"I believe, deep down, we're all capable of unspeakable things.
Where it starts or what you call it, I don't know"
-Aaron Hotchner, Criminal Minds
Your eyes have long adjusted to the dim light. You've been here for as long as you can remeber, always watching, always waiting for the next adventure. And it always comes. You been particularly interested in this man lieing in front of you. Standing at six foot three, Grayson Gold has always intrigued you. The battle between good and evil. Light and dark. Villain and hero. The very stories keep your life from being an endless cycle, a circle full of unending boredom. Your job is to keep witness. It's boring, and uneventful...Excpet for him. And others like him. You've watched them grow and flurish, battling their demons from with in, emanating the very struggle in your own soul. Which is why your here. Watching his chest fall and rise ever so slight, the pale light reflected off of his now blood soaked shirt. He should be dead. You should be watching his young foster child grieve at his grave, instead of seeing him here. Now. Being able to wipe the hair that had fallen on his forehead off to the side. It's unnerving. And then he shifts. You freeze, your breath hitching in your throat, your stomach twisting into knots. Shit
He's calling for his lover by the time you peak your head over the bush.
"Amanda?! Swan! Love, where are you?!"
He's frantic, his right hand hovering slightly over his side, as if he expected blood to rip through his veins and gush onto the floor. Common sense hasn't hit him yet, any notion of logic wiped from his brain as his survival instincts flip into action. Suddenly, he freezes. You tense. With a dagger in his left hand, the dagger, he is more than a formidable opponent. He's death risen from the grave itself. And as his eyes lock with yours, you start to realize that staring into death himself would be better.
His eyes are wild, and emotions swirl in them, like a raging hurricane that leads to the door of his soul. Anger. Betrayal. Fear. Love. Desperation. Passion. You see it all.
So you try not to kick yourself in the ass as he points his sword at you.
"Who are you."
Sighing, you have but no choice but to leave the bush. This wasn't going to go well. You point to your mouth, then your book, and mimic the action of reading by flipping the pages absent-mindedly. Your praying that he understands or can at least comprehend this extremely desperate attempt at Charades, because damn it, you are not dying now.
Or not.
Because, just your luck, he barely looked at you. Instead, he decides to shift the hilt of his dagger under your chin, pushing you back towards the cold, stone pillar. His gaze is unmoving, angrier than the hottest rage yet they look cold to the touch. They narrow, becoming mere slits as the swords tip scrape's the edge of you jugular and you let out a small yip.
" I shall not ask again, dearie."
His voice is laced with danger, with enough blood lust to make even his father shrink back, even if for a moment. The mix between his father Scotts-Irish accent and his mother's British one makes you shiver, and you again try to mouth your innocence. Your frantic, the fesr rising in your chest, striking your heart, and you wave your arms faster.
It's a miracle when he lowers his sword. A bigger one when he begins to apologize, a hand running through his messy hair, a trait you've known he does when he's exhausted.
Miracles seem to have taken a favor on you today.
OUATOUATOUATOUATOUATOUATOUATOUATOUATOUATOUATOUAT
The two of you have been traveling for three hours. Three hours. He doesn't talk much, and your inability to do so makes for little conversation. But, your use to it. Like a deaf man adapting to the silence, you have too. You've learned to read between the lines, and analyze silently, never becoming bored. Your not the first to work like this. You sense that he too works in a similar manner as yours, and the two of you quickly learn to communicate. You banter with your eyebrows, and in a particularly playful moment, he finds a name to call you.
The Reader.
You like it. Ominous and creepy, you feel it suits you occupation. And then the silence begins again. You have so many questions. You can feel them itching under your skin, your curiosity tugging at the man in front of you. His father was one thing. Easy to assess. So, you begin to wonder. With their lives so diffrent, how are they so alike. The two of you share many of the similarities. Your tall. You both share the same olive skin. You both have the same dark brown hair, and the ferocity in your eyes. But, your personalities? Astoundingly diffrent. So why are your fates so entwined, so desperatly parralel to eachother? You don't know.
You've pondered of this very question for weeks before he showed up.
You think of his family. Dysfunctional as hell, but hey? Who are you to judge? His close friendship with a pirate who would wring his father's neck. His loyalty to both Snow and Charming and Regina, during a time when both parties were at eachothers throats. There were times when you couldn't decide what was more puzzling. His family, or his undying loyalty.
And yet, something's always remained the same.
His true love. Amanda Eva Swan. Many in your realm dubbed her "Part One of the Saviour". While the nickname was lame at best, it was true. She was born a few minutes before Emma, and the two of the were inseparable, like two parts of a whole. Headstrong and intelligent, you can comprehend why he was attracted to her personality. And like her bond with her sister, her bond with Grayson was one of the strongest most have read of.
That's why you believe its so dangerous.
OOOO
The two of you stopped walking about an hour later, both of you panting like fish out of water, both of our collars are now sticking to the nape of their necks. You were tired. You wanted to flip on the floor and sleep for hours. You looked up at Grayson, who had now shrugged out of his button down and tied it by the sleeves around his waist. Now, he was wearing a simple black tee shirt. The shirt clinged to his biceps, and you quickly turned your head before he caught you staring.
You weren't staring like some love struck puppy. Oh, no.
You were staring at a scar. A ugly red scar the size of your hand which ran on the length traced the edge of his bicep, and the hole in his shirt told you that he had acquired yet another one. You wanted to leaf in your fantasy forever, but It was as if those scars brought you back down to earth. He was supposed to be dead. Dead. The word sounded foreign in your mouth as you stared at the man standing next to you. His muscles expanded as he took a breath and his shoulders tensed at the slightest shuffle. This man, in no way was dead. But yet he was. You'd seen it happen. Or rather, seen it through your book. They all had. Your little tight knit gang of "Readers" who followed every word, every character. Everyone had ideas. of what had happened, why it happened. but they were mere rumors.
And then came the theories. Plausible ones. One's that told of a being of mere theory himself. They told stories.
Of a land far away.
Where time flowed freely and you could relive any moment.
A man.
A wizard.
A villain.
He controlled time itself.
They said he could take a part of you, and travel it forward and backward in time.
He could bring you back from the dead.
He could erase you from existance.
But they were just rumors, right? Simply children's stories, told as warning so the wouldn't wander. It was just a fairytale. He, a simple fairytale character.
Then again, the were all just fairytale characters.
Weren't they?
YES! I'm have finally finished. Whew. First, explanations. My friend gave me a epic AU theory, and I, in turn, ran with it for 3 hours, and ended up with three chapters of this. This was also my chance to break the fourth wall - ish. Look out for the Reader's POV. It's important. Also, if you guys have any suggestions on what to add to the Reader's thought, let me know! You guys are the readers after all.
Now, the next two chapters are in the process of being edited, sooooo...You guys will have to wait for a bit. Also, I'm going to start updating a couple of my others stories. Criminal Minds, Bones...Maybe a one-shot on Grey's...Im not really sure. So, yea. This one will be update soon, maybe by the end of tomorrow, so I guess I will see you all then!
Asta La Pasta,
Star