If you had asked me a week ago if I could look a man in the eye and kill him, I'd have told you that you were fucking insane. So a small part of my mind couldn't help the hysterical cries for me to stop this insanity before I had passed the point of no return, in true Phanotm-esque fashion. But the larger part of me, gripped by a darkness I had always kept so tightly bottled up, like a caged panther that prowled in the recesses of my mind, demanded blood. Its cage, shattered, broken, and now obsolete, was all that was left of the will to restrain it. And I reveled in the claws it gave me. So it was with little reservation that I brought the point of my dagger back, the angle perfect to slip through the fourth and fifth ribs, and looked the man before me straight in the eye, and with a smile that felt like I was showing fangs, I whispered, "A captain must go down with his ship." And shoved the point of my blade up to the hilt into his chest.

An Undetermined Point In the Recent Past (Earlier)

"Welcome to Storybrooke," I intoned, reading of the green highway sign as we passed it. I snorted at the name, while in the passenger seat of our old sedan, my best friend Sarah murmured quietly, "Seriously?"

I scoffed lightly, shooting her a look, "Hey, maybe we can meet Peter Pan or some shit like that!" gesturing grandly with the hand that was dangling out the window. She turned, giving me a wan smile. As she did, I couldn't help but notice the shadows under her eyes. She could have passed it off as smudged eye liner from sleeping in the car all night, but I knew her facial tells better than anyone. I could see that her smile didn't quite reach her eyes, and her lips dragged in the corners. Her eyelids drooped ever so slightly. Not enough for everyone to see, but enough for me. She looks tired. No, she looks old. Old and weary.

I turned back to the road after studying her face for a moment, a frown creeping its way between my brows, rubbing the steering wheel absent-mindedly with my thumb. She had been getting worse since we had started this little adventure three days ago. I couldn't help but wonder if she was sick. But if she was content to keep silent, then so would I, at least for now. If she continued to get worse, I would do something. But since I had already decided on non-action, I put the matter from my mind. Fuck my back hurts.

I glanced at the display, taking in the speed, state of the gas tank and the temperature of my engine, which had been giving me problems over the last few weeks. The last thing I wanted was for my car to die because it over heated. But one quick glance told me that the much more likely event was us running out of gas. Shit. Speaking of the fucking devil.

"Fuck, I hope the town is close, we're running on fumes," I muttered. Sarah sat up a little straighter, shooting me a glance.

"Kit, look."

My eyes snapped back up to the road at her words, and sure enough, I could see the first buildings sliding into view, and miracle of miracles, a gas station. But as we pulled further into town, something started to make the skin between my shoulder blades itch. Not quite hair standing on end and not quite a shiver of foreboding, but definitely not the most comfortable of feelings. There is something majorly fucked up here. My spidey senses are freaking the fuck out. What the fuck is it with small towns and the shadiest of shit going down?

But we needed gas, so against the little voice in the back of my head that sounded alarming like a middle aged father rolling his eyes at his child's antics telling me with a very poorly chosen pun that this was a bad idea, I continued to drive along what must have been main street until we arrived at the gas station, and then pulled in.

Is this place even open? The two fuel pumps looked old and rusted, and the little store didn't look like it had had a customer in ages. But as soon as I threw the car in park, wincing at the slight squeaking of the belt slipping for a moment, I watched an attendant come out of the station and trot towards us. The itch from before spread across my shoulders, and I rolled my shoulders a bit in the seat to try and alleviate the sensation as I turned the engine off.

I eyed the attendant for a moment. He looked harmless and normal enough, so after exchanging a glance with Sarah that told me she could feel it, whatever it was, too, I sighed and dug around the center consul for my wallet, then opened the door and got out.

The man was now close enough that I could see nervous little eyes and as he stood there for a moment longer without speaking, I was easily able to read his nervous body language as well. Arms crossed tightly on his chest, angling his shoulders down and away from me, keeping his weight on the balls of his feet, only brief moments of eye contact before he surveyed our surroundings. Everything screamed extreme discomfort and what could be called panic. What the fuck is he expecting? That I'm going to grow wings and fangs and bite him? I couldn't help the eyebrow that jumped up my face in the few moments it took to process this.

The silence lengthened, and he showed no inclination to break it, so I cleared my throat, readjusting my glasses on my face out of habit. He just about jumped out of his skin and his eyes widened as they darted back to mine, but I elected to ignore his reaction in favor of saying politely, "Hi I need to fill up. Can I put sixty on this pump here?"

I couldn't tell if he was shocked that I spoke, or that I had actually asked to get gas, but regardless of why, he immediately turned into a stuttering mess. "We .. can-can't...we umm... it's not... I shouldn't really..." His voice faded off as he continued to stammer

What the fuck is he on about? I never thought that I'd have cause to address a grown person like a child, but I couldn't help the school teacher tone I adopted, explaining myself sweetly, as if to a confused child.

"My friend and I are on our way to the Canadian border. We'd like to get back on the road as soon as possible. But we can't do that if we run out of gas a mile out of town. So if you'll just give us the gas, we can be on our way and you won't have to worry about it anymore."

Woah tone it down there some champ. That was more condescending that Lady Catherine to Mr. Collins. The thought, random as it was, had me forcing my face into impassivity so that I didn't smile at my own mental commentary. It wouldn't do to add "murder smile number three" as Sarah had affectionately coined it, spooking the guy more that I already had.

"Ah yes, I suppose, in that case, yes of course," he muttered, obviously having a heated internal debate with himself, before he sort of jerkily dipped his head, reminding me of a pigeon or something. Then he turned and scurried off back into the gas station building. I kind of just stared after him. What in the fucking name of good fucking God was all that about? Deciding that it was best to just let it go, I shook my head and opened the car door, sitting back in the driver's seat. God my back.

I paused for a moment before turning to Sarah, "Did anything about that seem... off to you?"

She looked at me, "You mean the guy who acted like you'd just told him you have a dead body in the trunk or the fact that you sounded like my old third grade teacher?" I scoffed, feigning offence.

"I'll have you know, I only teach fourth grade, thank you very much."

She snickered, then the smiled faded away as she shook her head, looking out the windshield back toward the gas station. "Yeah on the scale of weird things that was up there with that video you showed me of a guy squeezing a huge pimple on his back."

"Oh come on that was cool though!"

"You have a sincerely fucked up sense of cool."

I shrugged, conceding the point, "Well yes, but you knew that already."

She laughed, shaking her head at me, and I couldn't help the smile that pulled at my lips as she replied, "Yes. Yes I did."

Our humor was cut short, however, when we both spotted the gas attendant scurrying, there was no other word, out back to us. I heaved myself back up out of the driver's seat to meet him. His body language was unchanged, but he actually spoke first.

"Well umm, if you'll just pay, I'll just set it up for you."

I blinked. Wow, an actual service station. What sort of back to the future shit is this? But I promptly unzipped my wallet and pulled out a couple of folded twenties, offering them out to him. He eyed my hand like I was offering drugs, but after a few moments, reached out with a shaky hand and literally snatched the bills from my hand. My eyebrow again reacted without my consent, and I had to bite back several choice remarks about customer service and not having cooties. But before I could elected a remark of proper sassiness, he had scuttled of to the pump, and I just closed my eyes and shook my head to regain some of my composure, lost in the swirling sarcasm that was just burning to be unleashed on the poor fellow. With a quick sigh at the sky, I returned to my seat on the driver's side.

As soon as I did, Sarah started applauding, very slowly. I looked over at her with my eyebrow raised in question. She reached over and clapped me on the shoulder, with a serious look on her face.

"I'd just like to congratulate you on not shredding that guy to pieces. I could see the amount of effort you put forth to restrain yourself and I just want you to know how proud I am that you have finally reached this step in your life."

I narrowed my eyes at her, while fighting a smile, "Fuck you."

She gave me a wolfish grin, "If you insist." I rolled my eyes at her.

After that we fell into silence. I watched the gas attendant shuffling around from the corner of my eye while surveying the little town around us. The silence, though not awkward, felt charged, and by the time our tank was full, I was about ready to just let the guy keep the change and drive off. But as a college student, I scoffed at the stupidity of that thought.

Finally, I heard him close the gas cap and let out a sign of relief that was echoed by Sarah. "Fuckin finally." I turned to get up and as I did, to my consternation, I watched a police car drive up and pull into the station behind the car. I froze for a moment before turning to look at the gas station attendant, who guiltily met my eye and then looked away. You fucking sneaky little fucking git.

I bent back down, dipping my head back in the car, "Guido, the attendant called the police, you might want to get out."

She stared at me, "You have got to be fucking joking..."

I shook my head, "I'm not. Come on, get out."

She nodded and quickly unbuckled her seat belt and opened her door. I straightened in time to see the cop car's door open and a woman step out. I took in her appearance and once again felt my face furrow. The fuck is she wearing? That's no cop uniform. Heeled boots, jeans, a turtleneck and a red leather jacket all settle quite fashionably on the blonde's form. The only indication of anything official was the badge tucked into her belt. But uniform or not, she's driving a cop car, so time to turn on the charm.

However, I again couldn't help the eyebrow as I shared yet another look with Sarah. She looked as confused as I did, but she didn't see too worried. Unlike me, whose whole skin was just itching with how wrong this was feeling. But as the sheriff walked up, I could see a hardness in her face that instantly had me schooling my body into the picture of relaxed attention. I knew just how important body language was, so I stood balanced, upright, with my shoulders back. I kept my hands behind me, leaving my chest open. I knew that, while putting my hands behind me gave a sort of social cue that I might be trying to conceal something, the balanced and unguarded bearing of standing at attention gave off a trustworthy air that superseded all else. Coupled with the direct eye contact I maintained indicated to her, without a word, that I had nothing to hide.

Normally, I'd have thought that such efforts were lost on people, but as she closed the last of the distance between us, I could see on her face that she was reading my body language. This was a student of the nonverbal. Briefly, I wondered what her past was like, but then she spoke and my attention was drawn back to the matter at hand.

"Welcome to Storybrooke," she offered. I could hear her clipped, overly polite tone covering suspicion and curiosity. I wondered what the station attendant had said over the phone that had cause her to come so quickly.

I opened my mouth to respond, when Sarah jumped in to respond for me, "Thank you Madame Sherriff. It really is a beautiful little town, from what we've seen of it."

I managed to keep my that is not what I was going to say glare to only a second or so, to which Sarah did not even bother reacting. I smoothed out my features, turning back to the sheriff as she responded, "Thank you, then, on behalf of Storybrooke. My name is Emma Swan, and I'm the sheriff."

Sarah moved around to the back of the car, offering her hand to Sherriff Swan. I noticed that the woman shifted into a guarded stance for a fraction of a moment before relaxing and offering her own to Sarah. "Pleasure to meet you Sherriff Swan. My name is Sarah, and this is my best friend, Catherine."

The sheriff accepted Sarah's handshake, then turned to me. My good manners kicked in and I brought my hand out from behind my back, giving her a firm handshake as I kept eye contact, "Sherriff." Her handshake was just as firm, and I had an instant respect for her because of that. I could see her eyeing me ame way I was her. It's like a testosterone charged scene between the boyfriend and the father. Does that make me the father or the boyfriend?

Then we both released hands and the moment passed. She stepped back and tucked her hands into her back pockets, while my hand dropped back to rejoin its partner behind my back. The sheriff slouched a bit and I could tell she was trying to force a casualness to our interaction.

"So what brings you two to Storybrooke?" she inquired.

Sarah quickly answered again, "We are road tripping up to the Canadian border. Kit goes to school in DC and we thought that this would be a fun break from the city. So we set out a few days ago, and we are just following the coast as closely as we can, and the road cut right through here. So we just decided to grab gas here, maybe a bite to eat, and then we will be continuing out adventure northward."

I shot Sarah another annoyed look. The sheriff didn't need to know everything, she could have just said we were passing through.

"Sounds fun," murmured Swan. "Why did you decide to road trip?"

"Kit.. I mean Catherine.. needed to-" Sarah stopped, suddenly, swallowing and shooting me an apologetic glance while I felt back straighten as irritation flashed through me. At least she realized that she should keep her fucking mouth shut before it was too late.

The sheriff immediately turned her gaze on me, an eye brow raised in a suspicious question. I felt my throat tighten, and I cleared it quickly before finishing Sarah's sentence, "I just needed to get away. Stress and all that." I gave a one-sided smile and a shrug, hands still behind my back. The sheriff's eyes narrowed slightly, but I held her gaze with a mild one of my own. After a moment longer, she nodded, and stepped back.

"If you are looking for a bite to eat, I'd hit up Granny's Diner. It's just up the road. Best food in town," she said. "Well, again, welcome to Storybrooke, and it was nice to meet you." Then she turned and headed back to her cruiser, got in, and pulled out of the station, heading back up the road.

Sarah and I both stood frozen, watching the cop car disappear up the road. Once the tail lights had vanished behind a building, I turned, slowly to Sarah. She was already looking at me, and as we made eye contact, the only thing I could think to say was , "What the fuck?"

She shrugged, looking just as stupefied as myself. I don't even- what the fucking hell was that? I was brought back from the realm of fucking bewilderment by the sound of the attendant's scuttling feet, who I hadn't realized had slipped away when the sheriff had first pulled up.

I turned to face him, dropping my hands back to my sides and relaxing my posture as much as possible to make myself seem nonthreatening, and he was bobbing on his toes, a shaky hand holding what must have been my change, while he seemed to mutter to himself. "Oh she's.. gone.. didn't stay.. she should... but maybe not... they are probably not... shouldn't worry." He continued along in the same vein for a few moments longer.

While I appreciate having a healthy discussion with all the voices in one's head, we need to get going. I cleared my throat, and he jumped again. "Thanks very much for your help. Is that my change?"

He swallowed and glanced down to his hand on surprise, like he didn't realize what he was holding. "Oh ye-ea-eah, h-here," he stuttered, tentatively holding out the wad of bills. I stretched my hand out, pinching the bills, and in the process, my fingers brushed his. He actually yelped and jerked his hand back, before gasping a squeaked "Good day," and just short of dashing back into the station building. That actually just happened. He actually flinched when I touched him. What sort of bad fanfiction shit is this?

"Well, that was...eventful," came Sarah's drawling remark. I continued to look at the station door, still in shock, for a moment longer, before I turned back to her. She had made her way back to the passenger side and was holding the door open, looking at me with a look of just sheer amusement. "You should see your face," she commented. Then without further ado dropped into her seat in the car, closing the door behind her.

There is something really wrong with this town. Then I opened my side, dropped into my seat and shut the door behind me. I took a deep breath and then went to turn star the engine. It turned over, but didn't start.

"No nono no, what are you doing?" I growled at my car, turning the key back, then trying to start it again. It turned over again, but still didn't start.

Sarah leaned forward, "What's wrong?"

I shook my head with another growl, "Fuck if I know. We have gas, the engine isn't overheated, and the starter is turning over, so we have battery power. Why do you have to do this now? Couldn't you have waited to break down until after we were out of the creepy little murderous village? Huh?" I fumed at my car, before reaching down Ugh my back to violently pull the hood release. Through the windshield, I saw the hood pop open, accompanied by a click, and I released the lever.

With a grumbled "Stupid car" I got out and walked around the door to the hood, digging my nails into the small opening and yanking. The hood stuck for just a second before giving, and then I pulled it open all the way, propping it open on its metal stand. "Ok talk to me baby, what's wrong?" I whispered. Yeah like the car is actually going to fucking talk back to you. Oh you know darling it's just that pesky little timing belt could you give it a little wiggle for me?

I shook my head at my own musings as my eyes surveyed the engine. Going through the normal diagnostics, I checked the level of the anti-freeze/coolant and the oil and both were fine. Then, on a whim, I checked the timing belt. It pulled right off and dangled from my pinched fingers, the frayed ends showing just where it had worn through. I am psychic. I can literally read the mind of my car. I am a phenomenon. I mused for a moment before Fuck me, where the fuck are we going to get a timing belt? I don't have a spare one of these. Shitshitshit.

I sighed and stood up, pulling the propping rod out and then letting the hood fall shut with a slam. I could see Sarah raise her hands in a silent So what's the matter? In response, I just held up the torn timing belt. Her mouth fell open, and through the window I could read the string of explicatives that flowed out of it. I nodded at the sentiment with a humorless smile as I walked back around to sit back down in the car.

I offered her the belt, which she took and ran through her fingers, brushing the two worn edges. "So we're going to have to find a place that sells timing belts, and hope that they have one that fits the car. So we might as well get a bite to eat now and then asked someone if there is an auto parts shop around here that is open on a Sunday." She nodded. "We'll also need to move the car out of the station spot, over to a regular parking, and hope they don't mind."

"Ok, although, I think even if they did mind, that station manager would rather just ignore it than have to talk to you again," she pointed out. I snorted at that.

"Ain't that the truth. K come on, you come over here to push and steer and I'll push from the back," I told her with a light slap on the arm. I shifted the car into neutral, then got up and headed to the back, while Sarah circled around the front. Once we were both in position, her with a hand on the door frame and a hand on the wheel and with me bent over the bumper, I gave her a nod and we both began pushing.

The car didn't budge for just a moment. Ahh move you fucking piece of shit, come on! And then it started to roll forward. With Sarah guiding and me shoving on the back, we managed to get it moved in relatively short time. I braced my hands on my lower back and arched, trying to stretch out the pain there. Once we had moved it forward into a parking spot, Sarah bent over and reached in to the car, put it in park, turned the key to roll up the windows, then removed it and straightened, bringing both of our purses with her.

She looked me, offering my bag out to me, "Good?"

She looked at me, blood dripping down her brow from a cut just above her hairline, her face hollowed out, emaciated, like she was starved or ill to the brink of death. But she managed a smile for me, even though half her face didn't move, and in spite of the pure chaos around us. She always managed to have a smile for me, no matter how bad it got. She offered her bloodied and shaking hand out to me. "Good?" The smile stayed in place even as a curve of shining silver snaked over her shoulder from behind and ripped open her neck.

I blinked. What in the fuck? I reached out for my bag, looking hard at Sarah, trying to figure out where the image in my head had come from. And trying to shake off the gut clenching shiver that had me suddenly trying to memorize her face.

I grabbed the proffered purse and turned away."Yeah , good."