Chapter 2

In the dim beam of the bustling headlights and passing street lamps, he can see her. He watches from the corner of his eye as she pulls absentmindedly on a loose strand of hair, gaze focused on the distant buildings beyond the window. Eyes glassy.

It's her. She is here, he repeated over and over in his head.

He could hardly comprehend that she was sitting there before him, cheeks flushed, eyes piercing and very much alive. Merely hours before her skin had been translucent and her eyes had held the unmistakable stillness that could only mean one unimaginable thing. Dare he even think the words? He felt sick when he thought of the dismembered head he had found on his doorstep.

Of course the image glued so firmly to his mind hadn't actually been the Snow that he had come to know, a minor relief in his continued list of worries, but nothing could shake the image of her decapitated head from within the confines of his mind.

The part that haunted him the most, were the eyes. The beautiful crystal blue eyes who once held the fury inside her soul, but also the sadness and loneliness. They were empty, every ounce of life ceased and nothing but a hollow void remained. He swallowed trying to ban the image out of his head.

He found himself taking time out of the day to constantly throw glances at her, exchange a few meager words, anything for confirmation that she was breathing, alive, and would continue to stay on this side of the rubbed his temples.

The silence was heavy and he could feel the uneasiness in the air. They were on their way to Holly, ready to inform her of her poor sisters fate. He never knew her sister, never even seen her, still he couldn't help but feel upset about her death. Deep down he knew that the only reason for that was that she was glamoured to look like Snow when he had found her.

She is here, right at my side, he reassured himself once more.

It still felt as though this was all some twisted dream his mind had conjured up in order to cope with the devastation he had previously been going through...perhaps it was, and he would wake up soon to find that her scent had vanished from the world completely.

Panic rose in him.

Wait, this is real right? She is real… He tried to calm himself. He kept staring at her, and slowly lifted his hand to touch her, see if she would vanish if he tried to take a hold of her, but he quickly placed his hand on his leg again.

He closed his eyes for a few seconds and felt her gaze on him.

I have to speak to her, i can't take this fucking silence anymore.

He was about to open his eyes when he heard her say, "Bigby? Is um, something the matter?" she smoothed the front of her skirt, pulling her gaze away from the window to face towards him. Her expression was unreadable though there was a feint gleam of concern in her eyes.

He clenched his fists. He had to make sure it was real, that she was real. It weighed down his conscience, and his heart was burning, heavy and sore.

He scratched he back of his head, unsure how to begin "Are you...uhm feeling okay Snow?" he replied carefully, ignoring her question.

She seemed to contemplate his response, brow furrowed and eyes returning to the pane of the window. „Of course I am," she answered pointedly. "Why do you ask?" Her tone was on the brink of iciness, but she didn't seem to care. She had never been one for confrontation and this was no exception.

He should have known that it wouldn't be this easy. But he had to know if she was feeling alright. She couldn't just brush this off as nothing. He needed to know, for her sake, as well as his own.

He sighed, his mind racing. Bigby unconsciously shifted closer to her, his hands gripping the edge of the rear bench seat.

"I just mean...how do you deal with it? It sure must be crazy to see your own head…like that." he tried to sound nonchalant.

He didn't want to let her know how much he was obsessing over the whole incident. He had to urge to grab her, bury her head in his chest and breathe in the comforting smell of her hair.

God, I need a drink. He was exhausted. His mind was exhausted with all the new unprocessed turns this file took, his body was exhausted from the lack of sleep and the physical fights he had gotten himself into. And his heart was exhausted. Exhausted from the pain he felt at losing her, and the lifelong hiding about the true nature of his feeling for her.

I'm not yours to lose, her harsh words from before echoed in his head.

How can you say something like that…you're all i have, he thought dejected.

She furrowed her brow at his callous observation, her grim expression cast into shifting shadows under the passing lights. It made her look otherworldly. "I suppose that's one way to put it," she answered tersely. "I um, didn't have much time to let it settle in." She turned away, appearing eager to drop the topic.

He continued staring, unable to take his eyes from her, wanting to memorize every part of her. And once again he was captivated by her beauty. The way the light of Fabletowns streets hit her made her exquisite and delicate features glow. She often reminded him of the sun, beaming down on him and making every living cell in his soul burn. The passion and fierce protectiveness were eating him up, making him a mere puppet who was at her command. But he couldn't resist her; he was like a moth drawn to a flame. And now, he burned.

He averted his gaze from her pristine form to catch a glimpse of the moon, whose light was engulfing all of Fabletown in its mysteriousness.

Bigby furrowed his brows; his mind was once again plagued by his never-ceasing doubt of Snows existence.

He had seen her dead and in that moment his life had ended too. He closed his eyes for a few seconds; the stinging pain of his unshed tears was hurting him.

He remembered the conversation with Detective Brannigan and how much he had to restrain himself from destroying everything and everyone that stood in his way. He wanted everyone to feel the pain he was feeling as his hopes were shattered.

He had never felt so cold and alone before. He felt like he was drowning, trying to breathe for air, but he couldn't swim to the top, nobody was the to pull him up. An aching emptiness had filled him, making him feel like he would implode, but no. Here he was. Still more dead than alive.

When did I become like this? There once was a time where all he cared for was himself and he had been contented. But then she came into his life, with a drawn blade and in shackles. The intense, fiery determination of her glare drew him under the spell of her divine beauty.

His head turned to her once more, and his mouth twisted into a wistful smile. No matter how many moments he shared with her and no matter how close he came, he would never truly reach her. As she sat there next to him, illuminated by the moonlight only, he realized that she would never be his, whether this whole scenario had been a dream or not.

Snow would never be his to lose. He sighed as a new wave of pain washed over his heart.

Bigby tentatively lifted his hand and slowly placed it on Snows elbow. Her eyes caught his with an unreadable expression. She bit her lip, contemplating to speak but she turned her head slowly towards the window again.

Bigby closed his eyes, fearing that when he would open them, he would find her gone, his hand merely grasping through air. He needed this; he needed to know she was real.

A cold but soft hand placed itself on top of his own. He kept his eyes closed as a peaceful smile came across his face and neither of them said something. The moonlight flooding the cab went unnoticed by him.

He held onto her as his mind cleared itself from all fears and worries for this short moment.

He didn't care anymore if this was a dream or not, for he would rather continue to live in an illusion of her being at his side, than to wake up and find out that she had ceased to exist, which meant his life had ended.

Plot - by Asma

Bigby - by Asma

Snow - by Taylor

See you next time lovelies 3