There was no denying that this town was unusual.
It was unusual even before Miss Swan turned up.
Emma sat with Henry Mills, warning him that his chocolate ice-cream was melting and that his treasured book sat on his lap directly under him, in harm's way. Their legs dangled down over the edge of the splintering castle, Henry was more than eager to spill his newest discoveries about operation Cobra and Emma was, well, happy to listen. She still thought he was a little delusional, but she'd rather blame Regina for that.
The kid was endearing… even if emotional attachment wasn't really her thing.
Across the road a police car pulled over, lights blaring and siren singing noisily. "Wonder what's up." She watched Graham get out of the car showing little care as he slammed the door shut and jogged over to the convenience store adjacent to the old black and white. He didn't look over at them otherwise she would have waved.
"It's probably just Robin."
As if on cue, a young girl with dark brown hair was led from the store in hand cuffs by Graham who was having a few last words with the convenience store owner. 'Robin' tossed her head back, and although neither Henry nor Emma could hear what she was saying it was obviously sassy. She didn't have the pleading, sorry attitude of a first time offender in any case and she opened her own door to the back seat as if she knew the drill well.
"Robin? Who's Robin?" Emma asked and Henry didn't disappoint, flipping over to the middle of the book where the 'Robin Hood' titled the page in beautiful scrawl.
"Right here." Henry pointed at the name.
"Robin Hood." She read aloud and resisted the urge to roll her eyes, a habit she was rather accustomed to. Emma had to read the first few lines twice before scowling. "Kid, the book's got it wrong, Robin Hood was definitely a guy. I might be rusty on my fairy tales, but that's history."
But of course, Henry was not convinced and felt the urge to enlighten his birth mother. "No, she is Robin. Listen. Once upon a time there was a girl as free as her bird she was named after. Robin Hood lived in a home carved from an enchanted tree in an enchanted forest with six young boys whose parents had been lost in the wars and so they found themselves lost also-."
"Lost boys…" Emma repeated aloud, wondering why that sounded so very familiar until it clicked that those were the very boys that appeared in Peter Pan. Not her favourite Disney movie but definitely a memorable one. "No, Robin had a group of merry men who helped him rob the rich and give to the poor." She said, surly as ever but leaning over to read the book beside him. Sometimes she wondered if the person who wrote this was completely high because these fairy tales were not the way she remembered them… Most of them anyway.
"Do you want me to read this to you or not?" Henry turned to look up at her with that sassy attitude he had surely inherited from her.
"Okay, sorry. Continue." She crossed her legs to read alongside him.
"Once upon a time there was a girl as free as her bird she was named after. Robin Hood lived in a home carved from an enchanted tree in an enchanted forest with six young boys whose parents had been lost in the wars and so they found themselves lost also. Robin had once been the happiest girl in the world until she fell in love with Peter, the baker's son. For Robin was a nobleman's daughter and engaged to the Sheriff of Nottingham who her father knew would bring her great joy. She found herself without love and cheated of any happiness her father promised her. Peter never forgot his love for Robin and came through her window one night, asking her to escape with him. They flew through the night sky with the help of faerie dust that Peter had kept safe since he was a child. They asked the green faerie to give them a home where they could not be seen by human eyes nor found by any other magic. Tinkerbelle was a good faerie and enchanted a large oak tree for them to live in undisturbed for their life. They were poor now but crafty and when a reward was placed on Robin's head for her betrayal they vowed to take revenge on the man who stole and lied and cheated all of Nottingham. They would steal from his home and from his carriage but, to honour and thank the green faerie who had helped them, they gave all of what they stole to the poor and hunted instead for their own dinner-."
"That's definitely not how I remember the story." Emma said, staring off as if mortified by what Henry was reading but conflicted about telling him what she remembered or pulling up the 'real version' on her phone.
"There's more to-."
"So you think that Graham is the Sheriff?"
"Hmmm…" Henry thought, staring over at the now vacant spot Graham's car occupied less than five minutes ago. "No, he's not the Sheriff."
In all honesty, Henry didn't know who he was.
Wendy sat with her legs crossed and arms folded in the Sheriff's office, eyes narrowed at Graham who seemed about as enthusiastic about seeing her as she was to see him. It was almost a unanimous belief that Wendy was a hood-wearing thorn in everyone's side. The town suffered her because her parents were respected and well, Wendy has always been a brat.
"You're going to get in real trouble one day. Your parents can't bail you out forever." Graham reminded her with a long suffering sigh.
As it were, Wendy's parents had been informed of her theft and her father had left for the station less than five minutes ago.
There was a flash of white and Wendy was smiling in her seat, blue eyes holding secrets. "My record gets wiped when I'm eighteen. I'm not worried." She shrugged, as if she had it all figured out. Like she could really live a clean life after that, as if Storybrook could ever really forgive her.
Anyone could tell you gossip is exhilarating. Anyone in Storybrook could tell you gossip is life sustaining.
"No, your record will be sealed. I'll know where to find it if I need it." He passed a box of donuts her way which she leant forward to accept, picking out one with jam filling, before sitting back in the chair. Wendy took a thoughtful bite.
"You're always watching me, aren't you Sheriff?" It wasn't so much a criticism as it was an observation, one that was becoming increasingly noticeable. Wendy made a note to check her dad's car for any bugs.
Graham pulled the box of donuts back but didn't seem so interested in them, instead he threaded his fingers together and rested his elbows on the table. "You need to be watched. You do bad things."
"Well, that's just who I am." She said simply, taking a defiant bite only to tear the flesh of the donut from the red middle. It was strange how savage the girl could look when at a passing glance she was almost pretty.
The Sheriff chuckled at the display and Wendy wiggled her eyebrows at him, as if her little show was sexy rather than strange. She wiped the sugar from her hoodie absently as he continued. "I have more faith in you than that. I think… You're a good person, who does terrible things." He decided after a moment, actually smiling at her in an almost fond way.
Wendy looked at him, rather mortified by his analysis of her. She was a liar, a vandal and a thief. And he was a cop. How he managed to see good in her was a miracle if it was true. "See, now I think you're just hitting on me." She teased.
"You're just after my attention, aren't you?" Graham smiled, always willing to play along with her flirty banter. Well, she was a frequent visitor and not nearly as hostile as his other regulars, like Leroy. When it came to arrests, this was one he hardly minded because believe it or not Wendy's company was entertaining. The girl was full of mystery. A total contradiction who would steal from a corner store then volunteer for whatever charities would let her work for them.
Graham thought she just needed a boyfriend to set her straight. And possibly therapy (though she'd done that for six months with no improvement). Art class wouldn't be a total waste either, her vandalism was rather creative. She had a steady hand.
"Ohhh. Is this a date?" She batted her spiky, black lashes repeatedly before fanning them low, gazing at him. "Well, if I'd known that I would have picked out something nicer to wear."
"And I'd be willing to bet that whatever you picked out, you wouldn't have paid for."
Wendy's expression fell and she shrugged, agreeing with him there. She pulled at the pendant on the long chain around her neck, fingers desperate for some sort of distraction when her donut disappeared. Attached to the chain was a small cage, finely crafted and made of gold. Wendy wasn't the jewellery sort, but the necklace had belonged to her mother and it was something she treasured and loved.
It was a habit that Graham had noticed she indulged in often. One that he thought was brought on by nerves, but she seemed so calm. As if this were nothing more than a parent teacher conference to discuss grades, not shoplifting. "Why do you think I'm even half descent?" She asked, gaze falling to the trinket in hand. The gold glinted, catching the sun's rays and throwing them back against the glass of the window. "You don't know me."
At first it didn't seem like Graham had an answer, he was silent. Then he shrugged and shook his head, lips pursed. "I don't know. I've made lots of arrests in my time. More than one would expect in such a small town; but yours is always different. Like you want to be caught."
"Why would I want that?" She threw the most obvious question at him and one that he hadn't figured out yet.
"Attention?" The answer came quickly, far too simple.
"From you?"
"From your parents?" Wendy scrunched her nose at the idea and shook her head as if the thought disgusted her.
"No… try harder Sherlock."
Graham laughed, but decided to play along with her games again. It was much more amusing than sitting in tense silence. "Alright, then… from me?"
"You know." Wendy chuckled and uncrossed her legs only to slump forward to rest on her forearms. "I've always hated sheriffs…"
Robin knew the woods far better than anyone else; even better than Peter did. They were her backyard, a place where she belonged and a place she cherished.
Perched up in a tree, she pressed her weight back. Robin liked the solid feel of the trunk against her. It grounded her and reminded her of her purpose with every breath she took that ricocheted her heartbeat through the wood and back into her ribs. She slept like this occasionally, back to a tree, on a branch that welcomed her weight and would not fall.
She'd been up there for less than an hour when a deer came into view. Robin heard the pitter patter of its hoofs before she could see the creature.
Quiet as a winter breeze, Robin drew an arrow, grey eyes narrowed on the beautiful creature. The bow gave slight creaks in protest as she drew the string back; one eye shut. She wanted a clean, silent kill if she could have it.
Robin took a deep breath, ready to release, but before she had the chance the deer was struck, dead instantly. Her fingers slipped and the arrow pierced the fallen creature's leg.
Pure panic. Never mind that her game had been killed, something that once would have irked her. There was someone else here. Someone that might know of her ransom and be seeking that very fortune. She hugged her bow close and pressed back against the tree again, willing herself to become invisible.
Despite knowing far better, her breathing turned laboured as she tried to steady her heartbeat and calm down enough to kill whoever came into view. Her fingers trembled as she shifted her hand to her waist to draw another arrow, waiting for the hunter to reveal himself. The slender body of the arrow rested against the bow as Robin drew the string again with a skilled hand.
Perhaps it was an army… the Queen's army… Perhaps this time there was no escape.
But it was only one man. One man that she should have heard as his feet fell far heavier than most huntsman she'd evaded. He paid her no mind though he must have known she hid in the trees, instead coming to kneel by the creature beneath the branch clutched between her thighs.
For a reason unknown to the young girl, respect for the dead creature seemed more important than her own life. In fact, it must have been more important than his own life that she could so easily take with his head bowed away from her like that.
Her grip fell slack on the string as he spoke.
"You have died so that I may live. Forgive me."
Was the huntsman crying?
"Your sacrifice is honourable. I thank you."
What sort of huntsman cried for his kill?
A snarl of a beast in her direction brought Robin back to reality, a reminder of her situation and her leather encased fingers drew the string taut again. Her fingers pressed against her lips as she watched the dirty-white hound. A wolf with one crimson eye growled at her, and the thief greeted him with a turn of her shoulder, arrow tip pointed at the wolf instead of the man.
The huntsman whistled and the wolf's fangs disappeared into its mouth, turning like a trained dog towards him. "If you threaten the wolves you are no friend to me." Still, he made no move to attack her; his bow remained limp in his hand.
Robin didn't speak, her jaw tight to supress the trembling of her thin lips. She'd never killed a man before. She didn't want to start with this one if she could help it. His face seemed so kind and yet his eyes seemed so sad. Youth replaced the laugh lines that should have been etched in at his age.
"If you threaten me, you are no friend to me also." He decided when her aim shifted to his heart once more.
His heart…
Robin watched the man as he set his hand on the wolf's head and whispered to it. There were stories of a man raised by wolves. One who would cry before he allowed himself to harness the flesh of any creature. A man who knew true honour.
A good man and a fool.
"The reward on your head would do me no good, little sparrow." He promised, but Robin was not stupid, she knew better than to trust this man with no heart. He knew who she was, even if he called her wrongly. He had to know. "I have little use for the gold and trinkets promised."
"And how am I to trust you?"
"I have no desire to gain your trust, only your promise that you will not fire that arrow at me or my friend." He pulled a hunters knife from its sheaf, earning another defiant glare and silent threat from Robin.
He set himself down and took the leg of the deer where Robin's arrow stood shamefully erect. Gently, as if the creature were alive still, he removed the arrow and began carving the leg free. "What are you doing?"
The huntsman set the leg against the base of the tree and only when his knife was strapped to his side again did she finally drop her bow to her side.
"Have this." He heaved the deer over his shoulder with its one leg missing, the carcass knocking clumsily against his sheaf of arrows.
"Why?" She asked sceptically and the huntsman sheaved his knife.
"Are you not hungry?"
"Of course. But I have need for more than that." Although not meaning to sound ungrateful the huntsman scowled at her greed. "I have a family."
His expression did not soften but he seemed to consider this. "Then return home Sparrow."
"Robin."
"Robin?"
"It's Robin, not Sparrow."
"Robin." He repeated again as if deciding if the name had any bitter taste to it when he spoke. "Go home. Be with your family." He placed the carcass down on the ground, instead taking the leg he had carved for the girl.
Certainly that leg would feed two.
She did not thank him for his kindness.
Robin let him leave without dropping from her height and waited until the sun began to sink between the trees. Only then did she hop down, flipping her hood up over her head and collected the meat. The journey to the enchanted tree took an hour and the extra weight slowed her down but she didn't mind the time to herself. It let her think about the huntsman who had let her go.
Perhaps it was a trap after all. Maybe he followed her still.
And yet, how could a man who cried for honour ever deceive another human?
The people lied.
She should have thanked him.
This huntsman did in fact have a heart.
"Don't you ever get tired of being the Mayor's pet?" Wendy asked, sucking the icing sugar from the corners of her bitten fingernails.
"I work for the law, not Regina."
"Oh please, Graham." She scoffed, wondering how he could be the only person in Storybrook who couldn't see how tightly he was wound around her finger. "She's got you on a leash and she's got me in a cage." Wendy withdrew her phone from her pocket as if losing all interest in this conversation. "We're just two mutts who don't know how to be free."
Graham tilted his head subconsciously with curiosity, narrowing his eyes as if he had no idea what she meant. But unfortunately he did. Both of them knew intimately the pain of isolation. They knew what it was to think that there was no one else in the world who could understand them. They were broken in a way no one knew how to fix. Graham, the man who couldn't feel, and Wendy, the thief without a purpose. They both wanted to do right by the other without knowing how.
They were caught in a trap. A prison for the human and a cage for the creature. Withheld in their own world, waiting for something to hold onto. For something, or for someone, to come and make them real again.
Maybe that person never existed.
For Wendy that person had existed.
His name was Peter Pan.
-
Don't usually write these but I thought I'd give an OC a go~. Peter Pan will feature in later chapters because, despite what it may seem like, Robin and Graham aren't going to hook up.
