Summary: Emma and Killian, best friends with traumatic pasts, are leaving their small town for a better future together.

A/N: Inspired by and title from The Lumineers "Sleep on the Floor." Definitely recommend listening to this beautiful song while reading. Unlike the song, mentions of alcohol, physical and sexual abuse. Nothing graphic but certainly hinted at. I am in no way excusing abusers or attempting to blame abuse victims.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Once Upon a Time, all rights and reserves belong to the creators Kitsis and Horowitz. "Sleep on the Floor" performed by The Lumineers and written by Jeremy Fraites, Wesley Schultz; copyright Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.

If she listened closely, she could hear the faint sounds of a railroad whistle off in the distance. Steady, constant, unwavering. Exactly the opposite of her heartbeat.

Emma placed her phone on her bed. His sultry voice from not five minutes ago ringing in her ears and playing on repeat in her head.

She squeezed her eyes shut in contemplation. This is what she wanted, right? What they both wanted. There was nothing for them in this town. If they did not leave town tonight, when their spirits were ready and the opportune moment was now, they may never make it out.

Sure, she had Ingrid who had taken her in and adopted her at the surprising age of seventeen. But even now at age twenty, it still didn't feel like a home. It didn't feel like she had a family. Things had remained awkward despite reassurances from the social worker and Ingrid that with time the awkwardness would fade, to be replaced by familial normalcy. Perhaps familial normalcy could have taken precedence, if it not for Emma's battered and bruised past. The only normalcy Emma had was the fulltime job she held since high school, working at the checkout counter of the local grocers. No college future for her. No future at all.

Funny, all she wanted as a little girl was to be taken in and adopted by a loving family, to have a mom, a dad, to be loved, and cherished. To be wanted. To be worthy. She wasn't prepared to not feel the opposite when she finally was adopted.

Ingrid tried. Bless her she tried, but it wasn't enough. No amount of gentle and kind affections offered by Ingrid, not even her kind disposition and temperament, could quench Emma's emotional pain. Three years in, and Emma still felt her awkwardness. Always an orphan, always alone, always unwanted and unloved. Always misunderstood.

Except by him. He understood far more than any other helper ever could.

She was under no misguidance that Killian Jones was in any shape or form her "savior." No, Emma did not need saving by anyone and he had his own personal demons that haunted him. But in everyway that mattered he was something more valuable, more precious to her than anyone or anything in her life had been to her – he was her friend.

He was her best friend who understood her, even when she couldn't express herself, when she hid behind her walls and steely resolve when the foul and traumatic memories plagued her. No matter what, he understood without pushing, without provocation, without wavering. He'd simply hold her close and offer her solace, whether that'd be another drag from a cigarette, another swig from a bottle, or more times than not, a gentle yet fierce embrace.

How many times had he crawled through her window, climbed into her bed, and tucked her gently into his arms? How many times in the dead of night had she sat in the passenger seat of his jeep with the windows rolled down as he punched the gas faster just because she needed to feel an escape? And how many times had he taken a step back from her, being careful and cognizant not to touch her, yet remained nearby for when the memories passed and her skin stopped crawling and the bile released itself from her?

In the small Podunk but traditional town of Chester, Illinois she found in him the one person that challenged her steadfastly held belief of not being good enough. Battered, bruised, and broken on the inside, she was good enough for Killian. More than good enough, if she could truly squash her insecurities and take him at his word.

Emma opened her eyes and let out a breath. One more quick glance at her phone and she moved into action. She grabbed her duffle bag from under the bed and proceeded to throw her clothes and toiletries in. After zipping the bag closed she glanced around her room. Despite Ingrid's decorations, the room still looked bare save for the lone picture of her and Killian on the nightstand. Emma grabbed the picture and folded it so that it felt secure in her wallet.

Finding a pen, she quickly scribbled a note for Ingrid to let her know she was safe. She thought about letting Ingrid know her plans but chose instead to write a simple 'thank you' for all she had done for her. It was brief, not nearly as heartfelt as Ingrid deserved, but it was all Emma could muster. Perhaps when they were settled she would reach out to Ingrid. Maybe.

She left the note on the bed, in plane view so that Ingrid would be sure to find it.

The last thing she grabbed was Killian's black leather jacket from where it hung on the back of her door.

-/-

Killian rounded the corner and parked down the street from Emma's house. He shut the engine off and waited.

The windows were rolled down and he could feel the crisp fall breeze through the thin layers of his plaid button down shirt. He lit a cigarette to keep himself warm. He was anxious to begin the journey, but he would wait patiently for Emma.

The plan was to first stop at the bank and proceed on their way. Killian had been planning this leave for some time now, so after his final shift at work he had withdrawn the cash he needed and closed out his account. The bank would be open for another thirty minutes for Emma to withdraw her cash and close her account too.

Chicago was their destination and with it came bigger and brighter things for them both.

He'd spent far too long in this town. After Liam's passing he made plans to leave. He was twenty when it happened, more than capable of going out on his own, but then he met Emma. Despite all the pain and anguish staying in this town meant - a constant unchanging reminder of the life he had with Liam - he couldn't leave Emma to herself.

Not one for believing in soul mates or destiny, he did believe in kindred spirits. He understood Emma in a way he never thought he himself could be understood. A mother who passed away with his birth, a father who walked away caring more about gambling than the two sons he left behind – he knew what it was like to be unwanted and unloved. But unlike Emma, he had someone whom he could depend on in Liam.

Liam carried the weight for them. He dropped out of school at fifteen and pulled two shifts at the auto repair shop just to keep food on the table and gas in the jeep. He also kept Killian in school. As Killian grew older he wanted to quit school and help provide with Liam, but his brother wouldn't have it. "You have a future," Liam would tell him, "This is only temporary."

Temporary indeed. Liam's existence was just a blimp of joy to be taken away in his sad, pathetic life, save for Emma. They say no good deed goes unpunished, and Liam's death was proof of that.

Killian told Liam to simply call the police, but the noble idiot couldn't stand by and wait for help to come. So instead, parked at a gas station on a scorchering summer's evening Liam climbed out of the jeep and approached the man beating on the woman. He attempted to calm the man down and help the woman inside and for a moment it appeared to be working. But then he turned his back on the man and with one step, fell forward clutching his abdomen. The man had shot his brother point blank in the back, and in an instant Killian's life was forever changed.

He's still haunted by the nightmares, by the smell of blood intermixed with rubber and gasoline. By the sound of his own cries as he clutched his brother to his chest, rocking on his knees, praying for his reality to be a lie. But it wasn't. Liam died in his arms before the ambulance even arrived. And when the cops arrived and arrested the man, the woman Liam had tried to save cried and yelled for the police to not arrest her murderous, abusive lover.

Later, much later, wrapped in Emma's arms for the first time, he wondered how Liam could have died trying to save someone who could not allow herself to be saved. It took a year and several conversations with Emma before Killian allowed himself to let go of that thought, to accept that some people get so lost they don't know how to be found.

He and Emma bonded over their tragedies – their abandonment, their losses. But if Killian's misery was the loss of Liam, Emma's misery was her prior emotional abuse within the system and the sexual abuse at the hands of a particular inhuman foster father. She couldn't always talk about it, but with every old wound he became privy to, the more he wanted to protect Emma from any further hurt.

The more they shared with one another, the more they became the other's strength. When she needed comfort, he was there to wrap her in his arms. When he needed a drink to escape his demons, she was there with a six-pack. When either of them needed to run, they drove as fast and as reckless as possible on the outskirts of town.

But their friendship was built on more than just their shared anguish. Together, they helped one another experience wisps of childhood. They laughed and played together, creating innocent memories they hadn't experienced as children.

"Sharks and minnows, Emma, really?"

"You know the rules Jones, winner chooses the game. Maybe next time you should consider a different strategy for best out of three at rock paper scissors."

"That's not even a two player game."

"Best make sure you win then."

It didn't matter their age. If they were on a mission to have fun, the risky or innocent kind, they found a way. One of their favorite spots was the wooden park by the church. It was shaped like a castle and was equipped with a drawbridge and four steeples they could easily climb to the top of at night to star gaze. The steeples were their favorite destination on nights when the moon was full and they could sit together drinking beer and dreaming of a better life.

It was on one such night when he told her of his original plans to leave for Chicago. He told her his plans to find steady and satisfying work, an apartment, and if lucky make a White Sox game time and again. When he asked her what she thought of his plans, she replied simply, "I prefer the Cubs."

Not long after that conversation a few months later, he got up the courage to ask her again about his plans, but this time more seriously. He knew Emma wasn't happy with her life; being just like him, she was restless and stubborn - wanting more, deserving of more in life. He always believed that a man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets. He wasn't willing to dig his own grave but rather rail against his lot in life and fight for what he wants, and what he wanted was for Emma to join him. So mustering all the courage he had, believing in her and believing in their friendship, he asked her if she wanted to join him in an escape from town.

"And why would you want me to join you? I'm not your happy ending, Chicago is." She said it emphatically, almost daring him to contradict her. But he knew Emma, he knew she was still plagued by traumatic memories and unfounded insecurities just like him, and her question was just another wall. Another wall he would happily tear down.

Not one to shy away from an emotional challenge, he met her head on. "Don't you know, Emma? My happy ending is you."

He kissed her. It was gentle, sweet, completely new but in no way completely innocent. Never in their friendship had they ever shared a kiss that wasn't an innocent peck to the cheek or to the forehead when the other was in need of comfort. This was different. He deepened the kiss while caressing her face. In response, she wrapped her arms around his torso, bringing him closer to her and effectively holding on to him tightly.

Their separation was minute, their foreheads still gently pressed together. In that moment his anxieties kicked in. He knew he took a risk in their friendship by kissing her, never mind telling her she was his happy ending. He could have asked her to come with him to Chicago without breaching the barrier of friendship that led into the territory of something more. He loved Emma and their friendship wholeheartedly, but he could no longer deny how he was irrevocably in love with Emma, not while the prospect of a future together in Chicago loomed on the periphery. When he directed his gaze to meet her emerald eyes, his qualms were instantly steadied. She smiled upon him and whispered, "I'm still a Cubs fan."

-/-

Killian extinguished his cigarette as he saw Emma approach the car. Whether a believer or not, he swore not even Jesus Christ could save him tonight. Emma wore his black leather jacket and her golden hair was down in loose curls. She walked with a steadfast gait and had a determined look about her, but unlike her usual steely resolve when haunted by memories and hiding behind her walls, she wore a confident and infectious smile.

With his own smile a mile wide, he opened the door of the jeep and walked toward her as she ran the last few feet and leapt into his arms. He held her tightly as he spun her around in the air and kissed her sweetly on the mouth as he settled her feet back on the ground.

"Ready?" He whispered into her golden tresses.

It wasn't a necessary question. He knew Emma had decided on him, had decided on them.

She kissed him again, slowly and assuredly. With her arms still draped across his neck she nodded, "Ready."

Together, hopeful yet confident, they climbed into the jeep and set course.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Reviews /or comments welcomed and appreciated!