Matchmaker

By ReaverPoet

Title: Matchmaker

Author: ReaverPoet

Working from: Once Upon A Time Season 2

Spoilers: Through "The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter"

Rating: T for language

Complete?: Yes

Disclaimer: No copyright challenge is intended. Not distributed for money.

Summary: Graham has unfinished business. References to Graham/Regina. Graham/Emma, and implied future Emma/Regina

Archive: yes, but do not edit in any way, and keep all headings.

Feedback to: ReaverPoet-da . Flames, trolls, and general meanness will be completely ignored.

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It was already evening by the time Regina saw the wolf at her door.

She had been looking down on her little orchard from the second floor, drawing what comfort she could from the familiar trees. Then she saw him, pacing back and forth in front of her door. He was clearly not a werewolf, just a regular sized wolf, of the sort that shouldn't have any interest in waiting at people's doors.

She had two very cold glasses of expensive chardonnay and slept uneasily, dreaming of storms.

In the morning, the wolf was still at the door, sleeping. The Queen snuck out the back door of her mansion to get groceries, without daring to ask herself why such a powerful sorceress wouldn't just chase a mongrel animal from her doorstep.

That evening she opened the front door, and glared at him. The wolf sat on its haunches and regarded her steadily. "I have no interest in anything you have to say to me, " said the Queen to the wolf, feeling a little foolish for speaking to the animal at all. The wolf just stared. Regina shut the door and finished the bottle of Chardonnay. She slept on the couch, with the television on.

The next day, she didn't leave the house at all.

That night it rained hard. At two AM, the Queen, unable to sleep, opened the door and let the wolf in. He shook the water off himself, getting as much even coverage as possible on her expensive Persian rug. The Queen regarded him with a look of pain on her face.

"I suppose I should have known that I could only kill your body. Your soul was always in the wolf, wasn't it," she said to him.

He sneezed, and trotted up to her bedroom, tracking mud. After he had dried himself by rolling on her bedspread, he fell asleep on the floor. Regina slept on the couch again.

In her dreams, she was lying next to Graham on her bed-both of them fully clothed, and neither touching the other.

"I'll trade you my forgiveness for a favor, " he said to the ceiling.

"Go to Hell," she suggested.

"I want you to take care of Emma for me."

"Yes, I can see that happening," answered the Queen, her sarcasm a palpable, icy force in the air.

"Despite that, you will," he replied, calmly. "It's just what happens."

Then, there was only the sound of two people breathing.

Regina awoke to an empty house that smelled strongly of wet dog. She spent an hour methodically smashing every glass object in the house against whichever wall was convenient. Then she went out her front door, to buy all the air freshener the grocery store might have in stock.

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Emma, unlike Regina, never remembers her dreams. When she was young, she used to have nightmares all the time, but her foster parents discouraged her from talking about them. Soon enough, she learned to lose the memories by throwing herself into the new day.

When Emma saw the wolf, it was sitting by her car door, in the early morning light.

"Ruby?" she asked. But the wolf didn't look like Ruby's wolf form. It let its tongue fall from its mouth and panted at her.

"OK. You're a real wolf sort of wolf, aren't you?" Emma said, staring at the wolf who was blocking her way to work. She went back up to consult David, who was good with dogs, and might be able to coax a wild animal away from a car. When she came back down, with David and Mary Margaret, the wolf was gone.

"It's Graham's wolf," commented Henry, between mouthfuls of marshmallow breakfast cereal. "I bet it's his wolf."

"I'll drive you to school today," replied Emma, because it is difficult to talk to children about death.

"That would be great," said Henry, because it is difficult to talk to adults about magical wolves.

In the car, they found a torn, purple hand towel, covered in muddy paw prints, and embroidered with an "M".

"That's from my house," remarked Henry, examining the rag. "Mom said it's Egyptian cotton. Whatever that is."

"Throw it away," suggested Emma, indicating the trash can at the side of the street. "It's ruined anyway."

"Think it's a message?" asked Henry, hoping to nudge Emma towards what was perfectly obvious from his perspective.

"No, Kid, I think it's just a mess," replied Emma, ignoring the doggy smell in her car. At noon, she stopped at the gas station, and bought a pine scented air freshener for the car, shaped like a Christmas tree.

The next morning, the wolf was standing by her car again.

Emma sighed. She sat down, ten feet from the wolf. "OK, maybe you're not just a wolf."

The wolf gave a little happy bark. It's important to celebrate small successes.

"So...I don't suppose Timmy is down the well?" asked Emma.

The wolf sneezed.

"Ok, that was bad. But you have to cut me some slack. I've never chatted with a wolf before."

The wolf continued to stare.

"Maybe you should ask him to take you to what he wants?" called Henry from the window above. When Emma looked back at the car, however, the wolf was gone.

On the third morning, Emma was taking sips from her travel mug of coffee as she walked to the car. It was particularly good coffee, as Mary Margaret would no longer let her drink the instant stuff she was accustomed to. It was possibly the taste of the freshly ground coffee that distracted her enough that she did not see the wolf rush at her ankles. She tripped and fell, and her head struck concrete.

It really was only the smallest moment of black unconsciousness. Hardly enough for her to hear Graham's whisper in her ear, but when David called her name and she opened her eyes, she remembered what the former Sheriff had said.

"No. Oh, no, no, no! " she argued with the absence of the wolf. David examined her head for blood, and her pupils for dilation.

"Crap." she announced, with angry resignation.

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It was noon when Emma rang Regina's doorbell. She rang it three times before the Evil Queen, looking red-eyed and sleep deprived, opened the door.

"Sheriff Swan," Regina acknowledged.

Emma's face contorted with the difficulty of what she had to say. "This is going to sound insane, but Graham told me I need to talk to you. Also, why does your house smell like a florist shop?"

Sighing, Regina swung the door wider, and gestured for Emma to come in. As she shut the door, she purposefully ignored the sound of some meddling beast sneezing in the distance.