A/N: I just slammed this out in two hours. It took the wind out of me if I'm honest. May be slightly OOC for the time in the series that it is set in but that has never stopped me before. I hope you enjoy the read.

[Disclaimer: I do not own, nor am I offiliated with the Once Upon a Time franchise. Any characters and/or ideas associated with the show as of 17th October, 2015, are not mine. Anything else is mine.]

TRIGGER WARNING: DESCRIPTIONS OF RAPE AND SUICIDE

'EMMA, LOOK OUT!' Mary Margaret screams, and Emma has just enough time to draw her gun before the full moving force of Jefferson bares down on her. She is lifted off her feet and thrown backwards, right on top of Mary Margaret, knocking the brunette out cold.

Reacting quickly Emma rolls off the woman, and out from under man's torso, desperately scrambling for her gun. But it is too little, too late. Jefferson is fast and he manages to pull her back just before her fingertips touch the gun. She struggles with him, one arm stretched out toward the weapon, the other pushing off him for leverage. She cannot help the shriek that escapes her lips however when he grabs a handful of her hair and pulls. She knows what to do though, throwing her left elbow back with all her might. He lets go as she makes contact, grunting in pain.

It takes him only seconds to recover. He pounces, pinning Emma's hips to the ground, as his strong, calloused hands find purchase around her neck. The blonde struggles, arms flailing, hitting, scratching and gouging to no avail. It isn't long before white spots begin to fill her vision, and a cloud descends upon her brain.

Then, just in the final seconds before she passes out, Jefferson releases his hold and rolls off of her. Coughing and spluttering, Emma draws in gasping breaths, rolling to her side and curling into the foetal position, her vision reduced to a dizzying spin.

However, when the unmistakable click of a gun being cocked fills her ears, she freezes, breath catching in her throat. She looks up cautiously to see the barrel of a gun, her gun, pointed in her face.

Jefferson moves quickly, grapping another handful of her hair and yanking her out of the room. He drags a groaning, whimpering Emma down the hallway and into his bedroom. Just as Emma gets herself into an almost seated position he is upon her again, lifting his boot-covered foot into the air and bringing it down hard against her face.

The young woman cannot help but scream as her lip splits, blood dripping onto the carpet beneath her. The next few blows are to her torso, stomping motions that she is sure have fractured the ribs on her right side.

And then, almost as quickly as it starts, the assault stops, and she is left curled in the foetal position on the ground, shaking in pain.

The jarring in her side alerts her to the fact that she is being moved, but the pain is so great from the beating that she barely registers her surroundings. The sedation from earlier, the lack of oxygen and the knock to her head were all working against her.

And when she does begin to register sights and sounds again, she wishes that she could turn it all off.

Unbeknownst to her, Jefferson had attached her hands to post of his bed with her own handcuffs, and he was now proceeding to rid her body of her boots and pants.

'Please,' she whimpered, begging for him to stop. 'Please don't.'

'SHUT UP!' the man screamed, spit flying from his mouth, and Emma wasn't sure the last time she had seen someone this angry.

When he moves to take his own pants off, Emma turns her head, tears beginning to snake their way down her cheeks.

She hears his pants hit the floor with a thud, then feels him move closer, the stiffness of his erection pressing against her thigh. Once again, the sound of a gun cocking fills her ears.

'Move, and not only do you die, but I take Henry's life as well.'

At the mention of her son, the boy she abandoned once before, Emma snapped her head to the right to meet Jefferson's gaze.

'Touch him,' she snarled, 'and I will kill you with my own bare hands.'

'Not if I kill you first,' he spat.

Once again he moved atop of her, sitting on her thighs, pinning her to the bed. Roughly, he wrenched her thighs apart, and lined himself up with her core. Then, without any kind of lubricant or hesitation, he shoved himself into her.

The howl Emma let out was far from human, as she felt her insides tearing to accommodate him.

The whole ordeal was over in less than ten minutes, with Jefferson undoing her cuffed hands just moments after pulling his own pants up.

'Pathetic,' he spits, retreating from the room.

Emma finds herself incapable of movement at first, in too much pain and shock over what had just happened. But, eventually, somehow, she finds the will to move, rising off the bed slowly and scanning the ground for her pants. She finds this discarded in the corner of the room.

It takes a while for her injured body to put them back on, but once they are secure around her waist she limps out of the room, needing to find Mary Margaret; needing to escape.

…

It is later that evening at the house of the Mayor that someone first notices something is off with Emma. Having dropped by to collect something for Henry, Emma is taken by surprise when Regina offers for her to come inside.

'Get into a bar fight, Miss Swan?' the Mayor questions, gesturing toward her split lip and bruised hands.

'Something like that,' Emma replies, casting her gaze downwards to where her hands rested in her lap.

She had gone home and taken a shower straight after they had escaped, changing into a pair of long pants and a turtleneck in a vain attempt to hide the bruises scattered across her body. But the Mayor saw right through the charade. She saw Emma limping to the couch, watched how she gingerly lowered herself into her seat, and listened as the blonde's breath rasped out of her throat. She knew something was wrong.

In a moment of uncharacteristic tenderness, Regina moved to place her hand atop of Emma's, intent on asking if she was okay. The blonde's reaction though caught her off guard.

Instantly jumping at the contact, Emma regretted the quick movement immediately, hissing as a sharp pain spread across her ribs. Tears pricked at her eyes, and she cast her gaze downward once again in an attempt to hide this.

But nothing got past the Mayor.

'Emma,' she said, almost tenderly. 'What happened?'

The blonde shook her head, tears beginning to run down her cheeks.

'I can't,' she murmured. 'I can't. I can't. I can't.'

'You can't what?' Regina asked, shifting her position on the couch once more so that she could wrap an arm around the blonde's defeated shoulders.

The move was a bad idea. The second Regina's hand made contact with Emma's shoulder, the blonde lurched forward, knocking a glass off the table in front of them. In a move she would later regret, Emma's arms shot out to stop her ungraceful fall, stretching the muscles around her ribs, winding her.

She couldn't help it – the combination of the touch, the pain and the lack of air was enough to send her over the edge, to flood her fragile mind with memories.

'No, please don't,' Emma whimpers. 'Please don't hurt me.'

'Miss Swan,' Regina starts softly. 'Emma, I have no such intention right now.'

But Emma was inconsolable. By this point she was shaking, her whole body thrumming with pent up emotion.

'Please, please stop,' she whispered, and that was the moment Regina knew.

To this day she will never know why she let Miss Swan into her house, or why she cared so much, or how she just knew. Call it a mother's instinct if you will. But deep down, Regina knew what had happened to Emma.

Kneeling in front of the woman, the brunette asked: 'Who touched you, Emma? Who did this to you?'

Emma sniffled, lost in her own thoughts, barely hearing the voice of the woman beside her. Eventually though, Regina's smooth voice cut through her haze, and she felt herself begin to listen to the words being uttered.

'If you just tell me who did this, I will make them pay. I promise you,' Regina assured.

Emma shakes her head miserably, muttering the one word that could render Regina speechless.

'Henry.'

This only served to confuse Regina.

'What about Henry, dear?' she murmured.

'He threatened Henry,' Emma managed.

The Mayor didn't know whether to be scared or angry. Scared for her son's safety or angry that someone would threaten him.

'Who threatened Henry,' Regina glowered, but Emma just shook her head, tears once again streaming down her face.

It is when Regina looks down to where Emma is wringing her hands once again that she notices the blood, and, without any forethought, reaches out to grab at the blonde's wrist.

The visceral scream that is ripped from Emma's throat is unrivalled.

'DON'T TOUCH ME!'

…

It takes a bit of convincing, but after letting Emma calm down, Regina manages to get her to reveal her wounds. Emma doesn't know why she allows her guard to come down, doesn't quite understand where this feeling of security when in the presence of the Mayor became so important to her. All she does know is that Regina is the ONLY person that she will ever let see what Jefferson did to her.

'You promise you won't make me go to the hospital?' Emma asks weakly.

"Promise,' the Mayor assures, sure that she is making a mistake, but she needs to assess Emma, to find out if what she suspects is true.

The pair are in Regina's bathroom, Emma looking into the vanity mirror, Regina standing behind her at a safe distance.

Emma's first move is to remove her pants, and from the back Regina sees nothing wrong. Little did she know that from the front, there were hand prints bruised into the blonde's fair skin, and blood seeping through her underwear.

The next item of clothing to be shed is her tank top, but this is far from easy for Emma, who struggles to get it over her head without jostling her bruised ribs. Finally, a look of defeat in her eye, she tilts her head to Regina, who steps forward cautiously and lifts the offending article over her head and drops it on the floor.

The first thing she notices in the mirror is the bruising around Emma's neck, shaped conspicuously like hand prints.

Emma's blonde curls are pulled back into a messy pony tail, allowing the Mayor to see the scratches across her back. Moving to Emma's right side, the brunette is shocked at the extent of the deep purple bruise that adorns the skin.

Feeling sick to her stomach Regina tentatively asks, 'is that…a boot print.'

Emma hangs her head, and that is all the conformation that the other woman needs.

From her new angle Regina is finally able to see the bruising to Emma's thighs. At the sight of this, and the blood, she chokes back a sob, hand flying to her mouth to cover it.

But it is too late. Emma's head whips up to meet Regina's eyes, and the brunette sees as shame fills the blonde's features.

'Oh, Emma, no,' Regina starts, but it is too late. The blonde is already pulling her arms across her body to try to cover it up again.

'What can I do?' the older woman asks, and Emma's answer is simple.

'Nothing.'

They stay in the bathroom for at least an hour, not saying anything, just revelling in each other's presence.

'Can I take a bath?' Emma asks, her voice no more than a whisper.

'What?' Regina asks, dazedly looking up to meet her gaze.

'I just want to wash him off, Regina. Please let me wash him off.'

'Of course you can,' Regina replies, busying herself in a search for bath salts and fresh towels. 'Anything you need, you can have.'

…

It is only when she is settled in the tub that Emma drops her guard completely.

Pulling her knees to her chest, and wrapping her arms around them, she feels safe and secure, especially knowing that Regina was sitting on the floor next to her.

To give her her privacy the Mayor was facing away from her, leaning against the side of the tub, but just her presence has a calming effect on Emma.

'It was Jefferson,' she says suddenly, taking not only the Mayor by surprise but also herself.

The Mayor just nods, rising to her feet and telling Emma that she has to make a call.

Ashamed that the news has seemed to upset Regina, Emma stretches out in the tub and slowly submerges herself.

…

After calling Graham and informing him of Emma's attack and attacker, Regina returns to the bathroom to find an empty tub, or what she assumes to be one. Emma is nowhere to be seen. She was just about to leave the room again when she heard bubbles coming from the tub, and she rushes over to see Emma submerged in the water, lips turning blue, eyes clamped shut.

Without a second's thought she reaches into the tub, soaking the arms of her blouse, wrestling with the younger woman to get her to surface. Finally, Emma's head breaks free of the water, but the blonde does not stop struggling, trying to resubmerge herself between spluttering gasps for air.

'Emma,' Regina says firmly, when it is clear that the younger woman has lost the fight. 'Emma stop. You're going to hurt yourself.'

'That's the point,' she whispers sullenly. 'I just want it to be over. It's never going to be over,' she sobs.

Letting out a deep sigh, Regina cradles Emma's head in the crook of her next, and when the blonde's sobs reach breaking point she pulls back, stripping herself of her skirt and blouse, and hops into the water behind Emma. The small, vulnerable young woman turns on her side, despite the protest from her ribs, and snuggles deep into the brunette's arms where she cries, and cries, and cries.

She cries for what she has lost, and for what she will never have. And she cries for what has been taken from her, and what she will never get back.

…

'NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO…' Emma screams, waking herself up in the process. She lays there in bed, not daring to move, not daring to breathe in case it was real.

She has no idea where she is and it is dark, so, so dark. She hears footsteps rushing toward the room she is in, and lets out a terrified scream when the door is roughly thrown open to reveal a figure wielding a baseball bat.

Scrambling out of the bed she crawls into the corner, back against the wall, making herself as small as humanly possible. This could not be happening – not again.

She can feel herself shaking, and feel the tears running down her cheeks, but she does not care. She cannot let him do this to her again.

And then, all of a sudden, the darkness makes way to brilliant yellow light as the figure flips on the light switch.

It takes a moment for Emma to process what she is seeing.

Regina, in her pyjamas, baseball bat at the ready, eyes scanning frantically for an intruder. Not finding one she looks over at Emma, who lets out a deep, shuddering breath and buries her head in her knees, shame and relief coursing through her veins.

'Oh, Emma,' Regina sighs sadly, dropping the bat to the carpeted floor with a dull thud.

Kneeling down in front of her, she drops her voice, taking on a soothing, motherly tone of voice. She can see that Emma isn't all there, and she doesn't want to frighten the woman any more than she obvious already had.

'Emma,' she soothes. 'What happened?'

Emma's breathing hitched in her throat, and she managed to choke out Henry's name.

'What about Henry, dear?'

'He…He died,' Emma managed, an agonising fresh wave of tears streaming from her eyes.

'No, no no,' Regina said, scooting closer to the blonde, tentatively reaching out to touch Emma, before thinking better of it. 'Henry is alive and well. He's with Miss Blanchard – supposed to be with you actually. But he's fine. Henry is okay.'

Emma just nods, knowing all of this already, but grateful for the reassurance.

It takes a while, but eventually Regina coaxes her back into bed, smoothing sweat-soaked hair from her forehead before promising that she is just in the next room.

It pains her to see the younger woman so vulnerable; so childlike; reduced to a sopping, sobbing mess.

Emma has two more nightmares that night, but Regina is there every time.

…

The next morning Henry comes over for breakfast before school. Emma, having not had much sleep, finds it difficult to talk about anything with the boy. But for what she lacks, Henry more than makes up for.

For a while, Emma just stares at her son, dumbfounded that he is there in front of her when she watched him die at Jefferson's hand three times the night before.

It takes a while, but eventually Henry's rapid fire talking slows, and he notices that something is wrong with his mother.

'Mom, what's wrong?'

'Nothing, kid,' Emma manages half-heartedly. 'Nothing,' she says once again, shaking her head as her voice breaks and tears begin to fall from her green eyes.

Henry is on her in an instant, moving to her side and enveloping her in a crushing hug.

Emma's reaction is hardly one that he expected.

Reacting out of pain and fear, Emma screams, dropping to her knees and curling into the foetal position. Regina rushes out from the kitchen, turning to Henry for answers as she swiftly drops beside the blonde.

'I just hugged her,' he exclaimed. 'I didn't mean to!'

'It's okay, Henry,' the brunette assures. 'Go up to your room, I'll be there shortly.'

When Henry is gone Regina turns to Emma, whose sobs are silently escaping through her open mouth.

Regina is at a loss. She doesn't know how to help Emma. She freezes.

But this time, Emma does the work for them, crawling into the brunette's lap and clawing at her blouse, hands eventually coming to rest around her biceps.

Emma clings to her like a little girl, sobbing and shaking uncontrollably.

When she finally calms, and clarity returns to her, she says but one thing.

'Everything in my life gets damaged. I'm deadly.'

Regina doesn't know what to say, so she just wraps her arms tighter around the blonde, one hand stroking its way through Emma's unruly curls, the other drawing circles on her back.

No matter what anyone said or did, Emma would always truly believe in the depths of her heart that she was toxic.

A/N: I know it is probably not the ending that you hoped for but I wanted to try to stay true to the characters. I truly believe that Emma will never stop believing that she is damaged goods so that's what I wrote. Hope you enjoyed it. Please R&R.