Hello! Just wanted to say thanks again for reading. I'm hoping to churn one of these chapters out every couple of days. Comments and feedback will help with that and are always appreciated. This chapter is a little longer. I hope you like it.
"Caitriona Cunnigham… hmm?" The Doctor took a look at her chart, standing over her, blocking out some of the jarring white light from the overhead lamp. He had a quizzical look on his face.
"My parents like alliteration…" She croaked the words out of her parched mouth… she might have even shrugged if she hadn't thought it would make her sick. She didn't feel as bad as she had when she'd woken up in the woods, but she still felt terrible. Everything was stiff and aching and she could tell that her left eye was swollen nearly shut. "People usually call me Cait…"
"Well, Cait… you were very lucky. Your injuries aren't as severe as we first thought…" He flipped a page on the chart and glanced up at her before continuing. "Bruised ribs… all of them, it looks like…" He sounded surprised even as he said it "moderate concussion, sprained left ankle, various abrasions to the legs, hands, arms, face… your right wrist is probably sprained but we'll wait for the swelling to go down some just to make sure it isn't broken." He looked finished and then added, with a smile that she assumed was supposed to be charming "Oh, and one hell of a black eye…"
"Thanks… I think." She groaned, glancing around, past the doctor and to the hospital room she was in. "Where exactly am I?" She had tried to avoid thinking about that too much up until now but… lying here, awake, and feeling much like she was going to stay that way, it seemed like time to face up to the fact that she was somewhere she wasn't meant to be.
"You're in… ah…" He hesitated a moment and cleared his throat "Storybrooke… Maine."
All she could do was stare at him. Maine? MAINE? She had been in Virginia. Yesterday she had left her apartment in Williamsburg, intending to walk down to the historic, colonial section of town. She had planned to find a quiet spot to camp out and get some writing done. She'd packed her Surface, a water bottle, everything she normally carried in her purse and done just that. Walking down through Market Square, passing the King's Arms Tavern, she'd turned down a little side alley and propped herself under a large Oak, in the shade. There had been a small paddock of lambs nearby, she could hear them baa-ing softly. And then… what? She searched her brain but couldn't seem to find the memory, only the vague sensation of falling and fear and then nothing.
"Cait?" The doctor was speaking again, how long he'd been calling her she didn't know. She looked up at him, the confusion and fear must have been written plainly on her face because he set down the chart and stepped over to the side of the bed. "It's alright, take a deep breath. Your memory is going to be a little foggy for the next little while, a concussion will do that… but it will come back. You're in the hospital in Storybrooke, all your things are here… your bag, your phone, even your rogue shoe." He smiled, trying for humor. "We'll get you sorted out… don't worry." But there was something behind his eyes that belied his comforting words. He had told her not to be worried, but it was evident that he already was. Before she had time to examine that thought any further one of the nurses was calling him. The doctor gave her a sympathetic look and then grabbed his charts on the way out the door.
"I'll check in on you later… No doubt the Sheriff will want to speak to you too, but for now, rest."
Cait wasn't sure rest was on the menu just now. She had been sleeping for a while, about 8 or so hours and despite the fact that she was still as tired as she could ever remember being, the aches in her body were making it difficult to be comfortable enough to sleep again. When she'd first woken she had asked to be put on the bare minimum level of pain killers, she hated how out of it they made her feel and being in an unfamiliar place, she wasn't keen on being any more out of control of her faculties than she already was. That meant that she was feeling all of those bumps and bruises though. It didn't really matter anyway, not ten minutes after Dr. Whale had disappeared one of the nurses was standing in her doorway next to a blonde woman in a dark red leather jacket, a Sheriff's badge pinned to her lapel.
"Miss Cunningham, this is Sheriff Swan, she is here to speak with you about… your incident." Cait nodded a little, glancing between the women. 'Incident'... it was an incident alright. She was found on the side of a little used road in the woods, looking like she'd been toss from a car in an accident where there was no car in a place she hadn't been anywhere near only hours before. No one was really talking to her about it, not the doctor, not the nurses, they seemed to be tiptoeing around the circumstances of Cait's arrival here in Storybrooke and her pain addled brain was too foggy to try and figure out why.
"Thanks Blue… You can just call me Emma... "The woman was holding a few pieces of paper in a folder which she laid in her lap as she stepped over to the chair next to Cait's bed and took a seat.
"Caitriona… but Cait will do too" Cait said by way of introduction. "I don't remember much...I'm sorry…" The woman was nodding, looking at Cait but almost through her, in a way. She had the same puzzled look on her face that everyone she'd met her gave her.
"Nice to meet you, sorry it is under these circumstances… And it's ok… Dr. Whale said you were pretty concussed… I have a witness statement here, from the man who found you and called in to the hospital… I just wanted to check these details with you and make sure nothing else had come to you." Cait nodded. Right, the man that found her, she'd nearly forgotten about him… well, maybe not completely. It seemed as if she had maybe dreamed about him, but it was hard to tell if she had or it was just a hazy memory from her brief period of lucidity on the side of the road. He had blue eyes. He had been wearing a scarf. Her brain hadn't seemed to be able to hold on to much more than that. "Do you mind if I read you the statement?"
"No, Sheriff...ah… Emma, go ahead. Maybe it will help." Cait listened as Emma read out the account and while it didn't help her remember anything more than was already noted there, it did seem to freshen up the memory of waking on the pavement and being pulled into the mystery man's arms. "Who was it? The person that found me?" Her voice was still raspy, and Emma leaned over to pick up a cup of water from the side table, fitting a straw into the lid and handing it to Cait. She took a long drink, nodding at Emma who took the cup back and set it aside. "Thanks."
"You're welcome. Ah, his name is Jefferson. He lives in a big place near the road where he found you, I think he walks that way ay night pretty often." She seemed reluctant to say more than that and busied herself putting away the statement in the folder. "I appreciate you listening to this… I know it's going to be some time before the concussion clears up, but if you remember anything else, see if you can write it down and let me know. Normally I wouldn't be involved in this but, Dr. Whale must have told you… there isn't really any apparent cause for your injuries… other than that you hit the pavement really hard but, there was no car near there, no reason for you to have done that." Cait nodded, wetting her lips with her tongue and trying to suppress the panic that was welling up in her throat.
"He told me… I… I don't know how I got here. I can't remember…" Emma looked like she was going to speak but Cait kept going. "I know that concussions can play with your memory and brain function but… I don't remember anything after yesterday afternoon... "She felt dampness at the corners of her eyes and sniffled loudly, trying to keep it together. "I was spending the day writing, near my apartment… in Williamsburg. Virginia." She added the state for emphasis. "That's a long way to go and not remember how…" She let that hang for a moment, glancing over at Emma who was looking down at the folder in her hands, gears evidently turning in her head.
"It is, but we'll figure it out. I don't want you to worry. You're safe here. Dr. Whale said it looked like all of your things were intact, if a little battered." She stood from the chair, reaching for something in her back pocket. "I brought you a charger for your phone… he mentioned you had the phone when he called me but said it was dead. I thought you might want to give your family or boyfriend, or whoever a call…"
"Thank you… I do. I… I guess I'll call my parents, I don't have a boyfriend... They'll want to come here if they know I'm in the hospital…" Cait shook her head, the idea of explaining this to them was daunting. Emma seemed to be thinking the same thing as she fished around in Cait's rumpled backpack and pulled out her phone. She plugged one end of the cable into the wall outlet and the other into the cell phone, resting it on the table beside her within arm's reach. The top right corner of the screen was cracked but it looked otherwise in decent condition, and as soon as it was connected to power the screen lit up with the charging indicator, so that was a good sign.
"You know… I don't know how your parents are but, sometimes this kind of news can be shocking. Maybe it's best to break it to them gently, you know, until we know a little more…" She seemed to be picking her words carefully and not for the first time this morning Cait got the idea that her appearance here was more out of the ordinary than even the obvious circumstances indicated. "I mean, I'd hate for them to have to drive here from Virginia or, wherever they are… Dr. Whale said he didn't think you'd be in here more than a week so… you know, why make them worry." She swallowed, trying to smile as if she were giving a casual piece of friendly advice. Cait wasn't buying that exactly but it didn't change the fact that Emma was right. She was going to have to omit a few things if she wanted to keep her family from freaking out and jumping in a car to drive who knows how many hours to Maine. Her parents weren't even in Virginia, they lived in Georgia, and the idea of them speeding up I-95 worrying over her condition made her feel more guilt and worse than the idea of fibbing to them did, at least for now.
"Yeah, you're right I think… I may just let them know I've taken a little trip. I know Dr. Whale is waiting on some results about my wrist and other things too so, might be best to wait until we have the facts…" She sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than she was agreeing with Emma, but the Sheriff gave her a reassuring look and nodded before turning toward the door.
"I'll stop back by and check on you, if that's alright. I'm pretty new here so, I know what it's like being on your own somewhere unfamiliar…" Cait nodded, exhaustion seeping back into her body, temporarily forgotten during their conversation. She appreciated the thought and hoped it might offer a chance to figure out a little more about how she'd gotten here to begin with.
"Thanks, I appreciate it…" She smiled as best she could and watched as the woman walked out of the door. After that Cait was fighting sleep again, wrestling with being tired and hurting. Sleep seemed like it was winning though, this time, but the charging indicator on her phone told her it had enough power to turn on and make a call, so she pushed herself for just a little more.
Another half hour after that and she had called her parents, sent a couple of texts to friends, and even made a few notes in her phone about why she said she'd gone on a sudden, week-long get-a-way to a little-known seaside town in Maine. She was afraid her brain would get confused later and she'd blow her cover, so jotting down the basics in her phone's notepad seemed like a good idea. By the time she was done her eyelids were barely open and she had to try several times to set the phone on the table. She was only still a moment after before her eyes had fluttered closed and sleep began pulling her under.
The knock on the door sounded just as Jefferson put his hand on the knob, he and Grace were on the way to drop her off at school. When it opened he was surprised to find Emma Swan standing on the other side of it, her Sheriff's badge prominently displayed.
"Sheriff Swan…" He murmured, Grace peeking around from behind him to see who was at the door.
"Who is it Papa?" The girl asked, peering around her father's waist until she could see the woman on the other side of the threshold. "Oh, Hello!" The girl waved, a little shyly, one of her hands clutching the back of her father's coat.
"We are on the way to school…" He said flatly. He felt bad about what had happened between he and Emma, and Mary Margaret… well, what he'd done. His eyes dropped as the memory came to him and he cleared his throat, shuffling his weight from one foot to the other.
"Yeah, Hi, Grace, right?" Emma gave the girl a wave of her own and stepped back. "Maybe I can walk with you, I have a few questions about last night." He could tell she saw the memory of their last encounter clearly in the set of his face and since she was making an effort to be cordial, he decided he would do the same.
"About the girl you found?" Grace questioned, turning her face to look at him as he gently pushed her out through the door by the top of her book bag.
"Don't worry about it, you just go ahead, I'll be right behind you, ok?" He gave her a smile and she returned it, tip-toeing and gripping the lapel of his jacket, giving a little hop up to plant a kiss on his cheek. His Grace, she never failed to make his insides turn into mush. His smile widened, and he brushed his hand over her hair as she trotted down the steps while he locked the door behind them. Emma waited on him and matched his step as they hit the sidewalk behind Grace. "So, you said you wanted to talk…"
"Yeah…" Emma began reciting the details of last night… where he found the woman, what time it was. He was nodding and agreeing. He'd written it all down in detail hoping to avoid doing just this, but he reminded himself, looking at his daughter walking happily ahead of him, that now wasn't the time to be cross. "Her injuries are pretty extensive but not serious, fortunately… concussion, sprained wrist and ankle, bruised ribs, cuts and scrapes... Dr. Whale said it was like she'd been tossed from something onto the road… but there was no car." She was holding his statement and a few other documents.
"Yeah, it looked like it… no, no car." Jefferson put his hands into his pockets, cursing himself under his breath. That was quite the list of bumps and bruises. He had a vaguely guilty feeling, as if there was something he could've done to prevent those things, though rationally he knew there wasn't. "She was pretty out of it… didn't say much. Told me her name… well, her first name."
"Right… Caitriona…" Emma was reading from the paper. It kind of looked like Katrina but with the worst spelling she'd ever seen, she was sure that's how the woman had pronounced it though, so she went with that.
"Caitriona…" He repeated, confirming the pronunciation as Katrina. "Cait…She said, a nickname I guess…" He said it as Kate, repeating what the woman had said to him the previous night. "That's really all… She asked where she was, what had happened… but she passed out again before I could answer. I…" He had started to say that he had been scared, but he wasn't sure he wanted to. The way Sheriff Emma Swan was looking at him right now he was sure he didn't need to say it, she seemed to have figured that out and her face softened a little as it dawned on her. "She was pretty beat up... "He tried to shrug, as if it wasn't a big deal… as if he hadn't lost a night of sleep over the way she'd stared up at him, how her body felt limp in his arms, how helpless he'd felt holding her. Something dawned on him then too...and later, he would wonder why it had taken him so long to make the connection. In this moment, it nearly stole his breath, and he looked pointedly down, furiously blinking his eyes to keep the tears burning at the back of them at bay.
Priscilla… hadn't he held her just the same, hiding in that cabinet, an arrow jammed through her body while the life faded from her eyes. His face was wet suddenly, and he brought the back of a hand up to wipe away the errant tears. Emma, for her part, was looking ahead, though he knew she had seen his face. He appreciated that she was pretending she hadn't. But that was it… it wasn't so much the thought of his Grace as it was the memory of his dying wife resurfacing after all this time. He'd fought hard to bury that. It was his fault...her dying, her body left behind in some other place, just so he could go home to Grace and then screw it all up again. The girl hadn't died this time though and she wasn't his wife. That was long, long ago now. Something he needed to put firmly behind him. He couldn't raise Grace while constantly wallowing in the self-pity and hatred he felt when he thought about the circumstances of her mother's death, but it was hard... The guilt of having left his daughter was crushing at the best of times, adding Priscilla's death made it almost unbearable.
Emma cleared her throat as they approached the school. "Thanks… I just wanted to make sure you didn't remember anything else… I know last night was… hectic." She gave him something of a smile and waited just a moment, making sure he hadn't in fact remembered anything more. When he shook his head, she stepped to the side, pausing before fully turning away from him. "She's awake… you should swing by the hospital and see her. Might make you feel better…" Emma had a very strange look on her face then, when Jefferson finally managed to pull himself together enough to look at her. "I know what you and everyone else is thinking but… we have to treat her like she came here accidentally, which for all we know, she did. I know it's suspicious but… I guess I'm trying to say thank you for helping her… I know you must have questioned it and… just… thanks. It was the right thing to do Jefferson." She reached out and squeezed his shoulder. It was a little awkward, but the message was received. He pulled a hand from his pocket and gave her a nod and wave before taking a few long strides to catch up to Grace, laying his arm across her shoulders.
"Alright… I'm sorry about that sweetheart." He'd told Grace a little of what had happened, figuring she'd hear about it at school the way news travelled in this town. "Just had to make sure the lady from last night is doing alright…" Grace leaned into him, tucking herself further under his arm as they walked the last few feet to the school.
"You saved her Papa…" The girl said simply, smiling up at her father with something he thought was adoration but was afraid to dwell on, lest it disappear.
"I guess so… Sheriff Swan was right though, it was the right thing to do… help people. You remember that, ok baby?" He had turned her to face him, squatting down in front of her and brushing a few strands of hair back from her face. "Now, have a good day at school. I love you." He drew her into a hug and placed a kiss on her forehead before letting her go.
"I will Papa… I love you." She gave him that heart melting smile again and skipped off toward the school, catching up to a gaggle of girls her age and falling in alongside them. He watched her until she had disappeared into the building and then started back for home. When he hit main street he started to make the turn that would lead him back to the house, but something gave him pause. He could see the top of the hospital, rising over a few lower shops and buildings. The girl was awake… so that meant she was ok. At least ok enough. He should just go home, she was fine, she was in the best place she could be and even though they might all be running their shops, attending classes, working as if this were a real town, it wasn't. There was a lot going on here and more important things for him to focus on. Everyone else was still fresh out of the curse, trying to struggle on in Storybrooke with their newly remembered selves competing against the lives they had here... having a stranger suddenly appear in their midst was a frightening prospect indeed. He wondered how they'd react to the news if they didn't already know and he thought about what Sheriff Swan had said "We have to treat her like she came here accidentally" ... if that was true, if she really had just been brought here somehow, she must have also been terrified.
She didn't know how long she'd been asleep. It could have been days, or minutes. She just knew that suddenly there were voices near her, floating in through the open doorway, and speaking steadily. When her eyes blinked open the two figures standing on the other side of the door stepped inside. One, in front, was Dr. Whale. The other she didn't know, at least, not right away. The second man was tall, at least as tall as the doctor. He was wearing a long, dark coat over a black shirt and black and grey patterned vest. Tucked in to the top was a silk scarf, tied almost like a cravat, in a purple so dark that it too seemed nearly black. She remembered the scarf and then as she finally brought her gaze up to his face it hit her… Those blue eyes were staring at her, the look in them hard to place. This was the man who had found her. She took another moment to groggily appraise him. He seemed young, her age or a few years older. He was definitely handsome… rakish, her mother might have said. He had the same stubble growing over his jaw that she now remembered from the night before, and his brown hair was styled up and away from his face, fashionably disheveled in places.
"Wake up Miss Cunningham, you have a visitor…" Dr. Whale had been saying. Cait knew that the other man was watching her look him over, but he didn't say anything about it. He merely looked at her in return. She could see him taking in the bed and machines, her bruised and swollen face. "This is Jefferson, he's the one who found you and kindly called us the other night… He wanted to see how you were doing." Whale stepped back then, gesturing from the man, Jefferson, to the empty seat by the bed and then moving out of the room.
Jefferson didn't move for a moment. He seemed unsure of himself somehow. She could see he was shifting his weight and wondered why he appeared so uncomfortable. After another heartbeat he carefully made his way to the side of the bed and sat down, awkwardly, leaning forward a little with his elbows resting on his thighs.
"I'm, ah, glad you're awake and, doing better." He swallowed visibly, and his gaze dropped away from her face "You looked pretty bad last night…"
"Yeah, I, well, I feel like I was run over by something but…" She didn't know what else to say, there was the obvious element of nothing being present to have caused her injuries, that and the fact she couldn't remember how she'd gotten there. "I guess I really owe you though, no telling how long I might have been out there if you hadn't found me… Could have been a lot worse…" She felt like she was on the verge of rambling so the stopped herself and forced her eyes to meet his. "Thank you." She managed to sit up a little then, though not without a few pained groans and great effort, enough that he scooted forward on his seat, brow furrowing in concern, hands briefly coming out toward her as if to help but not knowing how. "It's ok… it's ok" She murmured, getting herself into as comfortable a position as possible and then extended her hand to him. "I think I may have already told you this but… I wouldn't call last night a proper introduction. I'm Cait and you have no idea how nice it is to meet you Jefferson… like I said, I owe you."
The ghost of a smile flitted across his mouth and he reached out, taking her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You did, tell me… but I'm glad you're well enough to tell me again…" He was looking down at her hand, still holding it, carefully. She was watching him, her breath hitching in her throat as his thumb inadvertently smoothed over the back of her knuckles. It was her turn to swallow hard now, nerves on edge, a shiver running through her body that had nothing to do with the temperature. He seemed to realize he'd been holding her hand too long and pulled away, folding both of his own hands in his lap and looking around the room. He seemed like he was having a lot of trouble, like there was more going on behind those intense blue eyes than just an introduction in a hospital room.
The silence hung thick for a few minutes and then he looked at her again, fixing her with a stare that made her heart thud loudly in her chest. "And you don't remember how you got here?" His eyebrows raised a little as he spoke, and she didn't know whether he, like everyone else, seemed to know something she didn't or was skeptical of her 'I don't know' response.
"No… I… I got up, yesterday and walked a couple of miles down from my place to sit and write." Early she'd thought that it seemed like people were avoiding this topic but after having explained it to the Sheriff and now, having to do it again… she felt like she didn't want to have to say it. Saying it made her think about it. It made this feeling of panic rise in her throat, choking her and flooding her with an overwhelming sense that she was totally out of control. "I was sitting under a tree, there were sheep in the paddock next to me, people were walking around Market Square… I… I was in Virginia… that's...what? A thousand miles, literally, from here?" The pitch of her voice had risen as well as the volume and she could feel the anxiety she'd been fighting to keep down threatening to take over. It had been hard enough to call her parents this morning… white lies were one thing but making up an excuse for a last-minute trip like this while lying in a hospital bed was something else altogether. She had no idea how she'd kept it together enough to be believed, but with every time she had to explain that she had no idea how she'd gotten from the southern coast of Virginia to Maine it got harder and harder to keep up any semblance of calm.
Jefferson seemed apologetic when she looked at him again. The stare was gone, his eyes softened, and mouth turned down slightly, though he still regarded her with a steady gaze. She felt herself trembling, the exhaustion, pain, and panic on the verge of spilling over with the tears that were burning her eyes. She felt one escape and slip down her cheek and turned her face away, pressing it into the pillow and shutting her eyes tightly. "I'm sorry…" She whispered, afraid to speak any louder lest the tears fully take over. "I didn't mean to… I mean… I should be thanking you not, not going off about…" She didn't really know how to finish that sentence, so she didn't. She hadn't heard him get up but when she managed to look at him again he was standing over the bed, leaning down a little, his hand extended and frozen in the air as if he'd meant to touch her and then thought better of it.
"It's ok… You should rest you've… you've been through a lot, and I shouldn't have asked. It's none of my business...I'm the one who should be sorry." He stood up, hand dropping to his side. "Dr Whale, Sheriff Swan, they'll take care of you… Don't worry about that. Just worry about getting better…" He offered a smile but there was something sad about it and she searched his eyes but found nothing discernable there. He held her gaze a moment longer and then gave her a quick nod before turning and walking out of the room.
When he was gone and she had wiggled her way back down into the bed and covers she felt sleep pulling at her again and it wasn't long before she was drifting off. Her dreams were fast and muted...vague images of sunlight and the large oak tree. There was a flash of purple light and darkness. She was falling. It felt like forever, just falling, in blackness… and being afraid. Then she wasn't falling, she was crashing, and heaving, and her world was spinning until a pair of arms righted her, held on… blue eyes piercing her own, colored with concern. A voice, speaking to her distantly, the words muffled as if under water and then darkness again. She dreamed it over and over. Sunlight, purple flash, falling, crashing, arms and eyes, nothingness. She dreamed it until being tired and awake was better than the constant cycle that sleep had brought. When she woke herself, she reached out for and held the button to call the nurses in her hand for a few moments, her sleep addled brain taking longer than necessary to decide. Maybe just for today she'd have a little more medicine, especially if it meant she could rest without dreaming. Jefferson had said Dr. Whale would take care of her, and whether it was wise or not, she felt like she could trust him. She wanted to trust him. So, she pressed the button, and when the nurse had come and gone she pushed away the fear and panic and anxiety of all the unanswered questions and confusion and allowed the blissful emptiness of a medicine-induced sleep to take her away.
The walk home seemed longer than usual, colder, and Jefferson pulled his jacket more tightly around himself. Visiting the woman in the hospital had been a mistake, he was sure of that now. This whole thing had rocked what little emotional stability he felt like he'd been building since he'd gotten Grace back and now… One little thing had cost him a night of sleep and more energy than wanted to admit thinking about his faults, his mistakes, and the pain they'd caused him and others. His absence in Grace's life for so long was always lingering at the back of his mind, but diving back into the memories of his wife's death, his scheming against Emma and Mary Margaret… He felt like he was walking a dangerous line toward a place where these things threatened to break free of the places he'd locked them away. He couldn't have them running rampant in his head… maybe facing his guilt, his flaws, maybe that was the right way but, he knew it would come with a heavy price and just when he had gotten Grace back, when he needed to prove to her and himself that he could keep it together… well it wasn't a price he thought he could afford to pay. So, he locked it all up in his mind, pushed away, forced himself to forget about it. At least he'd thought he had…
And then there was this woman… He hadn't realized he was also feeling angry until he shut the front door behind himself so hard that it rattled the hinges. He felt like he'd embarrassed himself, or her, or both of them at the hospital. Why had he held her hand like that? He didn't know, he only knew that it was the lesser of evils based on how he'd felt while there. When she was struggling to sit up and then, when she had started to cry, frustrated by her own confusion and situation. He'd wanted nothing more than scoop her up into his arms. He'd seen it in his mind's eye… sliding onto the edge of the hospital bed and pulling her against him, wrapping his arms around her and holding her until she was calmed and quieted. He hadn't done that of course. He'd restrained himself, more or less, allowing himself that one lingering touch when they shook hands. She probably was glad to see him go so quickly. Jefferson was self-aware enough to know that it had been far too intimate, far too familiar.
He tossed his jacket onto the sofa, sitting down heavily at the piano bench and leaning down over the keys, elbows resting on the cover. He placed his head in his hands, trying to slow his breathing, to sooth his raw nerves and anger. At least he didn't really need to see her again… He'd helped her, he'd visited her… what other reason would he have to see her? There was the question of her mysterious arrival in Storybrooke, but he had decided at the hospital, when he said it was none of his business, he meant it. He wasn't going to get involved. He wanted, like everyone else, to keep on living here while they found a way back home and that was that. He had to worry about Grace and about getting her back to their own land. He knew now that getting a new story for the both of them wasn't really possible and he wasn't planning on extending his help to Regina ever again anyway, so he would settle for home. Even if it meant the cottage with dirt floors… they'd been happy there, at least. And so what if he'd behaved a little inappropriately in the hospital. It wasn't his fault if finding this injured girl had brought back the memories of his wife… if seeing her pale and still in the hospital bed, surrounded by her dark red hair, looking at him with those deep, green eyes had made him feel things he'd been desperately trying to hide away. It wasn't his fault if helping her had caused him to relive the last time he'd held anyone that way… watching the light fade from Priscilla's eyes as she gave up her life, so he could live, so he could be there for their daughter. He was allowed a moment of weakness over that, just the one and it was over and passed.
And that was that. No more dwelling on Priscilla… she had to go back behind that wall where her memory lived most of the time. No more thinking about Cait or those green eyes or any of his wayward designs on holding her, no matter how fragile or frightened she looked. He would do his best to never see her again, either in person or in his own mind. He was going to get back to something more important… he had a lot of lost time to make up with Grace and he was going to do just that. And he was going to get them home and he was going to find a way to build a wall around the guilt he felt for ever leaving her. They would be free and together, and even if that's all he ever got to have in the rest of his life, it would be enough. It had to be enough.
