Chapter Text
Fifteen-year-old Henry Swan stood tall next to his blonde mother in the cemetery. They were both dressed in black, listening as the priest said the blessings over his father Neal Cassidy’s casket. Emma gave a sob and turned to her son, burring her face into the lapel of his suit jacket. Henry rubbed her back until she calmed, then held the hand she continued to grip.
The past week had been rough on their family. It had all started when the Sheriff had shown up to tell Emma and Henry that Neal had been killed in a crash. Though normally stoic, Emma had burst into tears at the news. They had been together since a year before Henry was born and never married. Both adults had always said that it was never the right time. Henry was sad that now it would never happen. He immediately stepped up to be the man of the house even though he was still in high school.
A week after Neal was buried Henry got a job being a bus boy and dishwasher at a local restaurant. Emma insisted that he save his hard-earned money for college like his dad had wanted for him. Henry was a smart kid though. He noticed the nights his mother spent crying and when he stole a glance at the bills saw that they had barely been surviving with both of his parents’ incomes. Neal always made sure that somehow, some way, their family was never wanting. Without him though, Henry knew things were going to get rough.
Emma didn’t try to show Henry any weakness though. She picked up a second job to pay the bills and get anything Henry may have needed. He never tried to ask her though. He tried to help ease her worry by grocery shopping, cleaning, and buying what he needed for his junior year with what he earned over the summer.
It wasn’t until just before school started that Emma introduced him to her co-worker Killian Jones. Henry instantly disliked the man based on gut instinct, but he saw Emma smiling more so he kept his mouth shut. He figured that ignoring his gut was worth his mom being happy again.
BTRAM
A knock sounded on his door, pulling Henry from his homework. He turned in his chair to face whoever was at his door. “May I come in lad?” Killian asked with a smile.
“Sure,” Henry answered, closing the textbook he was working out of for math. “What’s up?” he asked as the man sat down at the corner of his twin sized bed.
“Wanted to know how school’s going for you,” Killian casually said, pulling a flask from the back pocket of his jeans.
“It’s good,” Henry responded as he watched him take a drink. Ever since Killian had moved in with them a month earlier, Henry noticed the man was never far from some rum. That was already back in mid-September.
“Good, that’s good,” Killian said, sounding a bit distracted. “Listen, I need to ask you something.” Warning bells rang in Henry’s head but he listened to what Killian had to say. “I want to marry your ma.”
Henry looked at the pleading look on his face. His sixteenth birthday was a week and a half away and he realized in less than three years he’d be off to college. “As long as my mom is happy,” he said but still felt his gut churn as the words left his mouth.
“Thanks lad,” Killian exhaled, clapping a hand on Henry’s shoulder. “Can’t wait to call you my son.” He got up and left, and Henry’s unease grew.
Much to Henry’s teenage displeasure, Emma and Killian married a month later in a small ceremony. Emma quit the job she was at with Killian and even though Henry still didn’t feel right, she seemed to be happy. There was always a look in Killian’s eye that kept him on edge.
The calm after the wedding only lasted a few weeks. Killian’s drinking increased and he revealed that he had quite a temper. Henry watched as his mom became timider as time wore on. She started wearing her hair loose and big gaudy sunglasses to cover the bruises among her face, and long sleeved shirts to hide the ones on her arms. He never caught the actual act though, just the aftermath once he came home from work or school.
The next day after the appearance of the bruises always yielded flowers, sometimes chocolates or jewelry, as an apology. Killian normally wasn’t around though after the damage was dealt and Emma begged Henry with fear in her eyes to leave it alone. Henry normally agreed, but only because she begged. He remembered one day he came home early and saw Killian had thrown her beloved red leather jacket out and got her a different jacket.
“What are you doing?” Henry asked, knowing that Emma would have never gotten rid of the jacket. It was the first thing she ever bought herself that was brand new once she was out of the foster care system. “That was my Ma’s.”
“She doesn’t need that ratty old thing anymore,” Killian spat. The slur in his speech was highly evident.
“Henry, please,” Emma pleaded, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him away. “Killian’s right. I-I don’t need it.”
“But Ma-”
“Just drop it, please.” Henry looked at her, then at Killian, who was smirking as he took a swig of his flask, and huffed before going into the small house. He missed how the smirk turned into an angry scowl.
A few hours later as Henry was getting himself ready for bed he heard a loud slap. He jumped at the sound as yelling followed. “How dare you let that boy disrespect me like that!”
“He didn’t mean any disrespect, Killian,” Emma tried to placate, but Henry jumped again as he heard another slap and another yelp.
“I’m his father now, he needs to respect me!” There was another slap and the sound of someone hitting what sounded like a wall. “You need to accept that I’m in charge of this house now!”
Henry head another slap and what he thought was whimpering and his blood boiled. Emma never deserved to be abused, he thought as he recalled stories she had told him. Henry formed a plan in his head that night that would put a stop to it all.