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arianakristine · 6 days ago

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Title: Like My Mirror Years Ago

AKA The Prompt That Won’t Be Written

CHAPTER 17

Present

Graham held his temple in one hand, sighing heavily as he poured through the documents across his desk. The missing person’s report, the marriage certificate. It all placed itself neatly into those unanswered questions, never mind the cracks along the edges.

“You know it doesn’t fit, right?”

He didn’t bother to look up, and instead grabbed the thermos and gulped down more of the weak coffee inside.

He hadn’t even heard the door to the office open, but he also didn’t remember well enough to lock it behind him hours ago when he first decided to come here instead of his apartment. It had been a long night, and he could feel it all in the tension of his back and the strain between his eyes as the clock edged to three in the morning. His boots and jeans were still crusted with mud, and his mind was still swimming with images of Mary Margaret bringing the man from the brink of death.

He rubbed his forehead and squinted at the papers harder. “No, that’s the problem: it fits,” he contended.

Emma sat on the edge of his desk and peered down, chewing her lip thoughtfully. “Okay, it makes for a neat little story, doesn’t it? But it’s still not quite right.”

He finally looked up at her, his bones creaking slightly as he stretched from the hunch. “What about it?” he asked, not arguing, but more curious to what she was finding. Was there something she could see that he was blinded to, being so close to it?

She seemed to catch his tone, a smile quirking along her lips as she plucked the report from his pile. “This. How, in a town of less than 700, did a missing person not immediately get associated with a John Doe that shows up in the hospital during the same timeframe?”

“It’s a fair question. But we have at least 706,” he quipped.

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, those extra six really made the difference in keeping track.”

He grinned at her lazily, the fatigue draining any bit of defensiveness from his posture. “Now you’re seeing the trouble I have in such a big city.”

She narrowed her eyes, but her lips tugged upwards. “So, Kathryn’s going hard into the story about how they got into a fight about him leaving and that’s why she never sought him out, but if an unknown man was found two days later and it’s all over the news?”

He cracked his neck and stifled a yawn. These were the same questions that had plagued him all evening. Kathryn hadn’t exactly seemed untrustworthy; her relief and concern had certainly seemed genuine. But then there was the Regina connection; suddenly, the mayor was his emergency contact? If there was one thing to mistrust, it was always Regina. But if the pieces didn’t fit, what did?

“And here, where it says there was a storm. Now, we’ve had bad storms in the northeast in recent years: road closures, lockdowns, all of that. But it says he went missing in July.”

He didn’t remember a storm in July, until he did. Maybe a freak cold front? No, no, that wasn’t it. It was worse, wasn’t it? Maybe a hurricane? Swirling light and high winds stood out in his mind suddenly, along with a piercing pain in his chest. He sucked in a breath and blinked rapidly, rising from the chair to try to get his bearings.

“Graham?”

He shook his head. “Sorry. Sorry, just got a little …,” he trailed off, and thought about it for a second. A little what? He shook his head harder. “Lightheaded,” he finished lamely.

Suddenly she was there, in his space, a hand hovering over his shoulder until it cautiously rested. “Can I get you something?”

He looked up, catching her worried gaze. Once more, he was transported. That worry, those same eyes, and the sweetness of her breath …. He quickly broke their stare. “I’ll be fine. Sorry, it’s late.”

She backed up a pace and folded her arms in front of her. “You’re right. I didn’t mean to go all Colombo on you at three in the morning.”

He huffed a laugh and rubbed his temple. “Well, maybe I should be mixing water in between the liters of caffeine if I’m to keep my sanity.”

“Or sleep,” she offered bluntly.

“I could say the same of you,” he countered.

She hopped up onto the desk. “Who said I had a problem? I’m the one giving you all the pieces for this case. I know I’m on to something here, I can feel it.”

He sighed and leaned back, relaxing onto the scuffed wood so that they were eye to eye. “I know you are, too.”

The words brought a light to her eyes, glinting into focus. He cocked his head to the side to study her. He could see here why she kept her job; she had passion for finding sense of the pieces and making them right.

Maybe even, he dared to think, bringing happy endings to these stories.

“I’m a little understaffed,” he said, tilting his chin up and letting her gaze follow through the empty station.

She narrowed her eyes when she came back to his. “And that’s an excuse?”

He smiled. “Not an excuse. A job offer.”

She startled back, brow cocked. “I have a job, you know.”

It wasn’t a no, that much was clear. But there was an air there, a challenge for him to meet. He leaned forward and scrunched his nose a bit. “As a bail bonds person? Not much of that going around here.”

“And you’re saying there’s more sheriffing?” When his answer was a mere grin, she pursed her lips. “So, the 706 is too much to handle for one person.”

“I’m saying I’m impressed. Look how you helped today,” he coaxed. “David would still be out there if it was just me.”

“If that’s the case, you’ll be hiring Mary Margaret and Henry next?” she deadpanned.

He ignored her and leaned forward. “It’s not just the skill that you have for it, you have the drive. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t, you can admit as much.”

He was also considering the way they worked together: how they anticipated their next moves, how they listened to each other, how they didn’t have to speak each action out loud to know what the other was thinking. It was like they had always been like this.

He felt a warm, steady pulse under his fingers, and barely registered that he had slipped a hand under her sleeve to brush along her wrist, the move subconscious. It wasn’t deliberate—at least, that’s what he told himself. But now it was deliberate to stay. Her skin was soft, warmer than he expected, and her pulse was strong, alive beneath his touch. She hadn’t pulled away.

“I don’t do graveyard, you know. This is a special case,” she said.

He grinned. “Well, it’s unusual for me, too. Night shifts are few and far between, but if that’s your dealbreaker ….”

“And … if I accept?” she asked, chewing on her bottom lip thoughtfully.

“There’s dental,” he said with a grin.

She pushed on his shoulder and chuckled despite herself. “Gee, with an offer like that,” she teased. Emma’s touch lingered on his elbow, her thumb grazing the worn fabric of his shirt as if testing the connection. “Let me think about it.”

“You have my number,” he reminded.

She sighed. “I have your number,” she agreed begrudgingly.

His hand still circled her wrist, her unoccupied one on his elbow, and suddenly he was very aware of being in each other’s spaces. Something about her eyes, the softness behind the grit and armor intentionally bricked over it, it made him lean closer. “You should use it, you know.” He wasn’t sure if he meant the number he’d joked about earlier or something far less literal. He just wanted her to stay in this moment with him.

She huffed a small sound that might have been a laugh. “Still forward,” she teased, though he caught the clear sign that she was deflecting from the more blatant tension that was brewing between them.

He tilted his head to the side, lingering in the moment a beat longer, then blinked. He didn’t lean out of her space, and she hadn’t moved out of his, but it still felt like distance eased in between them. His hand flexed, just slightly, as if to reassure himself that she was still real, still there. She didn’t pull away, but her gaze broke, sliding down to their joined hands before darting back up to his face, a bit of that armor sliding back in place. Despite this, he smiled. “I think Henry appreciated today.”

She frowned slightly and then did pull back. “I don’t know that it was the step I was searching for there, but I think … maybe it was a good day.”

“You get to be his heroine,” he nudged, wondering if she was aware.

She scoffed softly and crossed her arms across her chest. “Mary Margaret was the hero today, and someone else was a close second.”

“Ah, but you forget: that’s his grandmother, there,” he teased.

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t start. But look … maybe it’s a good thing, him getting to see heroes in the people around him.” She looked at him pointedly, raising an eyebrow.

He beamed at her, pleased that she was seeing it. “And watch what he gains when that’s brought out.”

She hesitated a moment, the beat long enough for him to catch that she was fighting with herself against something. Her lips parted, but then she pressed them together firmly. She grabbed her purse over her shoulder and smiled stiffly. “He doesn’t know her all that well other than being his teacher. He’s certainly not seeing heroics in the person he’s living with.” She paused once more, then ventured, “It’s good that he has someone to look up to.”

He hummed an agreement. “So, you’ll really think about it, then?”

She had a strange smile on her face as she looked at him, seemingly peering into him. “It’s funny that you don’t see it,” she murmured, almost to herself, and then shook herself out of it. She smirked at him. “Yeah, I’ll really think about it.”

“Good,” he replied. “Where should I send your W4?”

She barked a quick laugh, and slumped against the desk. She tossed her purse down. “You’ll never believe it.”

He raised a brow, and leaned forward. “Try me.”

She rubbed the back of her neck and sighed grudgingly. “Guess I’m moving in with my mom,” she said.

He beamed at her, stifling a laugh. “I had a feeling that spare room wouldn’t stay spare long.”

She snorted. “Yeah, well. I needed a bed, especially since my new boss doesn’t sleep.”

He brightened. “Does that mean you accept already? My pitches are getting good.”

She chuckled and raised her hands up. “I didn’t say that. Not yet, at least,” she argued, even though Graham was pretty sure she actually did. She chewed on her lip contemplatively. “Might make good fiscal sense, true, but no good decisions are made after midnight.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll let you marinate,” he said with a laugh. “Roots take a moment to settle, anyway.”

She hummed a response that was more absent than expected. Suddenly, she looked about as tired as he felt. It felt like a glimpse beyond the barriers she kept up, just for a moment. “I can’t promise how long I’ll stay, seriously, I can’t. But … I don’t know. It’s not time to go.”

He felt something climb through him, a wild thing starting in his chest and filtering out through his fingertips at the thought of her not staying. He itched with the desire to grab her and give her another reason to stay; there was something about the vehemence that felt like déjà vu.

(It was as if he could tangibly feel what losing her was like, hand outstretched and fingertips touching but just missing the ability to hold on, slipping away into the storm)

He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. He couldn’t push her, he knew that well enough (but why?). He also couldn’t voice the certainty he already had, at least not now. “Well, I would be glad to be sure you were getting a steady paycheck in the meantime.”

She smirked. “I guess my savings won’t last forever, but I don’t exactly expect you to match my previous salary.”

“Ah, putting away the bad guys is less lucrative than chasing them down, I suppose.”

“More paperwork, too, I assume,” she quipped back.

“No avoiding that,” he agreed, as he looked back to his messy desk. He grabbed his thermos again and took a sip, meeting her green eyes in the dim light. “A couple perks, though,” he mused, thinking about the kid waiting in a mansion for a change just like this.

“A couple perks, maybe,” she half-agreed.

He sat back on his desk chair with a thunk, and then made a pillow of his hands to rest his chin. “So, when should I expect the news? Y’know, so I can work on my surprise.”

She rolled her eyes. “How about you hold your breath.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, and squinted up at her. “I’m big on anticipation.”

She hid a smile into gathering her things. She glanced up and pulled her bottom lip through her teeth. “Give me until I’ve had a full night’s sleep, okay? So don’t bother me tomorrow.”

He crossed his heart. “I solemnly swear not to mention the job tomorrow. Mostly.”

She finally stepped toward the door, her hips swaying in a too-pendulous way that had more to do with fatigue than seduction but may have had the effect, nonetheless. “Get some sleep, Graham,” she called as she slinked out the door.

He chuckled, and considered the empty room around him. He blinked slowly, imagining a partner by his side for these late nights. “I hope you’ll be here when I wake.”

Eleven Years Ago

The light was what woke him first.

His breathing was heavy, struggling to find that wakeful place, and his eyes were slits as he blearily took in his surroundings.

He coughed, and rolled to the side, trying to recall the previous night and why his bed was so pliant. He shook off the rest of his dreams and found Emma beside him, blinking the sleep out of her own eyes.

“Oh,” she murmured when she saw him awake. She pushed up to one arm, stifling a yawn. “I didn’t mean to doze. Are you feeling okay?”

He paused a moment, just taking in the sight of her. She was framed in the morning dawn which cascaded through parted curtains, a prism of light peering from the sun-storm outside. She reminded him of the colors of the fairy, and she felt as magical as anything he had ever dared to witness in his life. Before he could really think about it, he leaned in to join their lips, softly pressing her close.

Her gaze was hazy when they parted, and she looked ethereal. She cupped his jaw in her hand and then brushed over his forehead. Her lips were barely upturned, gentle and relaxed. “You don’t feel hot anymore,” she mused.

He stifled another cough and rolled over finally, trying to gauge how he was feeling. He remembered the fever that had started in him, that familiar feeling of infection. He frowned as he realized that he no longer had that sensation, that pending doom and danger. He shook his head, a half-answer to her question.

“Wolf boy? Should I get something from Ruth?” she asked.

“No,” he managed, and then looked back at her. He tangled his hand in the strands of hair closest to her face and finally smiled. “Actually, I think the tea helped.”

She smiled back at him, cautiously, as if unsure she should trust his words. “Can I see?” she asked.

He shrugged and pulled up the loose shirt that Ruth had provided, deciding it wouldn’t hurt to see for himself. He frowned a bit, not finding the gash that had been present just yesterday.

“Wow, that healed quick,” Emma said, and brushed cool fingers along a scar further up his ribs. He shivered, and caught her hand, warming it between his own.

“That’s not from yesterday. I can’t even find the edges of that one,” he said, frowning further as he struggled to catch a glimpse of it. There. Just a small red mark, barely noticeable. Strange.

She made a soft noise of confusion, tracing the scar from his childhood, finding its edges and the elongated X It made in his skin. “What made this one, then?” she asked curiously.

A knock sounded on the door, and they both startled in unison. Emma shook loose of it first, and pressed her forehead against his briefly before rolling out of the bed.

“How is our patient doing this morning?” Ruth’s sunny voice questioned, then clucked her tongue at the sight of him. “Ah, dear, you look worlds better. Did you get some good rest?”

He nodded once and was almost surprised that it was true.

Ruth tsked and fussed over him a bit, brushing back his hair and checking his temperature with the back of her hand. “Oh, you had me worried yesterday, dear. It looked like hemlock bacteremia when I first found you. There’s some around these parts, you know.”

He didn’t voice it, but he was fairly certain that’s what he found growing in the rock falls. Once he noticed the broken skin, he thought for sure the poison had entered his bloodstream.

“His wound has even closed up already,” Emma offered helpfully.

“Fortunate,” Ruth said with a nod. “It’s a good thing you had someone to keep watch.”

Emma blushed prettily. “So, he’ll be okay?”

“I think it’s a good sign,” Ruth said with a smile. There was a crack of thunder, and the room darkened as the rain rolled in once more. “Hmm, but that’s not. Let me get some soup ready for us this morning, and I’m going to make you one more tea just to be sure it’s out of your system, whatever that was.” She closed the door behind her as she hustled out, not leaving space to protest nor to offer assistance.

Emma leaned up on her knees to peer out the window, sighing lowly. “I was hoping it had passed,” she murmured. She sunk back onto the bed next to him, snuggling in to give the warmth missing from the morning. “We need to figure out a better way to pay her back. We’re taking her room.”

“Huh?” he asked, distracted. It felt like a drug, being wrapped up in her.

She grinned, seemingly pleased with herself. “It’s her room that she lent us. She’s sleeping out on the couch near the fire.”

He frowned. “Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’ is right. But we can’t exactly leave with the storm still this bad.”

He finally leaned up and looked out the window, watching the winding clouds and the thundering of the rain. “It’s better than last night, but you’re right,” he agreed begrudgingly, then closed the shutters and pulled the lock closed once more. The room enveloped in darkness, barely illuminated from the dying embers in the fireplace.

She sighed and continued to play with his hair. “You scared me yesterday.”

“I'm sorry,” he said solemnly. “I didn’t mean—”

“I know you didn’t mean to,” she finished. Her lip pouted slightly, and then she peered up at him. “But it still scared me.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. To know that she cared enough to be scared, that she was willing to tell him now. It felt like something big, and he didn’t know the right words. He leaned forward instead, covering her lips with his once more. When they parted this time, he didn’t even try with words. He just stayed there, waiting on her.

Emma pulled her arms around him, tugging him close until his cheek was on her breast, over her heart. It was thudding hard, belying the calm she had seemed to be in all morning. He tugged her closer around the waist, until there was no more space between them.

They lay there a long moment before her heart calmed. “So, where’s the scar from?” she finally asked.

“Hmm, oh,” he said. The pad of her thumb was tracing the scar again, somehow found easily. It was old enough that the edges were scarcely palpable; it was just the look of it that really told the story. The other side was worse, a broken rib that had pierced through skin, one that healed messily in the woods. That one had been more dire, and he barely remembered the scar her soft fingers explored now. “It was from years ago.”

“How old were you? I mean, approximately,” she asked, and the careful tone she took let him know she was hesitant to ask. It warmed him, the fact that she remembered how uncomfortable he was at people asking about his age.

“Unsure, of course, but maybe ten,” he ventured. It was maybe a year or so after Fionn, so it sounded right.

“It must’ve been deep. I don’t think I have a lot of scars from that long ago.”

He reached out, touching the tattoo on her wrist. “One under here,” he said, and then traced upward to the one between her thumb and forefinger. “And here.”

She was quiet for a moment. “Yeah, the one under the tattoo is older, when I broke my wrist as a kid, needed surgery. The other … ah, harder to explain. Do you even have cigarettes here?” She shook her head. “Anyway, we were learning about yours.”

He traced the path between her scars as she explored his, and his lashes scattered across his cheek as he remembered. “It was a different hunting group, before I’d really learned their patterns. They were after one of my—anyway, they shot their arrows. It hit me, and I didn’t understand at the time how to remove it without making it worse.”

“Ugh, worse, I can imagine that,” she said as she winced, finding those jagged edges. She peered back up. “You save him?” she asked.

He lifted his head and rested It on the pillow so he could watch her eyes. He pressed his lips together. “The first arrow, yes. I wasn’t as lucky when the others came though. You see … the pack was bigger, once.”

“Oh,” she said, and her big eyes swarmed with a sudden flood of tears. She looked away as if to gather herself. “Oh, wolf boy, I’m sorry.”

“That was long ago,” he reassured, even though he still felt those echoes from that night as the story unfolded.

“I know. But I know what that means, too,” she said. “Ugh, I’m so sorry I brought it up. You’re just getting better and I—I say the wrong thing a lot of the time.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head, and he was surprised he meant it. “Thank you for asking.”

She looked up and rolled her eyes. “No, it sucks, I know it sucks when people ask and you didn’t wanna talk about it, didn’t want to bring up those memories, and I just—”

“Hey,” he said, and his arms moved from her wrist to her shoulders. “Listen. I don’t say what I don’t mean, Emma.” He waited a long time, making sure that she was focused on him. He cupped her face between his palms, smiling gently. “Thank you.”

Her brow furrowed. “Why?” she finally asked.

He shrugged up a shoulder. “No one has ever asked before.”

“Soup is ready, kids!”

Emma startled and then ducked her head. “I’ll get you some. Stay in bed, okay?”

“Wait,” he said, and leaned up. His brain felt a little foggy, either from the sickness or from sleeping much longer than he was used to, but he was starting to feel that itchiness that came with being confined. At least he could go to the other rooms with her. “I’m okay, I can eat at the table.”

She frowned. “If you’re sure,” she said, sounding like she was anything but.

He laughed a little and rose, picking up her wrist to pull her to him. “I’m sure. About it all, Emma, I swear,” he said.

She scrunched her nose, but then smiled up at him. “You are, aren’t you?”

"With you? Yeah, pretty sure,” he replied before he could really think about the words.

Her eyes widened, and she blushed for the second time that morning. “Okay, wolf boy, let’s get some food.”

The wind was howling against the cabin once they entered the kitchen space, the rain pounding against the windows once more. David was already seated, and he smiled genially at them both as they took their places. He sat with an easy posture, his chair angled slightly away from the table as though he didn’t feel the need to belong entirely in their space. He cradled his bowl of soup in both hands, sipping thoughtfully as he watched the newcomers settle at the table.

“Now, it might be a touch more concentrated this morning, but it should still do us good,” Ruth said as she moved through the kitchen. “Emma, child, would you care for tea? One without the medicine, of course.”

She shivered slightly and nodded, “that would be nice, Ruth, thank you.”

“This storm is a hard one to follow, but I’d think it’s only got a day’s worth left in it,” David mused as he sipped up a spoonful from his bowl. “It’s a bad beat, but it should at least lessen up.”

He nodded, but still eyed the boy warily, not overly concerned with speaking more than he needed to.

David leaned back in his chair, his posture casual, but his gaze was sharp as he studied them. His spoon hovered over his bowl, forgotten for a moment, as he finally spoke. “So,” he said, his tone conversational but firm, “where is it that you were going when you found my mom?”

He stiffened, his hand tightening around his spoon. His dark eyes flicked up to meet David’s, and the weight of the question lingered in the air. He didn’t like the way David was watching him, like he was waiting for a misstep. He tried to see if there was judgement in his tone that never seemed to be in Ruth’s. There was none—or at least, none he could find—but something about the question put him on edge.

He must’ve been glaring too long, as it was Emma that answered. “Oh, no where in particular. We only went to town because we knew the storm was coming.”

“You went to town because of the storm? Well, why wouldn’t two kids such as yourselves just go home?” Ruth asked as she laid two bowls and their mugs out for them.

He grunted slightly as he took a bite of his soup.

“We live in the woods,” Emma replied simply.

He looked up at her, brow creasing slightly. He cocked his head to the side in question.

“The woods, dear?”

She met his eye steadily and took a sip of her tea before answering Ruth’s question. “Yeah, the woods,” she said. “We live out there together.”

His heart fluttered slightly, wondering if she was truly saying that she thought of her home as his.

“Oh, dear,” Ruth tittered, seeming unsure what else to say.

He frowned, but again it was Emma that answered for them both. “It’s a good thing,” she said with a shrug. “It’s quiet out there. Safe. More than most places.”

He caught the edge in her voice, the way she leaned into the word "safe" like it carried more weight than Ruth could understand.

David glanced at her, his gaze lingering a moment longer than it should have. “Safe,” he repeated, like he was turning the word over in his mind. “Well, I suppose that depends on how you define it.”

There was nothing outwardly threatening in the words, but he felt his chest tighten all the same. His hand tensed slightly against the table, his instincts prickling at the undertone in David’s words. He didn’t like the way David said it, as though he was testing them. His gaze flicked to Emma, who didn’t seem fazed, and then back to David.

He shot him a glance but kept his silence.

“There’s family there,” she finished simply, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

It was a simple word, one people used carelessly, but when she said it, it felt like something monumental. He hadn’t realized how much he longed for someone to call his world home, for her to call it that. He didn’t how much more he could feel towards her, but he knew for sure that a certain word that was thrown around in books and bard tales and townsfolks’ songs seemed … weak in comparison. He couldn’t think of more to do then find her hand underneath the table and squeeze affectionately. He watched as a smile tweaked her lips, though she didn’t offer more than that.

David watched the exchange, his expression unreadable, but he caught the subtle tightening of his jaw, the faint furrow in his brow.

“Oh, my,” Ruth said. Her tone was light, but the crease in her brow betrayed a quiet worry. “The woods can be a harsh place for two young people like yourselves. But I suppose,” she added with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, “you’ve got each other. That’s something.”

Emma shared a subtle look between bites of her soup, a blush tinting her cheeks just barely, and her hand sought his again under the table, squeezing gently.

David sighed. “Storm’s still got a ways to go,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “But it’s a good thing you’ve got a roof over your heads for now, I guess.”

Emma nodded, her grip on his hand tightening slightly, reassuring. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “Good thing.”

His gaze drifted back to David, the tension coiled tight in his shoulders. He didn’t like being in this house, didn’t like the way David looked at Emma—not with malice, but with a familiarity that he couldn’t help but resent. They’d been alone for so long, just the two of them. The thought of anyone, even someone as seemingly harmless as David, intruding on that felt like a threat he didn’t know how to address. It felt like a wild thing in his chest, one that if left unbound could spread through his fingers and out through his words.

The feeling in his chest wasn’t unfamiliar—it was sharp and hot, the same instinct that had driven him to protect Emma when the world outside had been nothing but a threat. But this was different. Smaller. Pettier. And yet, no less consuming.

But Emma’s hand in his brought him back. Her touch was gentle but firm, her fingers threading through his. The touch wasn’t just grounding—it was deliberate, a quiet reminder that she saw him, even if he didn’t speak. He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to let go of the tension knotting in his chest.

David’s gaze flicked between them, on the closeness that he barely noticed they had closed in on until her shoulder brushed his own. “Well,” he said lightly, though his tone carried a quiet edge, “you found us, at least. And we were here when you needed it.”

He tried to piece through the tone, to determine if the mistrust was there in David as much as it was in himself. He finally shot a look to Ruth, humming as she cleaned, her movements slow and deliberate, like she was trying to will calm into the room. Her back was turned, but he had the distinct sense she was listening. Maybe she always was. He realized that perhaps he wasn’t the only one protecting something here.

David’s gaze held steady, sharp but not overtly challenging. It wasn’t malice—he could see that now—but something else entirely: a quiet protection for what was his. For his mother. Maybe even for Emma. He didn’t like it, but he understood it.

He finally raised his eyes to meet David’s plainly, and nodded once. “Yes. It was fortunate. But we’ll also make sure we don’t overstay.”

David’s lips quirked into something that wasn’t quite a smile. The two met each other’s gaze headlong, a quiet understanding reached, a fragile truce. David nodded, seemingly satisfied with the boundary drawn, and returned to his bowl. Emma sensed his growing ease, keeping a lighter contact as she finished her meal.

#gremma #emma swan #graham humbert #gremma ff #like my mirror years ago #the prompt that won't be written #It's been like 4 years anyway here's wonderwall #crossposted to FFnet #will get it to AO3 eventually once I agonize over it a bit more

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arianakristine · 11 days ago

Note

For the mini Fic! I—broken glass x Graham and Belle?

This prompt was from a million years ago, and the first paragraph sat for a million years. Hi, everyone! I have a muse again for a minute!

Title: Broken Glass

Note: Breaking Free verse. Because this is a verse now.

He wasrelaxed for a moment, pulling his hands through the long strands of her hair asshe breathed heavily across the skin of his chest. She was awake but justbarely, mellowed and drifting towards sleep. It was rare to see her so atpeace, especially with all the running around they’d had to do in the past fewweeks.

Hefinally turned his head to look down at her, fingers cupping along her jaw toprompt her to look up. Her green eyes were wide and inquisitive, but her lipscurled into a smile to see his own.

“Hmm?”she murmured her question, and her hand snaked down his ribs until her fingerscaught over his hipbone.

Heshook his head and leaned down, nudging her nose with his. “Nothing. Just …quiet.”

Herlashes flickered across her cheeks and she leaned up to press a slow kiss tohis lips. “Won’t be long. But yeah … it’s kinda nice,” she agreed.

Hehummed an agreement; it wouldn’t last long. With the little spells slowlycoming apart at the seams came more danger from Regina and the rest of the lotlurking behind the curtain of the Dark Curse.

This most recent, and potentially significant,win for their side only heightened the pressure they were in, and most ofyesterday was spent on edge as they anticipated the fallout from it. She hadfrozen him out for half of the day, then picked fights for the other half. The pent-uptension had made their coupling quick, hard, aggressive, and now they hadfinally tempered down to something more akin to themselves.

“Quiet can certainly have itsadvantages,” she said huskily. She dragged her lips across his shoulder, herthumb absently rubbing across the line of his hip, and something in the bareintimacy of it stirred his blood.

He pressedher back into the sheets, biting down on her neck as his hands roamed down herbody. He was just about to devour her entirely and take his time doing so, whenof course his cell went off.

“No,”she groaned out, and hooked her leg over him. “Stay.”

Hekissed her languidly, toying with the idea of ignoring it completely as itbuzzed again. But the feeling of before, of anticipating another shoe dropping…. “Let me just check it.”

Shepouted. “Fine, Mr. Officer,” she teased, and untangled from him. She rose fromthe sheets and stretched. She didn’t bother grabbing a robe as she pattedtowards the kitchen. “I’m going to get a snack, then.”

Hegrowled under his breath as he watched her leave, snagging the offending phoneoff the dresser. He was glad to see the humor back in her, even if it was justto drive him crazy.

The newer technology she hadprocured for him after her pre-election stopover in Boston was still a bitconfusing, and he struggled to unlock his screen. It took him a moment to findthe now-familiar contact that had popped up with its alert. He sighed and draggedhis hand through his hair, letting the curls stand on end. Now, this was whathe had been expecting. “It’s an actual call. Problem at the Rabbit Hole.”

Emmapeeked into the doorway, a jar of peanut butter in hand, knife already stickingout of it. “Rabbit Hole,” she said slowly, a hint of dread in her tone. “…who’s that?”

He grabbedhis boxers from the pool of clothes on the floor and pulled them on. “It’sJefferson. He just caught sight of broken glass on the street; looks like noone’s actually called it in yet. And we know it’s not like he’s going to investigate,” he said somewhat bitterly.

He hadactually thought they were going to gain an extra fighter when they’d stumbledon the hatter on the hill, but he barely counted as an ally.

They had been coming from the townline, leaving behind a newly reunited family, when the cruiser’s tire popped.Graham hadn’t been too concerned about being stuck in the middle of the woods,though he had seen something different in the way Emma was reacting to it. Itwasn’t long before they understood it as intuition, and the hatter appearedmere moments later.

He had been enigmatic, stirring up thealready tense mood with pressing questions and barely-there threats. When herealized that they both knew about the curse, he had been surprised, relief looseninghis tongue to the point he was tripping over his words.

It was almost painful to admit thatthey had no idea how to break it. For Jefferson, it was sobering. Relieftransformed into anger, and he had been adamant that Emma had magic in her.Graham could have told him that much, but without any clue how to use it, itwas worthless.

They had left the mansion with afresh set of bruises around Emma’s wrist and an ache in Graham’s fist acquiredbefore the understanding had been come to. Jefferson was left to something lessthreatening, and had managed to begrudgingly admit that at least they had ateam forming for their side before they left.

That didn’t mean they had any newideas.

Jeffersonhad decided to bury himself back into his mansion, sulking and subdued. He poppedback up with random texts at random hours, half thought out plots and memoriesthat he thought could be helpful. In fact, some of those ideas were infact helpful, popping threads of Regina’s hold.

But he was never satisfied. So far,Jefferson thought it had all been fruitless, even though they had managed tostitch together some happy endings here and there. In his eyes, if it didn’tmean that Paige was Grace again, it didn’t count.

Graham rubbed the back of his neckas he thought about the implications of this observation. “So we don’t knowwhat’s involved,” he continued.

Emmafrowned and chewed on her lip. “So that means it might not have even been abreak in. It might have been a fight, or worse,” she collapsed against thedoorframe and her eyes rolled upward. “If it’s her, we should both go. I toldyou I don’t like the thought of her on her own there.”

Hegrimaced. “Well, we got Jefferson’s eyes in that direction at least. We don’tknow anything yet, and Mikey should have been on shift, too,” he reasoned.

“Istill say we should have gotten her elsewhere. It’s only been a few days, andwe know Sidney frequents that place,” she grumbled.

“Wetried,” he reminded, and tossed a shirt over his head. One of the fights shepicked earlier had been of that, but they couldn’t force anything on her afterdecades prior of just that from Regina. He pulled on his jacket and glancedback at her. “You can stay here, you know. We don’t actually know if anythinghappened. It was a long day today, and you’ve gotta meet Henry on the way toschool tomorrow.”

Hetried to facilitate her time with Henry as much as possible, for the both ofthem. Emma couldn’t quite see just how much the boy loved her, and was evenmore reluctant to admit to herself how much she loved him, but maybe someday.In the meantime, the time spent together kept them all sane. Especially Henry,who he worried after more than anyone else, stuck under Regina’s unyieldinghand.

Shesnorted. “Like I could sleep,” she griped and stalked over to the spare room.

Hepulled on his trousers and frowned deeply at his phone. There was still nothingfrom the Rabbit Hole. He quickly shot off an answering text to Jefferson,asking him to keep the telescope on the bar until he got there. If nothingelse, he trusted him to do that.

Whenshe came back, she was dressed and her hair was brushed through, but her facewas pulled into a scowl. “I don’t like this, Graham.”

Hecautiously grabbed her hand, thumb rolling over the tattoo on her wrist. Shevisibly relaxed, and he breathed through knowing he could at least get her todo that. “I know you don’t. But every day we get a little closer to the end, Iknow it.”

Shegrimaced and looked up at him. “I wish I had your optimism,” she said.

Heshrugged. “I only get mine from the kid, so,” he teased.

Shetried to hide a smile and then tugged on her red jacket. “C’mon, let’s get thisover with. I want to get back in bed.”

“I toldyou that you could sleep,” he said with a shrug.

“And Itold you I won’t be sleeping,” she said and tugged on his hand.

Whenthey pulled up, there was a light dusting of snow across the sidewalk,glimmering in the dim glow of the neon lights. He was barely able to discernthe ice from the shards of glass, though they were apparent. “Hey, walkcareful,” he warned back to Emma. He heard the car door slam and then thecareful crunch of snow under boots and knew she was heeding his words.

Heexamined the shatter of the door, spider-webbing outward from a hole towardsthe bottom. “Mikey?” he called.

“Sheriff?”Mikey answered, and he peeked through the fractures of the window. He waswiping his hands with a dirty rag, and he nodded. “Someone call it in, Iguess?”

“Yeah,”he said and sidestepped the glass to open the door. “Looks like you had someproblems tonight.” He scanned the bar area, but it looked like just the threeemployees were left, along with Leroy on the back stool finishing a drink andalmost asleep. Granny must’ve kicked him out.

Mikeyshrugged. “Ah, nothing much. I’ll get it boarded up so no one gets in and thenI’ll sweep up the walk. Be good as new by tomorrow. You know how these drunksget.”

“Anybodyhurt?” Emma asked as she ducked through the doorway.

Mikeyput a stool on the bar top. “Some egos, maybe, Sheriff two.”

Herelaxed, especially with the teasing tone Mikey had taken. It was a tossup howpeople accepted Emma now, whiplashing from blatantly ignoring her toconsidering her a saint. Mikey, for all he didn’t know of his former self, wasat least ready to let the new title slip off his tongue easily. “How’d it start?” Graham asked, flipping out anotebook. Even if this had nothing to do with the feeling from yesterday, he’dhave to do his job at least.

“Withme, probably.”

Graham turnedto find the girl in question. Her hair was thrown up on top of her head, makeupheavy, and she was in an electric blue tube top, sheer stockings, and shortsthat belied the blistering cold outside. Her normal accent was pushed back bythe coarser twang of her cursed one. She wore a smirk and a hand on her hip.

“Who are you?” the voice asked,dark stringy hair obscuring features. The figure was small, frail, huddled intothemselves. The voice was plainly female, if hoarse in disuse.

Graham hesitated, and glancedback to the two behind him before responding. “I’m the Sheriff,” he answeredsimply, and decided to use the excuse they meant to give the nurse beforeJefferson took the matter into his own hands. “We have reason to believe youare here under false pretenses.”

The girl untangled her limbs andher face caught the moonlight. Graham sucked in a sharp breath, suddenly struckby familiarity. Emma was close, fingers brushing up against his own. He turnedto her and swallowed, inclining his head slightly. Jefferson was right.

The prisoner in the tower. Hedidn’t know her name, but he knew enough that Regina thought her importantenough to capture rather than kill. Important enough, but yet not so importantas to shine any light on her imprisonment. There had been one aborted rescueattempt, he thought, but without any follow-through.

Jefferson had promised a blow toRegina. If she still wanted the girl hidden even with the curse, releasing hercertainly would be.

Jefferson was impatient, andpushed to the front of them. His eyes were dark, jaw set. “Come with us.” Heyanked her to her feet and she was lifted like a ragdoll.

The girl’s eyes were wide,scared, and she let out a sharp squeak of what he hoped was surprise and notpain.

“Jefferson…,” he growled, andtook his shoulder. The man’s answering look was blank, as if he didn’trecognize what he was doing as wrong.

“We have to get her out of herebefore Regina’s lackeys catch on,” he said, his tone patronizing. “I would haveguessed you’d realize that, being that you used to be one of them.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Emma cutin sharply, and pushed the hatter back. She pinned him with a glare. She turnedto the girl and frowned. “Look, me and Graham, we’re from the sheriff’s office.We can get you out of here.”

Her eyes flashed back and forthbetween all of them. “I don’t,” she hesitated and then licked her lips. “Idon’t know why I’m here.”

“You don’t belong here,” Emmasaid firmly, and then pulled off her leather jacket. She draped it over thegirl’s thin shoulders and guided her toward the door. “We’re going to get youhome.”

Heshook off the memory. “Not your father again, Lacey?” Graham finally asked. Itdidn’t look like the handiwork of the Queen, though he knew that Regina must beseething over her loss. Maurice had been set up in place as explanation for herimprisonment, though, so the curse still had him pushing against his daughterout in the world and out of confinement. It had been the initial push-back ingetting her reintegrated into a life.

Laceyshook her head and crossed her arms over her chest. “Nah, he’s keepin’ hisdistance for now,” she said and moved to the pool table. “It’s the guy that’sbeen mooning all over me since I started work again. He took offense to metryin’ to snag a date off Keith.”

“Keith,”Graham murmured, and his jaw tightened. He barely remembered the man from theother realm, but enough that he was set on edge. He turned to Emma, wonderingif she got the same vibe from his cursed counterpart. She was staring rightback at him, and gave a bare shrug.

“Wait,so this was some big macho fight over you? Don’t guys know?” Emma said withforced humor.

Laceysmirked and pulled a couple pool sticks back into the rack. “Well, anyway. Hetried to pull some punches, got them both kicked out. Next thing you know, thedoor’s all shattered to hell. Angry pricks.”

“Who’sthe other guy, then?” Graham asked, and scratched the back of his head. Hehated the fact that her cursed persona had no problem exposing herself todanger. He could barely see the kind, open face of the girl he once knew behindthe personality of this woman.

Shesmacked her gum and moved the cue chalk under the table. “The landlord.”

Hestartled. “What?”

Emmaset her hands on her hips, jaw tight. Her eyes were flaming, and he could seeevery last bit of residual anger from the election on her face. “Gold.”

Grahamnarrowed his gaze on her. “Gold?” he asked, and turned to Mikey forconfirmation. Mikey bobbed his head, still wiping down glasses, but not reallypaying attention. He turned to Emma next, feeling that pit of dread suddenly takingmore shape.

Instantly,it made sense. A secret prisoner in a tower was one saved for leverage. He was not expecting aconnection to Rumpelstiltskin, but Regina would want to wield stakes againsthim in this world just as much as she would in the other.

Hewondered if it was better or worse that she was out of the hospital basement,for any of them.

Laceyspun on her heel and reached for the whiskey on the top shelf. She pouredherself a glass and pushed a messy lock of hair behind her ear. “I don’t knowwhy he’s been so damn persistent. Talkin’ about keepin’ me safe and all that. Ican take care of myself,” she ground out.

Emma slid next to him, and he couldpractically feel her wariness. “Sure, Lacey, but it doesn’t hurt to take someextra precautions. You’ve been back on your feet for, what, two days?”

Laceyshook her head and grinned wryly. “So it makes sense that I wanna get back tomy routine, right?” She took back a shot.

“Lacey,take it easy. It’s comin’ out of your tips,” Mikey warned, and then disappearedinto the back room.

“Yeah,yeah,” she muttered and tipped her head at them. “Want any?”

Hecould see Emma’s head shake in the negative in time with his before they shareda look. Graham tucked away the notebook. “Look, Lacey … I understand that youwant your freedom—“

“No,”she said firmly, and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I deserve my freedom. If Dad hadn’t had melocked up in the first place, this wouldn’t be an issue,” she ground out.

Grahamgave a conceding nod. “You do. But it doesn’t hurt to take precautions. Maybetake a week off, get settled.”

“And dowhat? At least people know to look if I don’t show up at work,” she argued.

Graham’shead dropped, and he silently agreed. Emma came to flank him. “Maybe itwouldn’t hurt to take up a self-defense class or two, though,” she said dryly.

Laceysmirked. “That I might consider.”

Oncethey had obligatorily written down their notes, taken their pictures, andlogged the statements, they walked out together back into the snow. Grahamshared a look with her as the patched up door closed behind them. “We tried,”he said, seeing the furrow that creased her forehead.

Shetook in a deep breath and her shoulders slumped. “Yeah. I know we did,” shesaid dejectedly.

“Is sheokay?”

Theyboth turned toward the dark alley, barely making out the outline of the figurein the shadows. The accent, however, was unmistakable.

Graham’sshoulders squared. “That’s not your business.”

Hestepped forward, barely glancing toward the broken window. “I just need toknow.”

Emmalocked her hand in his and glared at the man. “Why? Haven’t you caused enoughtrouble?”

Hisanswering look was impatient, and he leaned heavily on his cane. “She must bekept safe, and I am only looking to that. With Regina you can never be tooprepared.”

Emmawas tense, and only glowered. They may agree about Regina, but blindly trustingGold was a mistake only to make once.

Gold took the silence in stride,and sneered. “So, perhaps a deal’s in order.”

Grahamraised his chin. He hadn’t outright told the man that he had his memories,hadn’t told him that he knew who he was. He suspected he knew anyway. “I don’tmake deals with people I don’t trust,” he said darkly.

Goldsneered. “Then maybe it’s a good thing that your girl here owes me a favor.”

Emmavisibly bristled, and her spine straightened. Her grip on his tightened. “’Hisgirl’ gets final say in which favor she says yes to,” she replied haughtily.

His eyetwitched, and Graham gently tugged on her hand to bring hershoulder-to-shoulder with him. He was sure they didn’t make too intimidating apair to an immortal like he was, but he needed to punctuate her stand with oneof his own.

Goldnearly rolled his eyes. “Fine, then, Huntsman, what will get you two toconcede?”

Grahamtried not to falter. He had never been so blatant with the secret they bothwished to hide. His jaw set and he growled under his breath. “Why does itmatter?”

His jawset, eyes taking on a murderous glint. “I don’t much enjoy repeating myself.”

Emmasqueezed his hand gently and then released it to take a step forward. “Thehearts, then. Help us get them back.”

Grahamturned to her, feeling that empty place within him tighten in a strange sort ofway. He couldn’t believe how much he loved her, even without it.

Gold,for his part, scoffed. “Much good they will do you.”

“Betterthan being a pawn for Regina’s use,” she countered.

“Clevergirl,” he replied, grin stretching across his face darkly. The imp he once wasfelt much more apparent in his current state of amusement. “It’s a deal, then?I help you both get the queen’s rotten hands from those souls, and you keep myBelle safe.”

“How can we trust that you’ll be able to doit?” Emma asked cautiously.

Hisgrin deepened. “You still doubt me after the election?”

Emma gloweredat him. “Not a good time to remind me, Gold.”

“Do youhave magic?” Graham cut in, having finally centered his thoughts.

“Ah,this is the world without it, Huntsman,” he replied.

Hecocked an eyebrow. It wasn’t exactly an answer, but he chose not to press. Yet.“Then she doesn’t have any?”

Gold’seyes glimmered. “The only one that has any semblance of magic is beside you.”

Emmafaltered at that, and glanced between them two blankly a moment before rollingher shoulders back. She still grappled with that idea, and it was painted clearas day on her face in this moment. Still, she pressed forward. “Is that why you’rehanging on to that favor?”

“Like Isaid, clever girl,” he replied. “But it also means we have an advantage againstthe queen. So, we should have a plan to get those stray internal organs in theright spot, especially since this one still has his own missing,” he said,jutting his chin in his direction.

Graham’scheek twitched, but he didn’t rise to the unspoken bait. “Sure, of course a plan’sin order. But the onus is on you for it.”

“A deal’sa deal,” he said darkly, and held out his hand.

“Why doesthis deal feel very Faustian?” Emma muttered for only him to hear beforestepping forward to shake his hand. “What exactly are you expecting from us?”

“Fornow? Make sure that the queen and that simple-minded twit Maurice don’t get nearher. I’ll have more for you later.”

Emmastepped back, a crunch of leftover glass beneath her heel. “I’m sure you will.”

Grahamneeded to remind himself: the enemy of my enemy and all that. “But you will notapproach Emma alone,” he bit out his own terms, his voice wrought with thegrowl he would have preferred to expel.

Emmacaught his hand again. “And you don’t approach him alone. We will reachout to you.”

Goldchuckled darkly. “Sheriff and Sheriff. Understood.” He dripped back into theshadows, but then lingered. “But know this – you may think you’re in charge. Ijust trust that you think about that before moving forward with any threats.”

Theydidn’t get a chance to answer, but Graham doubted there was much they couldhave said to counter him. Instead, he took a deep breath and turned to Emma. Shewas frowning deeply, but managed to shrug a shoulder up at his inspection. “Gottalive up to my name somehow. Not the best way to start, maybe, but there areworse ways.”

Hesighed. “You don’t have to be anything you don’t want to be,” he reminded.

Sheblinked. “Well, it’s apparently already been written,” she said bitterly.

“Hey,”he prompted, and finally took a glance around. “Let’s get to the car.”

Hewaited until the door slammed and they were at least slightly insulated fromprying eyes. She was still tense, and he started the car to get the heater blowingat the very least.

Therewas a long pause as her lips darkened in the heat, her arms crossed over herchest.

“Youdon’t have to do this, Emma. You don’t have to trust Gol—”

“I don’ttrust him. But Graham, this is the right thing to do.”

“We’regetting in deep, now,” he said softly. He leaned in and rested his fingertipsalong her jaw gently. “I just need to make sure you’re keeping yourself safe aswe chip away this curse.”

Sheleaned into his touch, looking thoughtful. “That’s why I keep you along for theride,” she said, teasing. She twisted to catch her lips against his skin. “Letme do this. It—Graham, if I can’t get yours back in your chest quite yet, letme make sure she can’t leverage anyone else in the same way.”

He shuthis eyes tightly and then nodded. “Okay. Okay, so long as we’re smart aboutthis. It’s got to be together.”

Shenodded once, firmly. “Together.”

Everythingin his past would have pointed to it not being enough. Despite this, he feltalmost optimistic.

Together,a savior and a wolf. This could work.

#lola2255 blog #gremma #gremmafic #fancytyper #this is literal years after you prompted this and idk if you're still on here but #whoops there's still a muse in there #my fic #kristy answers stuff

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