Emma bit back a sharp cry as her teeth clashed together painfully, the casserole dish in her hands dropping solidly onto the floor, peas and carrots rolling every which way. She whipped quickly around, shooting a venomous glare at the larger boy who had gone out of his way to bump into her as he walked by. She stepped quickly toward him, feeling an anger pooling in her stomach that made her fingers twitch. In that moment, nothing would have made her happier than to plant her knuckles squarely in his face.

"Emma, what happened to the peas?"

The voice was gently admonishing, the woman's blonde eyebrow arched curiously as she took in the mosaic of vegetables spread across the dining room floor.

"I'm sorry, Ingrid. I tripped. I didn't mean to spill them," Emma hurried, suddenly terrified that after only a few weeks in the new group home, she was already cast as the troubled kid.

"Don't worry about it, Emma, just go grab a dustpan and help clean up. Kevin, did you get the napkins like I asked?"

"Yup, sure did," Kevin answered, then turned to Emma. "Do you want me to help you, Em?"

"No thanks," she managed to grate out, refusing to look at the oversized delinquent who was currently tormenting her and getting away with it. "And it's, Emma."

She heard Ingrid's footsteps move back toward the kitchen and shot Kevin the nastiest look she could muster. It had been two weeks, and while Ingrid and the other kids seemed nice, Kevin was a complete ass. Unfortunately, Kevin had been with Ingrid the longest, and seemed to be her favorite. Foster parents always tried to make you believe they adored and cared for each of their misfit kids in the same way, but Emma knew differently, and because of that, she also knew there was a fast approaching expiration date for her stay. Kevin's taunts and bullying were quickly becoming unbearable, and there wasn't a shred of proof, at least not in her history, that anyone was going to do anything about it. Like always, it was going to be up to Emma to take care of herself.

It was several hours after dinner that Emma found herself in Ingrid's room. She hadn't intended on intruding, but the door had been unlocked, and Emma had a natural curiosity about the inner mind of these people who collected stray kids, like her. Luck would also have it that Ingrid had stepped out to pick up one of the other kids from their volunteer work, thirty minutes away. Glancing both directions down the hall and seeing no one, Emma carefully eased through the cracked doorway, making careful note of how open it had been to start. The bedroom was cast in a low light from the streetlamp outside, and Emma could easily make out a modest bed centered on the far wall, flanked by matching nightstands. A digital clock and glass of water rested on one nightstand while the other sat empty. The walls were white, and devoid of any art or photos. Overall, the room was much more sterile than she had expected, given how Ingrid adorned the rest of the house with all sorts of junk. She had stepped only a few feet in, and turning to leave, she came face to face with herself.

A large, ornate mirror hung over a plain wood dresser, framing her surprised face, lips slightly open and green eyes wide. Glancing down, she noticed that below the mirror, centered on the dresser, sat an equally ornate jewelry box. It seemed odd that a woman who kept her bedroom so simple and clean would have such a fancy thing to hold jewelry, especially considering Emma didn't remember Ingrid wearing any. A tingle of curiosity started at her fingertips, as it always did, and she found herself gliding her hands over the smooth silver and gold finish of the box, gently prying open tiny drawers that held buttons, and pins, and bits of paper. Curiously, no jewelry. Emma was about to leave when her fingers passed over an odd crease on the back of the box. Craning her neck to view the back, it looked perfectly smooth, but feeling again, there it was, a slight hitch in the finish no more than the width of a fingernail. Not hopeful of any success, she pushed against the seam and felt the release of coiled tension, a tiny drawer springing outward against her finger. She couldn't help the one-sided smile that appeared on her face. She was always pleased when her natural curiosity was rewarded.

Reaching the tip of her finger into the minuscule drawer, she felt something small and slightly warm. Tipping it out and into her hand, she got her first good look at what Ingrid had tried to hide so well. Confusion settled across her features as she studied the small curiosity nestled in her palm. It looked like…well, a bean. She rocked her palm back and forth slightly, the bean rolling to and fro, casting light like a prism in her hand. Small flecks of red, gold, and blue glinted beneath its surface. It couldn't possibly be a bean, because beans did not do that, at least none that Emma had seen. Perhaps it was a gem of some kind, just cut to an odd shape. Maybe it was worth something.

Feeling a strange sense of desire come over her, Emma pocketed the trinket.

Emma was cold. It wasn't a new feeling, but it was sharp and heightened with every panicked breath of freezing air she gulped down. Her sneakers hit the ground heavily, spraying gravel as she ran through the narrow lanes of the storage facility. The muscles in her legs seized painfully with each step, threatening to cramp and betray her as she fled. She could hear the garbled white noise of a radio in the distance, and knew that they would catch her soon if she didn't find a way out. It had been just her luck, however, that the area she ran into, hoping for an escape, was encircled by a fence.

She could feel the panic crowding her chest, pushing against her lungs and making it difficult to breath. Her thoughts flickered between memories from the past week, the classic Emma Swan story. She had been in and out of group homes, and running away from police more times than she could count, but if they caught her this time, it would be different. She was sixteen, and the courts aren't as forgiving when it comes to sixteen year old degenerates as they are with twelve year olds. If those cops caught her, she was going to be in a heap of shit.

Her mind flashed back to Kevin, and she knew if he were here right now, she would smash his teeth in, and then maybe finish him off with a good kick to the nuts. This was all his fault. She just wanted to fly under the radar and not make trouble, but from day one he'd had other plans, and if there was a moment Ingrid wasn't watching, he was tormenting her. Well, she was done with it. Being in a group home with heat, and food, and TV wasn't worth it if she had to put up with being picked on every day. The camera was the last straw. She'd even asked for it back nicely, but because Ingrid was out at the store, he knew he had time to torture her a little longer. Scratching his face, well, that had been an accident. If he hadn't been dangling it up above his head, he wouldn't have ended up getting caught by her nails when she jumped to get it. Kevin had been so happy to point out, however, that Ingrid wouldn't see it that way, not when he had a nicely packaged lie all ready to go. He'd really lost it then, screaming that she'd attacked him and he was going to call the police. She'd panicked, and maybe it wasn't the smartest thing, but she ran.

So here she was, stuck for it, chest heaving in a maze of storage units, trying desperately to see a way out of her situation. The sounds of heavy footsteps and radio chatter grew louder, slicing easily through the thin, cool air. Emma had never been so panicked in her entire life. Suddenly everything— the parade of foster parents, the nights spent in bus stops, the constant feeling of abandonment—it was all too much. She could wait for those cops to find her and hope for the best, or she could run. It didn't matter if they put her in jail, or another group home, there would always be those people like Kevin trying to stomp her down and make her feel miserable. She wasn't going to let it happen.

It was the crunching of gravel in the next aisle over that triggered her flight response, sneakers kicking up stones as she skidded around the corner and ran. Her heart beat wildly in her chest, blonde hair streaming behind her as she disappeared down another lane between units. She knew they were only minutes away from finding her, and still, she only saw fence.

Come on, please, she begged. I need a way out of here. I have to get away from here, away from this place, please, please. I need a way out. I need a way out.

She didn't see what she hit, but she felt pain lance up her toes as she stumbled forward, her arms spinning wildly as she fought to balance herself and keep moving—and then it all happened so very slowly. She saw something arcing through the air towards the ground, glistening and shining with some sort of inner light. She had forgotten completely about the strange object she'd stolen from Ingrid and tucked into her shirt pocket, the same shirt she was wearing now. Her heart seemed to slow to the point of silence as she watched the bean hit the gravel and bounce. Once, twice—and then everything exploded.

A wall of air shot outward, passing easily over Emma, but setting her skin on fire with sensation, a rapid tingling that danced on the edge of every nerve in her body. Her green eyes widened with a mix of fear and wonder as the ground opened up before her, gravel disappearing into a swirling vortex or color and flashing light. There was a part of her that was still keenly aware of the cops heading toward her, perhaps ready to turn the corner at any moment. Her brain was telling her to back up, that there was nothing those cops could do that would be worse than the twisting abyss before her, but it was her heart that won out.

It's slow, steady beating seemed to pulse in time with the strange vortex in front of her, urging her closer, and before she could stop herself, she jumped.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Just a heads-up, it will be a few chapters before we get to see our favorite Captain, but the chapters are all written up and just awaiting a last minute read through and some grammar work, so updates should follow fairly quickly-especially since this was more of an introduction chapter, and rather short. As always, reviews and critiques are welcome. -Fara