Title: Send It Up
Summary: "I know the hardened, world-weary cop with the bottle in his bottom desk drawer is a stereotype," Graham told Emma as he slid the bottle out of her reach as well, "but it's also a dangerous habit to start. There are better, healthier ways to wind down after a hard day."
Spoilers: Post-ep for 1x05, "That Still Small Voice."
Characters: Emma and Graham.
Rating/Warning: T, for language and one suggestive little joke.
Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time and its characters were created by Eddie Kitsis and Adam Horowitz and are owned by ABC. Their toys got put in my cubby by mistake but I'll return them in the condition I found them.
Author's Note: For tjmack, who "*wink wink nudge nudge*"d this story into existence. Please forgive my mixing of musical metaphors, because the title comes from the song of the same name by Vertical Horizon, but the inspiration for the story and lyrics that serve as the header come from the Wayback Machine (in this case, "Up On the Roof" by The Drifters). Feedback is love (and, since this is the first time I've written Graham, much appreciated)! Enjoy. :)
At night, the stars put on a show for free,
And darling, you can share it all with me.
Mine cave-ins sucked. They sucked out loud.
That refrain – along with countless others with more colorful language – ran through Emma Swan's head as she sat at her new desk in Storybrooke's sheriff's station. All manner of forms and incident reports covered the desk, paperwork she didn't really understand but was trying to fill out anyway.
Doing the paperwork tonight was not at all necessary, of course. Graham had actually told her that she could – and should – go home and set some rest. They could fill out the paperwork together in the morning, he'd said.
Rest, however, was the furthest thing from Emma's mind. She was too antsy, too keyed up after the events of the day to even consider going back to Mary Margaret's little apartment.
Emotions she tried so damn hard to keep tamped down swirled through her head. The abject terror at the thought of losing Henry. The intense relief that she hadn't. The fury when Regina pushed her aside after she'd saved the kid's life. The indescribable explosion of relief and warmth and comfort she felt when Henry wrapped his trembling arms around her and squeezed tightly.
It was all too much … far too much. So here she sat, filling out paperwork and having the occasional sip of something quite a bit stronger than her usual choice of hot chocolate with cinnamon.
When Emma went to raid the file cabinets in Graham's office for the forms she needed, she had found a bottle of whiskey sitting on top of one of the cabinets. After a brief moment of consideration, she decided to help herself to it. Her new boss wouldn't mind.
At least, she hoped he wouldn't mind. If he did, she could always replace it for him. More than likely with some kind of snarky comment because snarky comments seemed to just roll right off her tongue when Graham was around. Thank goodness he was good-natured.
After pouring a generous splash of the alcohol into her coffee mug, Emma capped the bottle and tried to focus on her paperwork. She was probably filling everything out incorrectly and would just have to redo it all in the morning, but whatever. The tedium was keeping her mind occupied.
The soft ding of her text message notification seemed deafening in the silence of the station. Without a glance at the display, she somehow knew it was her roommate checking up on her. It amused her far more than it really should have that Mary Margaret always typed her text messages with proper grammar. "I'm a teacher," she'd said when Emma mentioned it. "I cannot bring myself to write the letter 'u' instead of the word 'you.'"
The just-arrived text was indeed from Mary Margaret, and sure enough, it was comprised of two full, grammatically correct sentences: Are you still at the station? I can wait up for you if you want.
The corners of Emma's mouth lifted into a tiny smile. She typed a quick message back, telling her roommate that she was still at the station and probably would be a while longer so she didn't have to wait up. Then she set her phone back down and once again tried to focus on her paperwork.
"Tried to," clearly, being the operative term. The typewritten words on the paper were starting to swim in front of her eyes, which meant she was either more tired than she realized or she'd consumed more of Graham's whiskey than she intended. She set her pen down and ran her hand over her face. After a moment, the words settled on the paper but her concentration was totally shot.
Oh, well. Now she could just concentrate on drinking.
She leaned back in the chair and put her feet up on the desk, absently twirling the mug around with her fingers as she allowed her mind to wander.
She could have lost him today. This little boy she hadn't wanted to get to know but who, from the day he was born, had never truly left her thoughts. The little boy who had burrowed himself deep in her heart. This little boy who had looked at her in a way that no one else ever had, like she was special. This little boy who had started to mean more to her than anyone else in all of her twenty-eight years on this planet. And she could have lost him today.
Her hand closed around the mug but before she could bring it to her lips, a teasing, pleasantly-accented voice said, "I should have guessed you'd still be here."
Startled, Emma pulled her feet off the desk and swiveled her chair around to face her new boss. The kind smile on his face faded just a tad when he spotted the bottle on her desk. "And I see you've found my stash."
She tightened her hands around the mug, gripping it as if it were filled with hot coffee and she was trying to warm chilled fingers. "It wasn't hidden particularly well," she said, nodding towards his office. "Could have been legally taken in a search. I believe it's called the plain view doctrine."
"I'm not used to sharing the station," Graham admitted. He crossed the room and sat down at the desk next to hers. "Let me guess: this is the first time a first day at a new job has led you to borrow your boss's whiskey."
"Now I know why Regina hired you to be sheriff," Emma said, tipping the mug slightly in Graham's direction. Then she brought the cup to her lips and swallowed a large gulp of the amber liquid inside.
Graham winced in sympathy when Emma wrinkled her nose at the burn of the alcohol. "I promise our days won't always be like this. To be honest with you, they're usually quite boring."
"I don't mind busy days," Emma insisted. She wouldn't have chosen to spend her life tracking down bail jumpers if she wanted a job that came with peace and security. "I don't mind running a rescue operation. Hell, that shit is exciting! Gets the adrenaline going and the rush you get when it's all over is … well, let's just say it's a natural high. I'd just rather my kid not be the one in need of rescuing."
The sheriff watched her for a long moment, his eyes narrowing as she took another large gulp of the alcohol in her coffee mug. Emma could almost see the wheels in his head turning as if he wanted to say something but wasn't sure whether or not he should. He must have decided against it because he wordlessly slipped the almost empty cup from her hand.
"Hey!" she cried, reaching for the mug.
"I know the hardened, world-weary cop with the bottle in his bottom desk drawer is a stereotype," he told her as he slid the bottle out of her reach as well, "but it's also a dangerous habit to start. There are better, healthier ways to wind down after a hard day."
All right, just who the hell did Graham think he was, cutting her off like that? Sure, it was his alcohol, but that didn't seem to be the issue. He wasn't protesting the fact that she'd stolen his whiskey; he was protesting the reason she stole it in the first place.
Well, he was wrong. She hadn't wanted to simply relax. She'd wanted to forget. To quiet her zooming thoughts and to return the complicated emotions that the cave-in had brought up back to the little box buried somewhere deep in her mind where they belonged.
"I can see that you're incredulous," Graham continued, a smirk on his lips as he pushed himself to his feet. Emma's eyes remained trained on him in an annoyed glare as he set the bottle back in its place on the top of the file cabinet and returned to the bullpen. "If you want, I can show you one of my favorite ways to relax." He held his hand out to her.
Her eyebrows shot to the ceiling. "Um, I didn't make it all the way through that handbook you wanted me to read before all hell broke loose, but I think it mentioned something about fraternization not being allowed."
Graham laughed. Not a little chuckle but a nice, throaty laugh. "You've consumed more of my whiskey than I thought if you think that's what I'm suggesting. I promise you, Deputy Swan, nothing untoward will happen if you take my hand."
Emma narrowed her eyes at him, trying to figure out what his deal was. What difference did it make to him how she unwound? After the day she'd had, she figured that a little alcohol was damn well allowed. Maybe he just didn't want her to drink all of his whiskey.
Still, she was curious. Bottle in the office aside, how did the sheriff of Storybrooke handle dealing with Regina all damn day long?
Eh, what the hell? If whatever Graham wanted to show her didn't work, she could always swing by Granny's afterward. She took his hand, allowing him to pull her out of the chair, but shook her hand free the second she was on her feet.
"I knew you couldn't resist," Graham teased. "And just so you know, I didn't write that handbook."
Emma rolled her eyes. Of course he didn't. Regina probably wrote it, just to be … Regina. "I can still change my mind, you know, so you want to lead the way already?"
She pretended not to notice the smirk on Graham's lips as he led her out of the station and over to his car. When he went to open the door for her, she arched an eyebrow at him. "Where are we going that we need the cruiser?"
"It's a surprise, and if you hadn't broken into my stash, I might have been able to let you drive. Alas, here we are."
Emma huffed as she pushed his hand away from the door handle and opened the door herself. Again, she pretended not to notice the grin lighting Graham's face as she climbed into the car. Once she settled in the passenger seat, Graham closed the door for her and walked around the front of the cruiser. As soon as he climbed in behind the wheel and buckled up, he drove them off into the night.
He was heading towards the forest. Emma tried to keep track of the turns so she knew where they were but she was suddenly having trouble concentrating. Ordinarily she would be pleased that the whiskey had started to work its magic but tonight she regretted it. She didn't like not knowing exactly where she was.
After a few minutes, Graham turned off the paved road and onto a dirt access road that led deep into the woods. It wasn't until Emma could see nothing around them but trees that Graham pulled over to what passed for the shoulder, eased the car to a stop, and shifted into park. "Seriously?" Emma grumbled when Graham pulled the key from the ignition. "Graham, where are you taking me?"
"The woods," he answered simply as he got out of the car.
As if she couldn't figure that one out for herself. "Yeah, I get that. Why are you taking me to the woods?"
"The woods are peaceful," he said as he stepped onto a beaten path between the trees. He walked forward, and since he had the flashlight, Emma had no choice but to follow him. "It's calming. Nothing out here but you, the birds and animals, and your thoughts."
"What about when your thoughts are the problem?" Emma grumbled under her breath.
"We're getting to that. Just bear with me a couple more minutes."
Huh. She hadn't realized she'd said that loud enough for him to hear her.
Graham expertly led her down a path that wound through trees and brush, the flashlight in his hand a mere formality. As they walked, Emma felt the tension in her shoulders lifting. Maybe there was something to Graham's whole the woods are calming thing after all.
Or maybe not. The path eventually came to an end at the edge of a large, grassy clearing. Emma paused at the tree line, her frustration building. All right, what the hell were they doing? Being cryptic and mysterious had its place but she did not have the patience for it tonight.
Before Emma could even protest, Graham reached out for her hand. "Trust me."
Oh, he had no idea how much he was asking from her.
Still, she allowed him to tug her forward to the middle of the clearing. He let go of her hand, gave her a little smile, and clicked off the flashlight.
Once her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she understood why Graham had dragged her all the way out here. With no artificial light from town or from the flashlight, the only points of light at all were the stars. When she looked up at the sky, more stars than she could have ever possibly imagined filled her field of vision.
Graham's smile grew wider when he heard her gasp. He reached out again and gave her hand a gentle downward tug. She followed his silent instruction almost against her will, sitting down on the grass and leaning back on the palms of her hands, her eyes never leaving the star field above her.
"This," he said softly as he sat down next to her, turning his head up to face the sky as well, "is where I come to relax."
Emma could certainly see why. Going to the planetarium had always been her favorite field trip as a kid, but, as with most experiences, simulation had nothing on the real thing. She could see it all: constellations and the cloudy whiteness of the Milky Way and all the little stars that got snuffed out by city lights. "It's just so … pretty," she murmured as she gazed up at the twinkling spots of light.
"Pretty and vast," Graham agreed. "For me, looking up at the night sky has a tendency to make what's on my mind feel so … small. It makes me think that maybe whatever is troubling me isn't the crisis I believe it is. And it makes me think that maybe the only reason I think whatever is troubling me is the worst thing to ever happen to me is because it's happening at that particular moment. It's hard to properly judge something when you're in the middle of dealing with it."
"What happened today wasn't the worst thing that ever happened to me," Emma insisted, pulling her gaze from the sky. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough that she could make out his face. "I'm not denying that it was terrifying. But I think the fact that it was so terrifying then is what's making it so terrifying now."
Graham was silent for a beat. "I'm afraid I don't follow you."
She shrugged. "I was scared for Henry."
Sudden comprehension flickered across Graham's features. "And the very thought of being scared for someone is what is so terrifying for you."
"When he first found me, I didn't want him to need me," Emma said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I was just supposed to bring him back home and then go back to my own life."
"But you stayed for him," Graham softly pointed out.
She nodded. "Nothing has worked out the way it was supposed to. Somewhere along the line, I started to need him, too."
And with that, she tore her gaze from his. She'd officially admitted far more than she ever intended. Damn whiskey and its inhibition-lowering properties. Damn stars and their ability to calm even the most tumultuous mind. And damn kind sheriffs and their penchant for taking their deputies out to a place that was much cheaper than therapy and far less hangover-inducing than getting wasted.
Graham must have realized that she was uncomfortable with the conversation because he thankfully didn't push it. Instead, he looked back up at the sky and said with a soft teasing lilt in his voice, "The other thing stars are good for is keeping secrets. See? They're even winking at you."
Emma snorted, a smirk on her lips as she looked back over at Graham. "I think that might be your dorkiest observation yet."
The sheriff turned his head, regarding Emma in the pale starlight. "Anything to get my deputy to smile," he said, giving a halfhearted little shrug. "And now I know that assigning human qualities to inanimate objects won't really relax you but will make you laugh."
The smirk on Emma's face grew into a touched smile. What on earth had she done to deserve this guy in her life who was trying so hard to help her feel better? And that was along with Mary Margaret, who was quickly becoming the best friend Emma had ever had. Then there was Henry, who made her feel like maybe she did have a place to belong in this world ...and a place in someone's heart. What had she done to deserve any of them?
She turned her head back up to the sky. They sat in silence, watching the stars for so long that Emma's neck began to ache. After swiping a hand over the back of her neck, she lay down on her back and clasped her hands underneath her head.
Graham followed her lead, lying down next to her and interlacing his fingers behind his head. Emma jumped slightly when their elbows touched but she soon relaxed, her eyes focused on the star-blanketed sky above her.
The calm smile on her face grew even wider when a bright point of light streaked across the sky. Unbeknownst to her, Graham had been watching her to monitor her mood, and when he saw her smile, he softly murmured, "Did you make a wish?"
"I stopped wishing on stars years ago." Although, that wasn't quite true, was it? In a roundabout way, it was a wish on a star – a star-shaped candle, at any rate – that had brought Henry to her and, in turn, brought her to Storybrooke. That little boy was certainly a blessing, and whether she wanted to admit it or not, Storybrooke was shaping up to be a blessing in disguise for her as well.
Graham drew in a breath as if to speak but then changed his mind. He turned his head back up to the sky without another word.
As silence enveloped the clearing, Emma briefly allowed her eyes to close. Her thoughts had begun to quiet, thanks to the combination of the alcohol pleasantly making its way through her bloodstream and the serenity of the woods. She was finally calming down, relaxing, letting go of the tension and the stress, and sending it up to the stars.
Sheriff and deputy lay in the clearing until the mosquitoes found them. Graham sat up with a groan, waving away the insects. Emma grunted as she smacked at a mosquito on her forearm before jumping to her feet. "I think that's our cue," Graham said as he flicked on the flashlight.
Emma nodded and followed him back towards the woods. With one last look above her at the night sky, she disappeared into the trees.
The walk down the path back to the car was a little more rushed this time around since sheriff and deputy were attempting to dodge flying, bloodsucking insects. When they finally got back to the car, Graham opened the door for Emma before running around the back of the cruiser and ducking in behind the wheel.
"Next time," he said, panting slightly from their frantic pace, "remind me to bring bug spray. Stupid little vampires."
Emma chuckled as she rubbed the fresh bite on her forearm, trying not to scratch it. "Will do."
After Graham had turned the car around on the access road and started to head back to civilization, Emma said, "Thank you for bringing me out here, Graham."
"You're very welcome," he replied. He took his eyes off the road just long enough to smirk at her. "So what do you think? Going to a clearing in the woods is much better than downing whiskey, yes?"
"I don't know that I'd go that far," Emma teased even though everything within her was screaming that yes, a little hike through the woods and some stargazing with Graham had actually calmed her down far better than the whiskey ever could have.