regret, and noticed the nurse was sitting at a desk, typing away at a computer. Mary Margaret shifted her feet and cleared her throat. Startled, the nurse turned around to face Mary Margaret.

"Can I help you?"

Mary Margaret glanced at Emma quickly. Emma's head was now raised to look at the visitor in the doorway. A hopeful look filled her eyes and Mary Margaret smiled with what she hoped looked like an encouraging expression. She quickly turned back to the nurse.

"Yes, I'm here to collect my daugh- uh, foster daughter," Mary Margaret stumbled.

The nurse looked down at the file in her hands. "Mary Margaret Blanchard?"

Mary Margaret nodded and smiled at Emma, who smiled back.

"Is this your foster mother?" The nurse clarified with Emma.

"Yeah," Emma affirmed.

The nurse stood up and started to pull the mountain-load of blankets off of Emma.

"Make sure she gets a lot of rest over the weekend. Overexertion could cause exhaustion and lead to lower energy levels and more risk of panic attacks," The nurse commanded Mary Margaret, folding the blankets neatly.

Emma rolled her eyes. "I think I'll be fine. I don't need to rest all weekend."

The nurse gave Emma a stern look and Emma backed down. She crossed her arms, a slightly grumpy look on her face.

Mary Margaret fought back a chuckle. "I'll make sure she gets plenty of rest."

Emma frowned at her. "Seriously?"

"You still have injured ribs, honey. I agree that a little bit more rest will do you some good," Mary Margaret spoke.

"Fine."

The nurse pulled a pen out of her blouse pocket and scribbled something down on the file. "Do you mind waiting in the hall for a minute, Emma? I won't keep your foster mom too long."

Emma slid herself off the bed without saying a word, and walked past Mary Margaret, shutting the door behind her.

* * *

Emma sank against the wall outside of the nurse's office and nestled her chin into her knees. She sighed, and was glad when she saw that the clock in the hallway read 1.50 pm. That meant that all students were in the middle of their classes and she had some quiet until Mary Margaret got out of the nurse's office. She felt utterly humiliated knowing that Mary Margaret would be finding out about the panic attacks from the nurse. She had tried to appear indifferent about having the attacks but she knew that she wouldn't be able to hide them now. Emma just knew that Mary Margaret would look at her differently...

The door swung open carefully. Emma peered up as Mary Margaret stepped out and looked down at Emma. Her face had sympathy and concern written all over it.

"Emma..." Mary Margaret spoke quietly as she lowered herself to sit beside the girl. "What happened today?"

Emma shook her head. "Everything. The guy from the senior class - I don't know his name - was just being his usual self. And I guess I overreacted. It was no big deal."

Mary Margaret rested a hand on her knee. "Having a panic attack is a big deal, Emma. Does this happen a lot?"

"I - no, not really."

"What happened today that triggered it?" Mary Margaret asked gently.

Emma frowned. "Didn't the nurse tell you all about it?"

"A little. But I want to hear what happened from you, honey."

Emma bit her lip. She did not want to remember the events that had just conspired over the past two hours but forced herself to. She felt the emotions bubble back to the surface. "He was just... there was so much noise... and everyone was standing so close to me... He kept saying these things and I-I felt like I couldn't breathe."

She stopped to take a breath, feeling her lungs start to constrict again.

"What did he say?" Mary Margaret asked. The woman sounded upset and angry and Emma felt a flash of fear run through her.

"I- he said that -" Emma couldn't breathe. Was Mary Margaret angry at her? "He just- He was- and there were so many people- he kept saying- I-I just... I'm- I'm sorry!"

Emma took a strangled gasp and placed her head between her knees once more. She felt Mary Margaret move her hand to Emma's back and start to rub it.

"Shh... Take a deep breath..." Mary Margaret instructed softly. Emma felt a sob erupt from her.

"He was saying that- that I don't deserve a f-family!" Emma felt herself crying out, her voice muffled slightly from her knees. "That you don't want me! You don't..." She trailed off, trying to breathe the best she could.

"Emma..."

"It's true, isn't it? You don't want me!" She sobbed.

"Emma, stop!"

Emma raised her head, trying to stop the sobs, but unable. She refused to look at Mary Margaret, knowing the truth. She didn't want her. She was going to go back to foster care, to crappy homes like her previous foster father's.

Her foster father.

He was going to get her. He was going to take her back because Mary Margaret didn't want her.

Emma began to tremble in fear, the terrifying thoughts clouding her mind, and she couldn't stop the cries that were escaping her lips.

Mary Margaret gently grabbed Emma's cheeks and raised her head to look at her. Green eyes pierced hers.

"Let me make one thing clear, Emma," Mary Margaret began softly, but firmly. "I want you."

Emma hiccupped and shook her head, but Mary Margaret stroked her thumbs under her eyes, wiping the tears away and repeated, "Shh... Listen to me. I want you to stay with me. For as long as you want. Forever is fine too."

"But are-are you just doing this because you feel b-bad for m-me?" Emma couldn't control her shaky voice.

"No, I promise! I really care for you, Emma. You have to know that."

Emma finally nodded. "O-okay..."

Mary Margaret breathed a sigh and pulled Emma to her, tucking her into her side. Emma sniffled and placed her head onto Mary Margaret's shoulder and the two just sat for a while in the empty school hallway, ignoring the rest of the world for a moment.

* * *

_Her foster father pulled the knife back, shoving her back against the wall for leverage with one hand, and plunged the knife forcefully into her stomach._

_Emma gasped as best as she could at the immediate, horrific pain._

_It was excruciating. Her stomach burned, and felt like it was on fire and melting all at once. Breathing hurt even more. Her foster father leaned in close - too close - and whispered, "That's for your bastard baby. And soon - I'm gonna get your new foster mom."_

_Suddenly, a baby's piercing cries filled the air and Emma began to sob. Her vision was dimming and she managed to choke in a breath of air. Her foster father tightened his grip around her neck with a sneer, pushing the knife in further. The baby's cries grew louder and Emma wept along with it. She felt utterly sick; everything was starting to spin and she wrenched her eyes closed at the waves of pain -_

Suddenly, her eyes snapped open to her dark, silent bedroom. Emma sat up, breathing heavily for a moment. She placed her head in one her hands and choked out a sob, reaching back and sliding her hand underneath her pillow for her comfort. Upon feeling the soft, white wool, Emma calmed but only slightly.

Would he ever leave her alone? Would she ever escape from him?

And why was he saying those things in her nightmare? That he would kill her, her baby, and -

_Mary Margaret._

Emma suddenly felt her chest tighten, a sense of urgency filling her. She turned and climbed out of her bed, padded over to the bedroom door and carefully pulled it open slightly. She listened for a moment, trying to hear if Mary Margaret was downstairs. Sometimes the woman stayed up a little later than Emma, curled up on the couch with a book, the small lamp switched on, and every few minutes, Emma would usually be able to hear her turn the page. It was comforting. It made Emma feel safe, being able to know that someone that cared for her was awake, watching over her from a distance. Tonight though - she heard nothing. Only the silence. And it scared Emma a little.

_And soon - I'm gonna get your new foster mom._

Emma pulled the door open quickly, and pattered down the stairs as fast as her healing ribs would allow her. She stopped before reaching the opening to Mary Margaret's bedroom, and took a deep breath, before peering around the corner, past the curtain.

To Emma's great relief, the woman was in her bed, just lying there peacefully. It reminded her of the fairytale book that Mary Margaret had given her - of Snow White under the sleeping curse, just waiting for her Prince Charming to come and wake her. Emma knew it was silly, but she stepped further into the room, trying to hear if indeed, Mary Margaret was under a sleeping curse. The room was painfully silent - and then she heard Mary Margaret's soft breathing. Emma heaved a sigh of relief. She mentally berated herself at actually believing in sleeping curses for a second.

She turned to leave, but something stopped her. Her foster father's words in her nightmare repeated in her mind once more:

_And soon - I'm gonna get your new foster mom._

What if he crept into the apartment in the middle of the night while Emma was sleeping and attacked Mary Margaret?

No way in hell was that happening.

Emma carefully settled herself down on the floor, sitting against the banister of the stairs, and prepared herself for a long night of staying awake.

She had to protect Mary Margaret. She just had to. She had already lost her precious baby - she couldn't lose another person she cared about.


	15. The Part That Hurts The Most (Is Me)

**Woah, it's been over a month since I last updated? Gah, I'm sorry, guys! Hopefully this chapter makes up for it. And don't worry; the next chapter definitely won't take this long to be posted :)**

* * *

Chapter 15 - The Part That Hurts the Most (Is Me)

_Every day I get a little closer,_

_And everything I'm made of starts to melt away._

_I see the signs but I can't quite make the words out,_

_All I want is to be near you_

_But I push you away._

_I just want to get away,_

_But I hurt you every day._

_The part that hurts the most is me -_

_The most is you -_

_It's everything I do without you._

_"And soon - I'm gonna get your new foster mom."_

Emma startled awake to a dark room with a jolt. Her neck protested at the movement and she held back a groan of pain. She clenched her eyes shut for a second, trying to wake up and she sat up carefully as her eyes ever-so-slowly adjusted to the dark and became aware of her surroundings. She realised that her back and head were leaning against something hard and cold, and she turned around to see what it was. It was something metal...

The banister to the stairs?

She furrowed her brow in confusion at the offending objects behind her. Why was she sleeping on the floor outside of Mary Margaret's room? She glanced over to where Mary Margaret's bed would be in the dark room, the woman still sleeping, and the nightmare from last night sprang back to mind with a shudder. Her eyes widened. Her foster father was out to get them; she just knew it. But at least she made sure that Mary Margaret was safe last night.

Emma forced herself to get up, wincing at her sore ribs, and carefully stepped away from Mary Margaret's bedroom. She climbed the stairs back to her bedroom for a few more hours of precious sleep and Mary Margaret continued to lie there, sound asleep, and completely unaware of the internal torment that her foster daughter was suffering.

* * *

Mary Margaret leaned against the banister, peering up the staircase to Emma's room. It was 9.30 am, and she was unsure as to whether she should go up and see if the girl was awake, or let her get a little more sleep as per the school nurse's request. She decided the former, knowing that the girl would rather be up than sleeping too much, and walked up the staircase slowly.

Gently tapping on the door, she called out, "Emma? Are you awake, honey?"

Silence.

Mary Margaret knocked on the door once more. "Emma?"

No answer.

Mary Margaret frowned and began to reach her hand forward to push open the door when she heard it. It was so quiet that Mary Margaret could barely hear it. But she did hear it.

And the sound broke her heart.

Emma was crying. Quiet, almost silent cries, and Mary Margaret couldn't stand the sound of Emma suffering anymore and quickly pushed open the door. The girl was lying on her bed, on her side, facing the door. Her eyes were closed; her fists clenched and brought to her mouth, muffling the sobs. Tears slid down her face in a steady stream and Mary Margaret wasn't even sure that Emma had even heard her come in.

"...Emma?"

Emma's eyes snapped open to look at Mary Margaret, and the girl jumped as if shocked. She sat up and quickly swiped at her eyes, trying to look as though she hadn't been crying.

"Mary Margaret... How long... were you standing there?" Emma was obviously trying to keep her voice steady, but failed miserably when hiccups interrupted every second word.

Mary Margaret frowned and moved to sit on the edge of Emma's bed. "A few seconds."

"Oh."

"What happened?"

"Nothing." Emma's voice wavered.

"Another nightmare?" Off of Emma's silence, Mary Margaret reached out and pushed a lock of hair behind Emma's ear. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

Emma closed her eyes. "I didn't want to bother you."

"You would never bother me."

"I'm fine." Emma pushed herself off the bed and stood up.

Mary Margaret watched sadly as Emma grabbed her clothes and took off downstairs. It was only when she heard the bathroom door slam shut that Mary Margaret sighed and stood up to go downstairs.

* * *

"I'm going out."

It took a moment for the sentence to register in Mary Margaret's brain, and she flicked her eyes up from the book that she was reading to Emma. The girl was standing beside the front door, coat in hand, a frown on her face. Mary Margaret hadn't even heard her come out of the bathroom.

"What? Where are you going?" Mary Margaret asked. She felt surprised. Emma had refused to go anywhere with the exception of school after being removed from her foster parents' home. Granted, the girl hadn't been staying with her for too long, and Mary Margaret didn't know Emma's habits all that well yet...

She was torn from her thoughts at the sound of rustling clothes. Emma was struggling to pull her jacket on without hurting her ribs and Mary Margaret hurriedly stood up from the couch and walked over to Emma. She reached forward to help the girl adjust her coat but Emma yanked away.

"I can do it," Emma said, an uncomfortable look on her face. She struggled with the buttons for a few seconds before turning to leave the apartment.

"Hang on - Emma..."

Emma turned back around to face Mary Margaret. Mary Margaret crossed her arms, feeling slightly uncomfortable.

"I don't want to restrain you from going out," She began cautiously. "But I need to establish some rules here."

Emma frowned, looking impatient. "What sort of rules?"

"Alright, so maybe it's not really a rule. How about an information exchange?"

Emma tilted her head, the angry mask slipping a little to reveal curiosity.

Mary Margaret smiled slightly and reached out a hand to straighten Emma's crinkled collar. Emma flinched and Mary Margaret quickly retracted her hand.

"Sorry..." Emma muttered.

Mary Margaret shook her head. "It's alright, Emma. I just need to know where you're going, and how long you'll be gone for."

"That's it? That's all you want to know?" Emma blinked.

Mary Margaret nodded slowly. "Yes."

Emma furrowed her brow. "I don't know where I'm going." Mary Margaret tilted her head slightly in concern. Emma wringed her hands together. "I- I just- I need to get away for a bit. I need air. I'll be back in a few hours..."

Mary Margaret startled as Emma turned around and pushed out the front door. "W-wait, honey?"

But Emma had already started down the stairs. Mary Margaret sighed and leaned her head against the door frame.

"Be safe," She whispered.

* * *

Mary Margaret glanced at the clock for the umpteenth time. It was well past 1 pm and Emma hadn't returned. When the girl had said 'a few hours', Mary Margaret had assumed two or possibly three hours.

But the afternoon was getting later and Mary Margaret's patience was growing thinner.

Tapping her nails against the table top, she murmured, "Emma, where are you?"

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Mary Margaret sprang up and raced to open it. Her heart pounded and she took a breath before pulling open the door.

"Emma?"

It wasn't her foster daughter.

David was standing there, his hand raised as if he was about to knock on the door again.

"Hi," David spoke. Despite the circumstances, Mary Margaret couldn't help but feel a little lighter at David's simple greeting and reached up to kiss him.

"David, thank goodness you're here," Mary Margaret breathed out as she felt the panic start to dissipate inside of her, and exhaustion from the nervous energy set in. She leaned in to him and he reached out to grasp at her shoulders as if to steady her.

David pulled back slightly. "Why, what's happened?"

Mary Margaret worried her bottom lip between her teeth. "It's Emma..."

* * *

Emma clutched her coat to herself tightly. The air was cool and slightly nippy, and normally she wouldn't care about the weather, but today was different. It wasn't the cold, or even the light snow that was beginning to fall.

It was the atmosphere. The joyful atmosphere.

Several parents were walking along the street, happily chatting and clutching their children's gloved hands tightly in their grasp. Emma couldn't help but stare in longing as some of the parents occasionally took a running start and lifted the young children off the ground to swing them in the air. Emma turned her face away from the seemingly intimate moment between parent and child, and tried to block out the gleeful squeals and laughs, but to no avail. Tears clung to her eyelashes as the overwhelming feeling of jealousy and rejection swelled in her chest.

She briskly passed by the joyful families, trying not to think about her lifelong wish of having her own family, when suddenly, thoughts of Mary Margaret flooded through her mind.

Mary Margaret.

She was her true family. Not like her scumbag foster parents. Not like any of the other people in her life who had made false promises. Mary Margaret would keep her word and protect Emma. She could trust her.

Couldn't she?

Emma felt her eyebrows furrow.

Of course she could trust her. It was Mary Margaret who shouldn't be trusting Emma. She couldn't let Mary Margaret see the real her. The true, _broken_ Emma Swan.

She shook her head firmly, and continued to briskly walk over to a wooden bench and sat down, too lost in her thoughts to notice the group of people sitting on a bench a fair distance from her. Too lost in her thoughts to hear them begin to whisper. But not too lost in her thoughts to hear what they were saying.

"Did you hear?"

"Hear what?"

"You know the fourth-grade teacher of Storybrooke Primary?"

"Mary Margaret Blanchard?"

"Yeah, her. She took in that girl sitting over there!"

"Really?"

"That's considerate of her."

"Or stupid."

"Yeah, didn't you hear? The girl - Swan, I think her name is - she got pregnant."

"What?!"

"Yup."

"But she's so young! And she doesn't have a baby bump or anything."

"Exactly. She lost the baby. Now why on earth would a sweet teacher take in such a troubled, pregnant foster kid?"

"You're right. That would be such a burden on the poor woman."

"I would hate to be Mary Margaret right now."

Emma stood up quickly, feeling her cheeks burn in embarrassment, and without even a glance towards the group of people, she ran.

She ran, and ran, the screaming pain from her ribs not registering in her mind. She wasn't really heading in any particular direction, and without realising how far she was going. The only thing that was running through her mind was that she knew that she had to get away, and suddenly, she found herself on a rocky shore. Spinning around to view her surroundings, her eyes immediately snapped to the large wooden structure which was standing in the middle of the empty land.

And despite the horrible clenching feeling in her chest, Emma stared up at the wooden castle in wonder and felt her head clear a little.

* * *

David stretched his neck slowly from side to side in an attempt to wake up. The late afternoon sun was disappearing into the evening, and neither David nor Mary Margaret had located Emma. Mary Margaret was growing slightly hysterical, and it was all David could do to keep her from having a breakdown.

"Don't worry," He had told her. "I'll find her."

_"I will always find her."_

And now, sitting in his truck, David frowned at the words that had just fallen from his lips. Why had he just said that? The words- why did they feel so familiar?

He brushed it off as nothing and continued to drive along the road, trying to focus on the more important task on hand - finding Emma. He was now driving along the beach, and it took all of his willpower to not turn around. There really was no point in searching here. There was literally nothing in sight, apart from the water lapping at the rocky shore. Well, nothing except for that large wooden structure ahead that honestly looked like it could crumble at any second.

And that's when he saw her.

Emma was sitting on the edge of the castle, swinging her feet, and staring aimlessly out at the water. David parked his truck and climbed out. Stones crunched underfoot, alerting Emma to his presence as he slowly stepped closer to the structure.

"Hey," He called.

Emma didn't look at him. "Hey."

David crossed his arms. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," Emma shrugged.

David smiled lightly. "Hiding out?"

Emma shrugged again. "Not really."

David hesitated for a second before hoisting himself up on the structure. "Listen, Emma," He began as he settled himself next to Emma. "I know that you're scared."

Emma raised an eyebrow. "Scared of what? I'm not scared of anything."

"You're scared of Mary Margaret."

This time, Emma turned to look at him. "What?" She asked incredulously.

"You're scared of Mary Margaret," David repeated.

"Are you out of your mind? Why on earth would I be scared of Mary Margaret?"

"You're scared to let her in. To let her help you," David took a breath, ready to tread on careful ground. "You're scared to have her as a mom."

Emma's head snapped up. David could see the fire burning in her eyes and immediately knew that he had said the wrong thing.

"Emma, I didn't mean -"

"No, you knew exactly what you meant," Emma snapped. "And you're right. You're right, David. I don't know what it's like to have a mom. I don't have a mom! And, yeah, I'm too scared to let another person in my life but that's just because they always leave!"

Emma felt her walls start to chip and crumble, but she didn't care. It felt good to unburden herself.

"And you know what else? Mary Margaret should be scared of _me_. Because I'm not good for her. I'm a burden! A complete foster care burden! I have so much emotional baggage that I don't even know where to begin! You don't know what it's like, David! You don't know what it's like to not have a family! You don't know what it's like to have to worry that every person that you trust will leave you! You don't know what it's like!"

By now, Emma's cheeks were stained red and she was heaving sharp breaths. David sighed and bowed his head.

"No, Emma. I don't know what it's like. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

Emma swallowed a few times, but shook her head, anger simmering down. "It's okay."

"Did you want to talk?" David offered. "I don't know if you heard, but I was in a coma for a while. I hear that coma patients are good listeners?"

Despite herself, Emma snorted. "Yeah, I heard."

"So?" David gently nudged her. "Anything you want to get off your chest?"

Emma drew her knees up to her chest. "I don't know."

David nodded. "You don't have to talk. We can just sit here for a while. Just let me call Mary Margaret to let her know that we found you..."

Emma turned to him, guilt starting to write itself on her face. "You were looking for me? Ugh, I'm so stupid. I told Mary Margaret that I wouldn't be out long..."

David shook his head. "It's okay. I'll just give her a call now."

But as he pulled his phone out from his pocket, Emma blurted, "I wish my baby could have played here."

David stared at her, looking stunned.

"I-I mean," Emma stumbled over her words. "If my baby was born. He would have liked it here."

"He?" David asked.

"I like to imagine that it would have been a boy." Emma allowed a tiny smile. "He would have called it his castle. He would have run around and pretended to fight off enemies with a sword." She laughed.

David nodded softly, a smile growing. "That would have been nice."

"If he was born, things would have been so different," Emma continued. "I don't know whether Neal and I would still be together, but I know that he would have loved the baby just as much I would have. As much as I do..." Emma trailed off.

David sat still, just listening.

"I know that I'm young, but I couldn't help but wonder - would I have been a good mother?"

"Yes," David nodded.

Emma jumped slightly, as if she had forgotten that he was even sitting there. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to unload all of this on you. I shouldn't even be telling you this." A frown grew on her features. "It's not like you really care anyway."

The words struck David in the heart like a metal rod.

"Emma," He breathed. "I do care. I care."

"But, why?" Emma felt her voice start to rise. "Why do you care?"

"I- I don't know! I just do."

Emma laughed humourlessly. "That's a first. I mean, what's happening to me lately? First I break up with my boyfriend - the first person to _actually_ love me. And then Mary Margaret wants to take me in. And now you're saying that you care about me?"

"Emma-"

"I mean, why does Mary Margaret even want me? All I'll ever be is trouble for her! Nothing but trouble!" The words were spilling from her lips like water from a broken pipe. "I hear people talking, David. I hear their whispers! And you know what? It makes me feel like there's something wrong with me! What am I even talking about - of course there's something wrong with me!"

David felt his eyes fill with tears. He almost didn't want to ask the question, but wanted to know the answer so badly so that he could fix it. "What- what makes you say that?"

Emma let out a sob. "There must be something wrong with me that no one - _no one_ - ever wants me."

David placed a hand on Emma's back as she placed her head into her knees.

"You may think that, Emma," He whispered. "But there is someone who cares so deeply about you. I'm going to call her to come and get you, okay?"

* * *

Mary Margaret quickly parked her car beside the wooden castle and climbed out. David's phone call had been a short and hushed one. She didn't receive much information; only that Emma was safe, and fine, but needed her. Mary Margaret's heart swelled at that - Emma actually _needed_ her. She had heard the girl say that once before, but this was different. This was after Mary Margaret had become her foster mom.

Mary Margaret hurriedly went over to the wooden structure, where David and Emma were standing a few feet apart from each other on the ground next to one of the wooden beams. Her eyes immediately sought out Emma's but her head was bowed, arms crossed as if she were shrinking into herself. She quickly glanced to David and gave him a worried look. The look he sent her was a soft one. A reassurance.

'_You can do this. You're her mom.'_

"Emma?" She spoke. Emma refused to look up.

"What?" The girl's voice was quiet.

"Please look at me."

Emma slowly raised her head, and Mary Margaret saw the pain in her eyes. Pain that wasn't recent- it was a pain that had evolved over a long period of time. Mary Margaret couldn't take it anymore and reached out to pull Emma into a tight hug.

"I was worried sick," She mumbled into Emma's hair. The girl stiffened, but finally uncrossed her arms and curled them around Mary Margaret's waist.

"I'm sorry..." Emma's voice was small. Mary Margaret felt tears spring to her eyes and she swallowed before pressing her lips to Emma's temple.

"It's okay, Emma. I've got you now. I've got you."


End file.

Once Upon a Time, Family, Hurt-Comfort