Sorry if you're also reading my Undertale story, but this idea has been killing me for weeks now. This disregards the visual novels and the whole 'Bigby in Europe until Snow uses lycanthropy knife on him' thing. You'll see why later. Post chapter 5, a month and a half since the Crooked Man was brought in, assuming he was thrown in the well. Also, did anyone else realize that Bigby's room number at the Woodlands is the same one he got at the Open Arms hotel? 204.

It started out the same way most things do; a little thought in the smallest crevices of your mind. It slowly grew and expanded from there, something some thoughts never experienced. This particular thought climbed its way high and could easily be found in many trains of thought that have, would, and were running through one newly appointed Deputy Mayor, and perhaps the occasional civillian or two. The only difference between them is that one has dismissed it, to move on with their lives and onto new thoughts, while the other's mind quickly became attached and incredibly conscious of its presence. In this case... conscious meant approving and curious. Curiosity is a very fickle thing, and hard to truly describe; it's something most simply claim they know. Examples can be provided but a definition truly pertaining and applying to all different mindscapes, through all its dips and mountains, is truly impossible. To divulge further would mean to dredge up the fact that not only can it not be explained, but there are different... levels, would be a supposedly good word for it.

Yes... different levels of curiosity. For the intents and purposes, the levels will be ranked based on a number scale. Zero will be no curiosity at all, though this is impossible, and will be used as a reference point from which to move from. Take an average joe. Say he is rather noncommital and, though once desiring something greater, has come to a point where he realizes his future will be just his day job and coming home to store-bought meals and perhaps some TV. He hangs out with his friends but never has much interest in anything anymore, but if he were to become curious about something, hypothetically, he'd be a level four. It'd never become large enough unless smaller, more specific aspects of his being dictated otherwise. Of course there was obviously more to the person than that, but to describe the odd existence that was a conscious mind and unique personality would not only take many, many, uncountable years simple to fully go into for one person, but that the further you moved from the core, the more liable it was to change. Even now, these rankings have a margin of error.

But imagining they are correct and not liable to change, Miss Snow White had something higher than a 15. As already stated, it was just a small thought, but now she could hardly keep it off her mind. It was something most thought rather trivial and obvious; after all, it was in all the stories, right? But... Bigby was very different than the furry antagonists depicted in the stories. Take the Little Red Riding Hood one, for example. She'd never seen Bigby go full-on wolf, and had little knowledge as to what it truly looked like, but based on simply knowing he was a wolf it didn't make sense to her about when he 'put the grandmother's clothes on'. He may sometimes act before thinking, especially when highly-emotional - though she had the idea he would deny it to his grave; even in the morgue, it would never be brought to light - but he wasn't stupid enough to think that would work. She'd never actually seen Bigby truly winded, but that gave her little idea as to how the Three Little Pigs story could have truly gone down. After all, if there was a discrepancy in one of them, couldn't there be multiple discrepancies in each? It was all just... going about in many ways as possible to make him seem like the worst thing out there.

And though Bigby had apparently tried to eat Colin and his brothers, they were surprisingly docile and highly-tolerant of each other. They considered each other friends, even. Or perhaps they both understood their places on the food chain, and though one was a carnivorous predator and the other was omnivorous prey, instead of trying to blame each other just settled with it and moved on. Both were highly irrational at times, but they were surely capable of this, Snow was sure.

Still, that left her in a questioning mood. If the stories were incorrect, then perhaps the whole... eating people thing was also false. Then... it all traces back to when he was young, doesn't it? Was he born a human and cut with a lycanthropy knife, or born a wolf and cut with the lycanthropy knife? If he was a wolf, did he have a pack? If he was human, did he have a family? How did he get cut by the knife in the first place? Was it an accident, or was it on purpose? Did he do it willingly or was resistant? Or maybe he was even unconscious during the ordeal? Was it even a knife? Maybe a syringe? Or some kind of casting spell? Did he have friends? What about siblings? What were his mother and father like? If he lived in a village, what was it like? Was he happy? Where did they go? Did he ever have a childhood crush? Was he very different from how he is now? What was his favorite pasttime? If one or both of his parents baked, did he have a favorite of what she made? Or was he fine with anything? Who were his mom and dad? Was he maybe adopted and raised by someone else? And still, she had many more questions.

These questions often ran amuck in the official's mind, sometimes making it a bit difficult to try and better Fabletown. Now that she was in control, they could tell that she was definitely trying. Sometimes the bar-flies would even come up, just to see if they could help with anything. Both were extremely grateful for the justice done to Lily's murderer and were glad to lend a hand or four when and where they could. Snow was glad for this. Of course Bigby was doing his part, but most of the work he was assigned, he would attend to alone in his office. She tried not to go in there as much as possible though. The room was riddled with the overwhelming smell of the smoke Huff 'n' Puffs produced in annoyingly large amounts. The fact that there was no window didn't help much. That was reason enough for Snow to consider it a 'crap brand' as many others had called it; not that she smoked herself. It was hard not to notice how excessively suffocating the large clouds of smoke it produced were, though, and in comparison to what others called higher-quality brands, they made less smoke and she figured the quality of the tobacco was different and went with it. Still, with his oversensitive nose, she wondered how he could stand it.

Regardless, with the two titans preoccupied with their own business and a medium-sized line waiting by the business office door, she had to both retrieve some files from Bigby and leave a few more on his desk. The Fables who waited outside the front door weren't being sassy when they saw her as she passed by with full arms, calling back for Bufkin to sort through some paperwork on her desk. In fact, some even nodded in her direction with small grins. They knew she was doing her best and right now that was all they could ask for, especially from the events they were still in the process of recovering from... though things were definitely showing signs of improvement already. Minimal, but present.

So when she knocked on his door and when there was no answer, she had let herself in with the sort of unlock-every-door-in-building key (just the offices, naturally) that higher management could often be seen having and using. Bigby was nowhere to be seen in the cramped confines of the room, most papers scattered among his desk. It was simple deceit, though. While to the unknowing mind and naked eye could it be seen as utter chaos, but by now Snow had learned that Bigby knew where he left everything. It was dysfunctional order, she mused. As long as he could make sense of it, that was fine. Fortunately, the files she had specifically given to him to be returned were stacked in a horizontal document rack he'd started keeping on his desk. The last time he'd needed it was when King Cole was actually around to be the actual Mayor, but ever since Crane came into office he never felt like he required it. Crane never really gave him any important documents that he needed to return, so he tossed it somewhere for the longest time. Now that Snow had taken his place, though, he'd returned it to its place.

She quickly went in and pulled the folders from the slot, and purposely put the new ones in a different slot. So he knew they'd been swapped. But when a little gleam in the corner of her eye piqued her interest, she pushed aside a small parcel partially covering it to uncover a shiny key. The number '204' was harshly carved into the side; clearly it wasn't made or imprinted. Likely it had been done by Bigby himself. This was, then, most likely to be the key to his apartment.

Admittedly it had been wrong to go in his room without asking permission, or even telling him, but she couldn't help herself. The endless possiblities her mind cooked up were becoming too much, and she had wanted to end them once and for all. Oddly enough, she'd actually found something of interest in one of the drawers in his kitchen which she had taken back to the Business Office for inspection. It was a little wooden box, mostly narrow. The entire topside it was seperated from the rest by a thin cut, from which Snow could assume that it was some sort of latch, though no hinges or lock was to be seen. She couldn't open it either. Bufkin had been sent to search for something that could maybe help as to solve the mystery of the box, but so far had drawn up a blank.

So, although it took a few calls, Snow finally managed to reach a particular witch.

"Greenleaf's residence."

"Hello, Miss Greenleaf? It's Snow White."

"To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Well, I actually found something rather interesting... it might be magical, but I didn't want to proceed without making sure."

"Alright... what does it look like?"

"It just looks like a plain block of wood, but I'm certain the topside is supposed to open up. For some reason though, I can't get it to."

"Okay. Is there a lock or something on it?"

"No. There aren't any hinges, either."

"No symbols or markings?"

"None at all."

"Okay then... I'll drop by the Business Office tomorrow to take a look. Don't touch it."

"Alright, Miss Greenleaf. Thank you for your time."

"You as well." Greenleaf had abruptly hung up after that, but that wasn't what was on Snow's mind at the moment. Why would Bigby have something like this? That question alone kept her up nearly all night. She would've been nodding off at her desk if she wasn't too buzzed about finding out what was exactly in the box. So buzzed she didn't realize that Bigby could have noticed its absence by now. Aunty Greenleaf soon walked in without bothering to knock and came straight over to the desk, where the box was. Snow White had stood up to stand next to her, as if seeing it at a similar physical vantage point would maybe help. This whole thing was highly out of character for her, but when things leave to fester they can often become unpredictable.

After what felt like forever to the blue-haired woman, Greenleaf finally drawled out a long sigh. "It seems to be some sort of memory box. Usually older Fables will use it to help them remember things. By design usually only the owner can open it, but if you know the right spell, among a few other options... whose is this, anyway?"

"Just found it in the building. Can you tell whose it is?" She adjusted her glasses and took to observing the box for a few minutes longer, while Snow waited with baited breath.

"It appears to belong to the wolf... perhaps you should return it to him. Will that be all?"

"Yes, thank you Miss Greenleaf." Her little escapade would have to end there. She was no witch, and didn't know what those 'other options' were, unless Bufkin could, on a smaller chance than she liked, could find something of that area. It would just continue to grow in her otherwise. She didn't like the idea of that a whole lot; she enjoyed her sanity, thank you very much.

"If you have some more questions, just call me up." She gave her a sly grin and left the office, leaving Snow to ponder if maybe Bufkin really could find it. Perhaps even the Magic Mirror could help her find the book she was looking for. Better than nothing, she supposed, as she stood up and went towards the reflective item that had a hand in starting her story.

"Mirror, mirror, if you're willing... show me something to uncover the fillings." A wispy sea of green filled the image until the mirror's face appeared.

"Dear Miss Snow, if you will, go have him retrieve that which sits upon a sill." The image changed to show a thick, faded book somewhere within the Office's library. The binder read 'Practical Magic' in shimmery letters, fairly distinct from the rest of its worn cover. It leaned in the corner of a shelf, and on the side of the actually bookshelf read '511'.

"Bufkin!" The green flying monkey, already in a drunken stupor, flitted over to Snow and the mirror. He simply glanced into the image and sighed as he flew off to retrieve it. Snow dismissed the mirror and went to sit at the desk, temples already aching in what she knew would be a full day. But at least she would get some satsifaction out of the little trinket on her desk. For now, though, for Bigby's and her own sake, she put it into the middle drawer of the desk and locked it. She felt guilty, but was determined in the prospect.

The Sheriff knew many of the darker parts of their stories, as she quotes, 'The less said about them, the better', which he had directed at more than the obscene dwarves. She reasoned it was only fair that the secret little parts of his story that had never seen the light of day were at least known to one person. There were only four other Fables that she would show it to, if at all, whom she knew would keep it under wraps if it truly was unimportant. Anything else would be considered a rumor and be ignored. Not that she felt good about being a cause for rumors about someone she had high respect towards.

The large book was unceremoniously dropped onto her desk; she had to lean back to keep her fingers from being caught between it and the desk. That would not have been very pleasant, to say in the least. For the time being, Snow pushed it to the side of the desk under some other items, where anybody who came in and out of the office would not see... lest they were snooping.

Open. Close. Open. Close. Open. Close. Open.

It's not there.

Close. Open?

Still no.

The small figure of what seemed to be a child, perhaps a first or second grader, paced around the cramped room, almost in full-blown panick. They were almost shaking, occasionally putting their second and third fingers in their mouth and biting down to try and calm themselves. But they simply couldn't. Everything they had worked for up to this moment, centuries of guarding and secrecy could be turned to naught but dust. And the unconvered weakness could be turned on them.

It was just a single problem, really. But it was truly massive. See, a special thing was missing. They would be royally - funny given their neighbors - screwed over if it was opened. And watched. All the way through, a few years' worth of small, specific memories could be their downfall, hidden among millennia worth. They weren't, in terms of physical years, a child persay, but was forever, both physically and mentally, a child. Even funnier, given they're older than anyone and everyone who had ever set foot in this building.

If that box was opened, they thought, it would be all over. There would be a monumental and abrupt change. And they just couldn't have that.

Close. Open. Close. Open. Close. Open. Close. Open. Close. Open. Close. Open. Close. Open. Close. Open.

Sadly, they had no idea where the memory box was at the moment.

I liked the beginning. Then I started plot-dumping and lost consistency. Then I made it far too frigging obvious. I'm sorry T_T But Bigby is amazing and I wanted to do an actual story that not only portrays a softer side of him, but explored a childhood that the author gets to make up, due to disregarding the visual novels. The set backstory is coolbeans and all that, but I also like it when you just get something shoved in your hands and are told 'make something'.