A/N: Hi all! I'm back with a new AU. I wanted to get it up to celebrate the new episodes coming on Sunday (and I also wrote faster than expected). This one is pretty different than anything I've written before but I'm so excited about it and I hope you are too! As a little preface, Emma and Killian in this story are similar to the characters we see when we first meet them in the show. They are hurt by the world and scared to let anyone in. You're going to see a lot of anger and fear and family issues (no Neal or Milah in this but there is Brennan Jones). You have to trust me though that I know where I'm taking them! Also, each chapter title is a piece of music, either classical piano or modern music that I think fits the mood of the chapter. I've put a lot of research into the pieces and into classical piano for this story all ready so I hope you all like it (but please correct me if I get anything wrong)!

I've got seven chapters written as of now so I'll be putting one up a week (sometimes two if the response is really good), probably on Sunday or Monday from now on. If you like what you read please give it a follow and a review! Let me know what you think! Enjoy!

Here's this piece of music if you want to listen: watch?v=rjxXF7x7Lu0

Disclaimer: All aspects of Once Upon A Time belong to ABC and the show's creators, Adam and Eddie!

The ocean waves pushed up the beach as the wind picked up, white caps racing for distance up the damp sand. Somewhere above a seagull called as it flew inland, a warning of the impending storm. The sky had clouded over hours ago, now an ominous slate grey. September on the coast of Maine was an unpredictable time, this incoming storm a stark contrast to the morning's sun.

Emma pushed her blonde waves back for the tenth time as they whipped around, frustrated that she'd been drug out in such weather. The golden locks buffeted back against her cheeks, stinging her eyes along with the sand the gale was picking up. Hair a lost cause, she crossed her arms and watched as two sisters argued further down the beach. Mary Margaret had insisted that her stepsister Regina and Emma both join her for their yearly tradition, weather be damned. It seemed that Regina, like Emma, had had enough fun. Mary Margaret, on the other hand, with her endless optimism, argued that the rain would hold of for a bit longer. Bribes of a hot drink at Granny's or the use of a new lipstick floated to Emma on the wind as Regina's annoyance mounted.

A few minutes later Regina seemed to win and followed her bouncing sister back to Emma. "You need to smile more," Mary Margaret announced, turning back to stare at the cresting waves. There was a wistfulness in her gaze, eyes darkened with memory. Emma had seen the look enough to know what it meant. It was days like this, the reminders, that Mary Margaret missed her mother the most. But Emma couldn't help but be a bit bitter. At least she knew her mother hadn't left on her own volition.

Emma rolled her eyes. "I am smiling," she replied, humouring her petite friend because this tradition was something Mary Margaret counted on. The tradition, a final beach visit on the last day of summer vacation, had started the year Mary Margaret's mother had died. That was five years previous and two years before Regina had been included after her mother had married Mary Margaret's father.

"No, you're humouring me." Emma snorted at the truthfulness of the words. A lot of what Emma and Regina did was to humour Mary Margaret. They just weren't cut from the same positivity cloth. Where Mary Margaret was as pure as Snow White, Regina was short tempered and Emma was closed off. But they balanced each other out well. It kept Mary Margaret grounded, Regina distracted and Emma from spiraling to complete isolation.

Rain began to splatter down onto the beach. Regina cursed when the first droplets hit her, before grabbing one of her sister's hands and yanking her back towards where Emma had left her little yellow car. Emma sprinted after them, holding up the keys and wishing for automatic locks on the doors. The car was an old yellow Volkswagen Beetle that worked most days and was devoid of anything fancy, including locks that opened on the first try. They were all soaked by the time the doors had all been unlocked.

Emma wrung her hair out onto the plastic mat on the floor, the water splattering against her flip flop clad feet. Regina reached from the backseat and turned on the heater, grumbling about catching their death. It wasn't that cold but Emma wouldn't complain about turning the heat up when her clothes hung off her, heavy from the rainwater. Mary Margaret just pushed her bangs from her face and grinned.

The storm had darkened the evening further now that the rain was falling, turning the sky black despite it only being just past seven. It was too dark to drive without light from her car, something she'd gotten used to over the balmy summer. As soon as Emma flicked on the headlights Mary Margaret smacked the wheel in front of her, causing her to jump.

"What in all that is good?" Emma followed Mary Margaret's finger.

A man was walking across the parking lot, hunched against the rain which had begun to drive down sideways, leather coat collar yanked up around his head. Emma didn't recognize him, which was strange in such a small town. Gossip was practically all the newspaper contained. Everyone knew everyone's business, problematic for people like Emma who wanted to keep their personal lives secret for the sake of those she touched.

"Go see if he needs help," Mary Margaret instructed quickly. "He doesn't look very old." Which in Mary Margaret speak meant 'go get him in the car and maybe I can set him up with you.'

Emma looked to Regina for help. She just wanted to go home and avoid Mary Margaret's futile attempts to find a guy who saw Emma and her walls and scars as a worthwhile challenge instead of just baggage. Regina just shrugged. "You know she'll give you a few days peace if you try."

Emma sighed, cursing under her breath at how right that statement was, and put the car into drive. The man took no notice of the engine's rattle as it started or of the high beams illuminating the parking lot. He was heading towards the beach, walking at a pace that suggested he had no place to be despite the awful weather. The car pulled up next to him and Emma rolled down the window.

"Hey, you need some help?" Emma called out, squinting at him. Water rushed into the open window, landing in her lap. He didn't turn to us so she yelled at him again, wet and impatient. "Oi!"

The man turned then, showing that Mary Margaret had been right about his age. A dark flop of wet hair fell over his forehead, matching stubble just starting to peak through down his jawline. The man was lean, erring to the side of drawn, skin pale save for a scar across one of his cheeks. The man would have been attractive through strictly his bone structure but his eyes were what caught Emma's attention. They were a crystal blue, deep like the ocean and clear like a summer sky, fringed by what looked like smudged black eyeliner.

"Hi," he said slightly dazed, staring back at Emma. A raindrop ran down his nose unnoticed. Emma broke the eye contact first, uncomfortable with the intensity with which she was being watched, and moved to watch her fingers hit against the bottom of the steering wheel.

"Are you alright?" Mary Margaret asked leaning across the consol. Emma looked back up. The man stiffened when he realized there were other people in the car than just Emma.

He nodded but Emma didn't believe him. She'd seen the walls thrown up in a time that could rival Emma's own building skills. The man looked hardened, like he had wiped all emotion from his face. His eyes couldn't be hidden though. There was an anger and an emptiness to the blue eyes, the emotions fighting for dominance in a way Emma felt deep in the pit of her stomach. She knew that combination well.

"You need a drive somewhere?" Emma asked, studying the man.

"No, I'm fine, lass." The accent coming out in his words startled Emma. It sounded English. Behind her Regina drew in a breath at the familiar lilt, confirming Emma's suspicions. It was one she heard often, her own boyfriend Robin being British.

"Are you positive?" Mary Margaret asked. When the man didn't answer, instead turning away from them with a nod she called to him again. "Are you new?"

He turned to us, his eyes blazing like molten led. "Yeah, I'm fine. And yeah, I'm new. Sod off. I'm not your charity case."

"Okay, whatever. See you," Emma rolled up the window and glanced at Mary Margaret. Her pale brows were furrowed as she pouted in confusion.

"Charming," Regina drawled, raising a manicured brow at the man who was stalking away from the car.

"What was that about?" Mary Margaret asked as Emma pulled out of the parking lot leaving the angry man behind them.

"Don't ask me," Emma replied. The windshield wipers squealed even though the glass was wet.

"I don't think I've ever seen someone so angry before," Regina put in, swivelling around to see the stranger. Emma could see him in her rear view. He was sitting on the ground at the edge of the parking lot, head between his knees. For a moment she wanted to turn around and offer comfort. She quickly squashed that down as a moment of confusion. Emma didn't do intimate emotional exchanges. Hell, she wouldn't even allow physical affection from those who she loved and this was a stranger.

Emma shook her head at Regina's statement. She'd seen angry. Regina had been that angry when she first arrived in Storybrooke. Emma didn't think she'd ever seen anyone so broken looking that wasn't staring back at her from a mirror. That anger had come out of an absolute desperation to get away, to be left alone, to not be pitied. It was shocking in its intensity but not unreadable.

The town slid past in a wet blur, streetlights wavering beside the storefronts. No one was on the street or out in cars. Water gushed under the tires as Emma turned off the main street and parked in front of the mayor's house. It was a large Roman style mansion, intimidating like Regina's mother Cora, the mayor. Both sisters unbuckled and got out, waving goodbye and shouting promises to meet the next day.

Emma lived two minutes away above a family diner that belonged to a family friend, Granny and her granddaughter Ruby. It was where Emma had been living since grade two. She pulled into the parking lot and got out, letting herself in the backway and listening at the door for the nightly news. It wasn't late, probably only eight so Granny should still have been up. The apartment was silent though, the only noise the creaking of the door as it opened.

Inside the lights were also off. Emma flicked on the overhead light and scuffed her way across the white and green linoleum floor of the kitchen and checked the counter for a note that would have explained where Granny had disappeared to. Maybe the restaurant had needed her before closing and Emma had missed her by coming through the back? There wasn't one, or even a covered plate of dinner laid out which Granny did whenever Emma missed hers.

Emma moved on to the den, illuminating that as well. The forest green walls seemed to suck the light back in. The door to Granny's room, just off the den, was open. Emma peered in, unsure of what she'd find. Inside Granny was asleep, snoring lightly. Emma pulled back and shut her own eyes for a moment. It was times like this that reminded her of how old Granny was getting, how long Emma actually been living in the apartment. If only Ruby hadn't gone away to college. She would have been able to address Granny getting older but never slowing down. Emma just wanted to panic, terrified at the thought of losing the one person who had kept her.

Emma pulled their door shut with a soft click and sat on the couch. It was old like everything else in the house, made of scratchy fabric in a garish pattern but that didn't matter. If Emma sat right in the middle of it, where the springs had given way, it was like sitting on a hammock. The steadfastness of it, despite its wear and tear, was a comfort.

Emma turned on the television and muted it, watching pictures flash but not really paying any attention until the colours lulled her to sleep.