A/N: This is slightly Au. Sorry. If you don't like Aus, don't read (:
The Only Thing That Seemed Right
They tell him that his name is David Nolan, and that he is 28 years old; he's been in a coma for atleast five years, maybe longer; no one really remembers the exact date he was brought in. They just remember that it was a while ago.
He doesn't feel like David Nolan. He doesn't remember being David Nolan, or anything about David Nolan's life. He doesn't remember his wife, the blonde woman who comes to see him whenever she's not working, the woman who sits down beside him and shows him pictures of their wedding, their life, his life. Her eyes are wide with happiness as she recalls how they met during high-school, him being Captain of the Football team, her being head-cheerleader, how they fell in love almost instantly.
It's all blank to him. He sits there in his bed, his head resting against a white, fluffy pillow, listening to Kathryn's tales, her desparetly trying to get him to remember something, to remember her, but he just doesn't. She sighs everytime he stares at her blankly, as if she's going to moan at him for not remembering, even though he can't do anything about it. He hates to admit it, but he helps rather happy when she gets up and leaves, going home.
The man, Dr Whale, tells him of his injuries, going over the treatment he's going to have to have; he needs physio-therapy on his right arm, which could take months, maybe even years, before he can use it again properly, not that he can remember even using it properly. He needs more scans, more tests on his head, to see if there is anything more sinister causing his memory loss. So far, they haven't found anything, but they're still looking.
Nothing at all seems real to him; he doesn't remember the town, the people, he doesn't even remember himself, and it all seems like one massive dream going on inside his head. Everything seems fake. Everyone except her.
She's the woman who saved him. Her name's Mary Margaret Blanchard according to Kathryn, and she's a teacher at the local elementary school but she's also a volunteer at the hospital. Her hair is short, cropped, and black like ebony, and he swears he's never seen someone as beautiful as her, not that he could remember if he could. Her eyes, the first thing he saw after she had saved him, are emerald green.
He sees her sometimes. Ocasionally, when Kathryn comes to visit him, he gets bored and glances out the glass windows of his room, and he sees her walking around, putting flowers in each room, talking to patients and caring for them. She rarely comes in to see him, as she never has to, because Kathryn is usually always breathing down his neck, not leaving him alone, and there's no reason for her to come in. He hopes she comes in one day when Kathryn isn't there.
Theif.
She stole his ring, selling it to some trolls for gold.
Savior.
She saved his life, rescuing him from the trolls, the same ones she had sold his ring to. Oh, and she had got the ring back, and she managed to keep all the gold she had gotten from them.
Theif. Savior.
He doesn't know which word suits her best. Snow White had stolen from him, hitting him hard in the chin with a sharp rock, causing a slightly deep wound that was now healing. But she had then helped him get the ring back (only because he had threatened to turn her in if she didn't), and had saved his life, when she could have continued running and left him to die.
He stands on his balcony, looking out into the night. The forest is dark, the hooting of owls echoing from within, and as he stares at it, he can't help but think of her, living in there somewhere, probably up in the highest tree, barely sleeping for the fear of getting caught. She doesn't deserve it, he thinks. She doesn't deserve any of it. She's innocent. She didn't kill her own Father, not her, not Snow. She's got a price on her head for a crime she didn't commit, and while she's careful and amazing at hiding, he's terrified she will get caught. He caught her afterall, and if he could catch her, who's to say that wretched Queen can't?
He can't stop thinking about her. He had hoped the cold air would ease his head, help clear his thoughts of the girl he barely knows, yet it doesn't. The moonlight glistens over the trees, stars twinkling ever so prettily in the sky. He can't forget about her, nothing can stop his worrying. He has to see her again.
He plans to leave at Dawn.
"Try and tighten your fingers," Dr Whale tells him.
He takes a deep breath, his whole mind concentrating on his right hand. He stares at his fingers, trying to move them, trying to tighten them. He tries his hardest, but they simply start to shake, to twitch, and he can't do it, he just can't.
"Okay David, stop, that's enough for today," the Dr says, and his hand falls into his lap.
Kathryn sighs angrily. "That's all? His fingers started to move, we have to continue this!"
"I'm afraid that is not advised; David does not seem in the right state to continue with his therapy today."
"He's my husband, he's strong enough, I know he is!" Kathryn argues, and David winces at the word husband. Her gaze shifts to him, staring at him, and he bites his lip before speaking up.
"I don't think I want to do anymore today," he says quietly, and Kathryn huffs, folding her arms across her chest. "I think I just want to go back to my room."
"I'm going," Kathryn mutters. "I'll see you tomorrow."
She kisses his cheek and he tenses, then she disappears out the door.
Whale escourts him back to his bed. It's the first time Kathryn has gone home before she had too, and he's slightly happy to be on his own for a while. He rests his head back, and closes his eyes, and everything is quiet. The pillow is soft beneath his head, the covers warm, and he reckons he's just about to fall asleep, when his door quietly creaks open, and he hears the soft sound of foot-prints walking round his bed.
He opens his eyes, and sits up, to see Mary Margaret Blanchard place flowers on his bedside table.
He watches her for a moment, and she is still unaware that he is awake as she positions the flowers carefully in the vase.
She turns around, and stops suddenly, her eyes meeting his.
"Hi," he says, staring at her.
She smiles slightly at him. "Hello."
He clears his throat. "I, erm, I haven't seen you so I haven't had a chance to thank you. For saving my life."
A light blush creeps up her cheeks. "It- it was nothing," she says quietly.
"I wouldn't be alive if it hadn't had been for you."
She looks at him, her emerald eyes searching his face. He gulps slightly, taking a deep breath. His fingers on his right hand twitch.
"How is your physio-therapy going? Dr Whale mentioned you were haaving help for your arm" She tells him, sitting in one of the chairs by his bed, which immediatley makes his heart swoon.
"Not too great," he admits sheepishly. "I just.. I just can't do it. I concentrate so hard an-"
"That's the problem," she tells him. She leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. She stares at him for a moment, clearly trying to think up how to get her point into words. Eventually, she speaks.
"You're thinking about it too much, concentrating too hard. Sometimes, if you don't think, and you relax a little more, it happens on it's own; you're putting yourself under too much stress."
"Really?" He asks, he eyes fixed on her.
"Really."
She reaches out, and takes his right hand in her own, her fingers interlacing with his. His heart skips a beat, and he feels her gently squeeze his hand. Her eyes remain on his own, and subconciously, he feels his hand gently squueze hers back.
Her eyes grow bright, and she starts smiling.
"See?" She says, her voice filled with happiness and warmth. "Not thinking about it works."
She pulls her hand away from his, and he suddenly realises that he had moved his hand, that it had worked. She gets up from the chair, and he watches as she walks towards the door. She leans against the door frame.
"I'll see you later, David," she says to him. "I hope you get better soon."
He can't find her. It's impossible. He's searched the woods for days on end, yet he hasn't come across Snow yet. He has no idea where she is, what she is doing, or if she is even alive. She could have died, she could have been dead for days, and he would never be able to see her again, to hear the sarcasm in her soft voice, never having the oppurtunity to hold her in his ar-
"Charming. Didn't think I would see you for a while."
He jumps, his eyes narrowing as he searches for the source of that voice, because he knows that voice, he knows it.
She's sitting in a tree, well, on a branch. She looks exactly as he remembers; long, wild ebony coloured hair, sparkling emerald green eyes, pure white skin, and bright red lips. She's eating an apple, and she stares at him, a single eyebrow raised.
"Snow," he breaths, walking towards her. "You're okay!?"
She rolls her eyes, and jumps down swiftly from the branch she was perched on, landing on two feet, and managing to keep her apple firmly in her hand.
"Of course I'm okay," she says, taking a bite out of her apple. "Why wouldn't I be?"
He stares at her. She's so close to him that he can almost feel her heart beating. His eyes hold hers, and he can't believe it's really her.
"I- the, um, weather is getting slightly colder," he sayd quietly, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.
"No it's not," she replies swiftly. "If anything, it's getting warmer."
Damn. He should have known that.
"Fine," he mutters, folding his arms. "I was just worried. I can't explain why, but I was. I was terrified the Queen had got to you, and I didn't know what else to do, and I needed to see you, so I decided to come and find you, and make sure that she hadn't got you."
Her eyes soften slightly. She drops her apple core to the floor, and steps towards him, until she is standing right in front of him. Catiously, as if slightly afraid, she lays her head against his chest, and stands there, unmoving, her arms remaing at her side.
He bites back a laugh. "What are you doing? Is this supposed to be a hug? Because hugging usually envolves arms."
He feels her smile slightly. "I'm listening to your heart," she informs him.
"Oh," he says, frowning slightly. "Well, listen as much as you want."
"I wouldn't mind having the hug part too," Snow says to him, after a moment.
He grins, and engulfs her in his arms, drawing her closer into him. He feels her sigh against his chest as she lifts up her own arms, and wraps them around him. His head is in her hair, which smells like roses and daisies, and all different kinds of flowers. He could get used to this, he thinks, holding her close to him, feeling her body pressed against his. He could imagine doing it forever, having her close up to him, holding her forever in his arms.
"The woods gets lonely," she sayd quietly, her voice muffled against his chest. "I didn't realise how lonely it got until I met you, until I had company." She pulls away from him, her arms still tightly wound around him, but her head now close to his. "And the funny thing is, I actually miss having you around. I never thought I would."
"You don't have to do this alone, Snow," he whispers. "You don't have to be lonely any more. You have me, and I will fight with you. Always."
She nods, moving her head back into him. "Always is a long time."
"It is," he breaths, his hands stroking her hair.
"But you can't, Charming. You have a life to live, heck, you're getting married."
He doesn't reply, he just continues to stroke her hair, biting his lip.
"I have to do this alone. I have to do everything alone because it's my mess, it's my problem, and everyone has better things to do than help a girl fight the Queen."
This time, it's him who pulls away. "You don't get it Snow," he whispers to her. "You're overthinking this, I don't care about the marriage with Abigail, I care about you, and I will fight with you if you want me to, I promise you."
She's fighting back tears. "You can't promise that Charming."
"I can," he whispers. And he places a gentle kiss to her forehead.
Mary Margaret continues to come and see him. She comes usually on Monday and Thursday nights (Kathryn can't come then because she has clubs on them days), and Saturday mornings. His physio-therapy improves slightly, Mary Margaret's advice of not over-thinking echoing in his head.
When she comes to see him, they usually play games; she sits on the edge of his bed playing scrabble with him, or hangman, or sometimes even poker (which she is surprisingly good at). He can't get enough of her, he honestly can't. Every minute he's with her, his stomach gets butterflies, and his head feels ever so light. He doesn't get them feelings with Kathryn, of course he doesn't. With Kathryn, it doesn't seem right; she expects him to remember, to fall in love with her again, but he can't. Everyone expects something of him. Kathryn, Dr Whale, even he expects something of himself. The only person that fully accepts him for who he is, is Mary Margaret.
"Did we know eachother? Before my accident?"
She raises her head. They are in the middle of a game of scrabble; she's going easy on him, he can tell, yet she's still winning.
"I don't think so, no," she admits, biting her lip. "I just remember visiting you and putting flowers by your bedside when you were in a coma. I don't believe we had ever met before that."
He frowns. He had thought, or maybe hoped, that the had known eachother before, that they had been friends, or something. But they hadn't. Nothing could explain why he felt like the way he did, nothing. He didn't understand why the only person that made sense in his life happened to be someone he had never encounted before his accident.
"It's your turn," she tells him, and he shakes his head, before looking at the board.
He picks up five counters, and lays them off the A she had laid down. "A-L-W-A-Y-S".
Suddenly, before he can even work out how many points he has earned, his gets a searing pain in his head. He squeezes his eyes shut.
"I told you I'd find you."
"David? David, are you okay?! David!"
"No matter what you do, I will always find you."
"David! Wake up David. Focus on my voice, David please."
"If you ever need anything-"
"David, please, open your eyes, focus on the sound of my voice."
"You'll find me." "Always."
"David, David!
"I will always find you."
His eyes shoot open, his breathing heavy. He feels Mary Margaret's cool hands on his face, and slowly, his vision slowly coming back. He realises she's sitting in front of him, her face barely millimeters away from his; she looks worried, her eyes wide, but she sighs a breath of relief when he comes round and he feels her warm breath on his skin.
"What happened?" She whisperes. Her hands are still on either side of his face.
"I don't know," he whispers, because it's the truth. He heard voices, but he couldn't place them to anyone, never hearing them words in his life. "I just.. Got a head ache, and I heard all these voices and.."
He trails off, and looks at her. She's ever so close, and her hands still haven't left his face. Their eyes lock, and he doesn't understand how it happens, but the next thing he knows, his lips are pressing against hers.
At first, she does nothing. She simply lets him kiss her. Then suddenly, he feels the light push of her lips moving against his, her hands moving from his face to go around his neck, and his own arms find themselves around her body. It's bliss. Heaven. And it's over within seconds.
She pulls herself away from him. His eyes are closed, even though he doesn't remember closing them, and he opens them to see her standing up. She smooths down her blouse, avoiding his eye, and picks up the scrabble set and puts it away.
"Mary Margaret," he starts, but she cuts him off.
"You should talk to Dr Whale about what happened with your head and those voices. It might be a side effect of some of your medication," she sayd quietly, her eyes still avoiding him.
"Mary Margaret I-"
"Or it might be something worse, so you better get yourself checked out."
"Mary Margaret please-"
"I have to go now," she walks towards the door, and pauses at the doorframe. Her head stares at the floor, as she whispers, "Goodbye David."
The next day he finds out she resigned from being a volunteer at the hospital, and he knows it's his fault.
"You came," he breaths. He can't help but be shocked to see Snow standing a few feet away from him, leaning against a tree. She raises an eyebrow in response.
"Of course I came," she says, staying where she is. He had expected her to come towards him. "You made me promise."
"That I did," he replies, walking towards her when she still makes no move to come towards her. "How have you been?"
"In the last week? Fine. I haven't died, that's something," she answers, and he rolls his eyes. He ignores the feeling of his heart fluttering.
"Stupid answer," he says sighing, standing next to her.
"Stupid question."
He grins at her, and he watches as she slowly grins too, and then he's laughing, and it's weird because they have serious topics to discuss, and then she's laughing, and the sound of her laughter is beautiful. He bows his head, and her head falls into his shoulder. He wraps a single arm around her, and she falls into his embrace, and they're still laughing and he isn't sure why anymore.
She pulls her head away from him, and stares up at him, her laughter coming to an end. She smiles prettily at him, and he smiles in return. He pulls away, sighing heavily, knowing they have to talk about it soon.
"So," Snow says, a small giggle still lodged in the back of her throat. "The Queen. Me. I still think I have to do this alone Charming." She grows all serious of a sudden.
"I can't let you do that," he whispers quietly. "We're in this together."
"Together?" She says, raising an eyebrow. "You're engaged Charming, we can't do this together because you're getting married an-"
"I don't have to be," he says, barely audible.
"What?"
He swallows thickly. "I don't have to get married. I can leave, and help you an-"
"You're not ruining your life; not for me," she says to him, shaking her head. "You can't risk your life for a girl on the run, you can't risk your life for someone who you feel sorry for, because you just feel sorry for me, Charming." Her tone is impassive, and his eyes widen at her words.
"I'm not doing this because I feel sorry for you," he mutters, grabbing her by the shoulders. "I'm doing this because I care about you."
"Charming, I really don't thi-"
She's cut off as he kisses her. She squeaks, a small noise coming from the back of her throat. He kisses her hard, pushing her back into a tree, and soon, she sighs and gives into the kiss. His hands slid down her body, holding her at her waist, while her hands curl around his neck, holding him to her. It's the first time he's ever kissed anyone, and he doesn't know if he's doing it right, but Snow doesn't seem to be protesting so he gathers she's enjoying it. Eventually, the kiss becomes slower, and they break apart, both breathing heavily.
"And that," she whispers, her breaths unsteady, "Is why I have to do this alone."
"What?" He whispers, taking his hand under her chin, and looking directly into her eyes.
"You're getting married Charming," she tells him. "And you can't just decide to run away with me and help because you think you.. because you think you love me."
I do love you.
"Snow, I-"
"I'll be alright, I promise you," she says, a single tear rolling down her cheek. "You are going to be a great Husband Charming, and I can't deny you of that."
She lays her head on his chest, just like she did the week before. "Your heart sounds comforting," she whispers. "And I need some comfort to take with me."
He doesn't stop her as she walks away. He feels too numb.
Kathryn brings him home two weeks later. He hasn't seen Mary Margaret since he kissed her. He worries about her, he misses her, he wants her back in his life again.
He remembers everything a few days after he had returned home. He had been sleeping in the spare room, not comfortable with sleeping in the same bed as someone he barely knew, or barely remembered.
He sees a picture in the house, and everything suddenly clicks. He remembers meeting her, falling in love with her, marrying her, holding her, but nothing makes sense. He has his memories back, but he doesn't feel like they belong to him. He feels like they belong to someone else, some-other David Nolan, because there is no way he still loves that women, there is no way he still loves Kathryn.
He loves someone else. He knows that.
Kathryn goes to work one Saturday morning, and being left alone, he decides to go for a walk around town. The cool breeze of the outside world is unusual against his skin, but he likes it, loves the feel of it.
He wanders around, not really knowing what he is looking for, until he sees her on the opposite side of the street. Mary Margaret.
He crosses the road without a second thought.
"Mary Margaret," he says, as he reaches her.
She stops suddenly, and raises her head. Her eyes meet his.
"David," she says softly. "I didn't know you were out of hospital."
"I came home two weeks after you resigned," he replies, taking a breath.
She bites her lip. "Well, work was getting busy an-"
"And you were freaked out because I kissed you."
She winces.
"I'm not stupid," he says quietly. "I know that's why you left. What I'm trying to work out is whether it was because you felt sorry for me, and thought it would be easier if you left, if you had some secret boyfriend that I don't know about who made you resign after another man had kissed you, or whether it was because when I kissed you, you felt a spark, and that scared you."
She doesn't say anything.
"Honestly, I think it's the third option."
"David-"
"I love you."
The words tumble out of his mouth, and he doesn't even register the fact that he has said them until he sees the tears in her eyes.
"I love you, and I reckon I have since I opened my eyes and saw you in front of me. I love you, and ever since I have woken up, you're the only person who seems real to me. I love you, and I will never forget that while everyone was trying to make me into something I'm not, while everyone expected something from me, you didn't; you accepted who I am. I love you, and I haven't stopped loving you just because you've been avoiding me. In fact, it's only made my love for you grow stronger."
"You don't love me David," she whispers. "You can't. You're married, and the only reason you think you love me is because you can't remember your feelings for Kathryn."
"I remember," he replies, and her eyes widen. "I remember everything. And that doesn't change how I feel."
"It doesn't change the fact that you're married."
"It does change the fact that I want a divorce."
She tilts her head to one side. "You left her?"
He swallows. "Not yet."
She sighs "David, you were lonely, this isn't love-"
"It is," he interrupts. "You feel it too. And I promise, I'm going to leave her. I want you."
He walks away this time, and when he looks over his shoulder, she's still standing in the same place, having not moved an inch.
He packs quickly. If she's coming, if she got his letter, and she wants him just as much as he wants her, they will have to leave quickly. He's packed food, clothes, blankets, weapons, more food, and everything he thinks they will need.
If she comes.
He hopes she does. He doesn't want to marry Abigail, he wants to be with her. Snow. He needs her. It's that simple.
Someone clears their throat from behind him, and he jumps, twisting around. She's standing there, her pale skin and red lips and black hair unmistakable.
"Snow," he whispers, not moving.
"Charming," she replies, before she runs to him, and jumps on him, wrapping her arms tight around him, nestling into him.
"I didn't think you would come," he whispers, his head burried into her hair.
"Neither did I, but who knew you could be so charming," she whispers.
"I haven't seen you in a month, have you been alright?"
"I'm here, aren't I?"
"Yes," he breaths, setting her down. "And I couldn't be happier."
She stares at him, and he stares back at her, and then he grabs her, pouring all his love into a passionate kiss. She groans, kissing him back just as hard, pulling him into her, their bodies squashing together.
"I tried to forget about you," he murmurs against her. "When you said you wanted to do it alone, I tried to give you that. But I couldn't."
"I'm glad you couldn't," she whispers, kissing him again. "Because that means you really want me, and I have to say, I really want you too."
"We need to go," he says, pulling away from her, smiling at her growl of protest. "Now."
"Okay," she says noding, grabbing a bag from the side. "Are you sure you want to do this? Once we go-"
"We're gone forever, I know," he replies, kissing her quickly. "And of course I'm sure, I love you, now lets go!"
She smiles at him fondly. "I love you too, Charming."
Kathryn cries when he leaves her. He knew she would. He packs his bags, and wanders out onto the street, wondering where on earth to go. He stands outside, and looks around him; it's night, it's cold, and he needs somewhere to stay.
He asks a passerby for directions to Mary Margaret's building, and he's directed up to an apartment building, to the top floor.
He knocks on her door, and it swings open, revealing a young blonde woman. He doesn't need to ask her name. He knows that she's Emma. He doesn't know how he knows that, but he does.
"David! Can I, um, help you?" She asks, clearly surprised; her eyes immediately fall to his suitcase.
"Is Mary Margaret here?" He questions quietly.
"Erm, yeah," Emma replies, slightly uncomfortable. "One minute."
She closes the door, and he waits, wondering if Mary Margaret is going to come, or if he is going to be standing out there all night, because there is no way he is leaving.
Eventually, the door opens, and Mary Margaret stands there, wearing a pair of pyjama bottoms and a large shirt.
"David," she says.
"I left her," he says simply. "I left her, and I love you."
She sighs, closing her eyes and biting her lip. When she opens them again, her eyes are filled with tears. "David, you just left her, and you're still confused and I-"
"I'm not confused!" He shouts, and she flinches. "I know how I feel, and I know you feel it too, and I don't know why you keep denying it, but you do, and it's driving me insane. I love you. And I know, I know you love me too, you wouldn't be crying if you didn't." His voice grows soft. "You're afraid, and that's okay because love is scary. But it's not weakness. Love.. it's strength."
He reaches out, and wipes away a tear from her cheek.
"Take a chance on me, please. I love you."
Tears are forming in his eyes now, but he refuses to look away from her.
"David, I'm sorry," she says finally.
He drops his head. It's painful, his heart feeling as if it is being crushed.
"That I took so long to admit it."
He freezes, his breath catching, as he raises his head and stares at her.
"David, I love you."
She kisses him this time. It's soft and sweet and warm, and her lips taste of salt and his lips are chapped from the cold, but neither of them care. He wraps his arms around his small body, and she curls into him.
And they may not remember who they truly are, atleast not yet, but they did find their way back to eachother.