Confused, sitting at the edge of the bed, his heart and mind coldly excruciated, he starts to think how much easier it was when buried under layers of dirt, could cleared off worries, shed the weight of the world and patterns on the threshold of impending death. He stares back again at the shut door of the bathroom and dares to speculate what if Leroy came late… late enough they could have made it to the terminal releasing sigh of literally suffocating desire they yielded to, but not too late before the last breath of air fatally wasting.

For the matter, he doesn't feel embarrassed with Leroy who found them half naked indulged in lust, and talks about their 'dissolute' sheriff likely to spread around the town is his least concern. But with the rescue, awkwardly untimely interrupted their primeval striving for life, they were completely unhoped-for brought back to deal with reality, which now seems like misses sense and dims swift. Twenty four hours since then and he's still disoriented, whether all that in fact is just an illusion, dull and pointless, as the death could have dug its teeth and claws, feasting at the moment over a waning spirit.

This is how it feels… when she slips out of his arms or away from sight… The latter scares him the most, that she may not reappear, but what her presence, in turn, ignites in him conceived as too improper for the entity. Either way, if he won't define his stand and take actions, it threatens to dement him and he'll lose her anyway...

He's about to call her name again, when she suddenly opens the door, looking drastic, so she wants her words to be.

"Stop it!" voice strong but shaking with emotions. "Stop coming under a lame pretext of your job and duty, because… I guess, it's quite boring here and the sheriff can always happen along to inform me personally on any change of a wind, but stop it! Because… you do that and then we kiss… and then you withdraw with that your fucking 'I-am-a-gentleman'! Again?!"

She's fairy aware she behaves like on old virgin on her period, but he's the one responsible for her regress to unbalance and lust. It's not about this mean game of 'seducing and rejecting' he tries on her, not about sex.

If she was there alone to die in a steel cage buried under a mudflow, well, it'd be desperately sad. Point.

If, after hours of awaiting a tricky death meanwhile reconsidering her life, she was saved and survived, well, she'd be lucky. Point.

But no, he preferred to interfere in her 'messy' fate, following behind her the way out of the town. The town where barely something happens and the sheriff is only person representing law enforcement body, but her car was stolen at day light first hour she was there. She definitely got him work to do, and grated on his nerves, and depreciated, but 'join me in death' farewell party invitation was too much.

Originally she even didn't care to understand why he infused her with those emotions, but like if she felt he has some magic weapon to destroy her bubble. Bubble of peace and solitude, quite pliant for day-by-day people, acquaintances and friends, and yet always remaining fixed and sufficient for years. Until unfamiliar longing for something unexplored became a bother deliberately spoiling her careless fancy-free living.

And so she ventured or, perhaps, rather did stupid, when she dropped everything, jumped into the car and headed in whatever direction out of her native city. In particular, when, as if she never watched road horror movies, she took an odd traveller to drive her to unheard Storybrooke which, at its mildest, even has no street map in Google and, going to extremes, wanted to bury her under its soil alive.

Ok, let it be it has something against newcomers, but what about its sheriff? He's pure as the driven snow, and all her carpings, mockery and caprices, she barely used to play on anyone even without malice, were clearly so unjustified. She knew that. And caged by mother Nature together, as he flashed to check on her when a prevenient rockfall almost pushed her off the wet road, she had nothing else to do but confide.

All following events in their misfortune were their own will, aware or instinctive, even if deceived with an image of soon pity end. But she chose to trust and surrender, she opened up and consequently let him in, forwarding those fundamental bases of her bubble crack as ice. And the real thing, God, the thing is that she loved it. Loved him there in her bubble, them revelling on ruins of overestimated and overworn concepts of peace and solitude.

That is what makes her restless presently - the longing she learned the meaning and reason of and pinching doubt she can feed it. Since this is more than physical appeal and want, but he is just a passenger to pick up on this driftless road and then drop off. She can't have him, can't keep him, can't squeeze him into her bubble, where now she's prostrate on the wrecks, and take with her...

"You leave immediately. And never 'till I'm here you get around me, because I don't need it." It could pass for the verity due to the determined tone of hers, but after a pause she goes on less steadily. "Because it makes me mad…" In very deed, this agony disarmed her of her taunt, and emotions have to find another way out. Thus, she is torn between punching him, or grabbing and kissing him to shut up that damn absurd gentleman in him, or merely running away not to see him, because... "It hurts," her voice eventually fades in frightening truth of it, while they stare at each other, affected.

Ok, that is it. Could be too dramatic, but certainly crucial.

When he gets up obeyingly, she swallows hard, closes her eyes and tries to breathe deep and calm with her heartbeat, though, overleaping the sound of his feet, receding, until it gets silent and she hears a click.

"You realize", followed by her puzzled gaze he turns back to her from the door just locked. "…that you break all my principles since the moment you crossed the town border at overspeed and made me reduce a fine to a kind warning?" He speaks softly and alluring with that his warm grain of tease, while approaching her intolerably slowly, taking off his jacket and throwing it on the bed. "Unfortunately, I can't arrest you for violating my morals, what, though, would definitely solve the problem with you staying here and would gratify my days at the station," his hand loosens his tie and, as he reaches her, falls tenderly on her cheek, the other one pulls her close by the waist.

"What I've said then… that you're the most delightful company to die in… that you're the one worth dying for… but should be the one to life for... I do feel that. I acknowledge that now in my senses and affirm once again. I wish you be the one I live for…" shockingly sincere and serious it sounds this time, the sweet confession which instigated their first kiss and engrossing sequence during their recent confinement. "And I want to make love to you," he breathes out pressing his forehead lightly against hers. "I do hope your discontent with me stops here and for good," his stare so intense now with much more in his eyes, she's aware, to keep ravishing her soul piece by piece, but she's yet able to show some fight.

"If you'll be just hoping, wanting, but not doing, then no."

"Deal," he comes fast cutting off further argument and dashing to invade her mouth with his.

That is it. He has a firm intention to make this night long and fulfilled... so her staying here in Storybrooke.