Saturday morning, Lacey blinked herself awake. With a jaw cracking yawn, she reached out blindly to silence the screeching noise that was currently emitting from her alarm clock. She managed to silence the mechanical noise, eyeing the small device with a frown before glancing out the window beyond it. Outside it was starting to flurry, chunks of white snow drifting along with the wind.
Rubbing her face with her hands, she willed herself to sit up. Completing that small victory, she let out another silent yawn and ruffled her bed head lazily. She glanced at her phone, pulling up the weather. It was supposed to stop snowing by night fall with temperatures staying well below freezing for the longest night of the year.
She leaned on her elbows to better see out her window. She watched the swirling pattern of snow for a moment before giving in to nature's increasingly insistent call. She padded across the cold wooden floor, grateful she had managed to keep her socks on while asleep and let herself into the bathroom.
Usually she liked to sleep in on Saturdays but today was the big event up at the Inn. Graham had explained most people got dressed, packed up the car and headed up there to get ready as a town. Some were already helping set up the ball room or helping out in the kitchen while others spent the whole days upstairs socializing and primping for the big night. Since Emma was continuing to be sullen and refusing to attend, Lacey planned on getting ready mostly at home.
This year's Gala was a masquerade theme. Most people had spent the past few weeks discussing their costumes and masks in great detail. Which completely defeated the purpose as Emma had sarcastically albeit correctly pointed out earlier that week.
Emma had been no fun all week, ignoring any attempt to drag her into conversation about the Gala. As nice as everyone in Storybrooke was, Lacey preferred the deadpan sense of humor that Emma wielded like a weapon over the usual pleasantries and small town charm of the other young women their age. Lacey was still privately hoping Graham would be able to convince their co-worker to go to the ball. She had even reserved a room with two beds just in case.
Brushing her teeth, Lacey caught her mirror's reflection, noticing the bags under her eyes. Souvenirs from all her late night researching after completing a full day working at the office. But before she could lament over them, her eye fell on something behind her.
Hanging from the door was a rental dress. It was a gorgeous coral princess cut ball gown with scalloped neck and shoulder straps that looped the upper arm, showcasing the collar bone and shoulders of the lady. It dipped down in boning with golden highlights and as the dress fell in heavy folds of the voluminous skirt, the dress became more and more sunset gold.
She had even ordered a pair of golden heels from an online boutique and purchased some matching costume jewelry as well as a golden mask to perch in her hair during the dancing. A perfect goodbye dress for the meekly sweet Belle Ives.
Lacey lightly touched the dress, stripping off her pajamas as she turned the hot water on in the shower. As far as her journalism career, Lacey had packed it up that week. Her notes were scanned on to her laptop. All hard copies and scribbles burned in the kitchen trashcan, window open just in case the smoke got too bad.
Now, she was just waiting for Reese to call her phone, so she could tell him if there was a story here, no one knew about it. Her last potential lead had fizzled out when the oldest town resident Ms. Stonage had kept her for five hours going on about the history of the town and the minor scandals it had faced putting in a sewer system back in the day.
Founded by S. Teller, blah blah blah, settled by his descendants and keeping a small town community in the face of today's metro lifestyle, blah blah blah. Lacey had very nearly fallen asleep over her tea and biscuits. Her attempt to delve into the mysteries of the town ("But have you heard of all those odd disappearances in the woods? Do you think it was bears? Or- you know, maybe even something worse?") had been met with a serene smile and the question of whether she would like more milk in her tea?
All her time in the record room at the Sheriff's office had proven nothing more interesting. A few wolf related deaths in the early years of the station, a couple bears had eaten a few campers in the early seventies but no town person had disappeared since the early fifties- all cases were out of towers, people who seemed to be drawn to the wooded areas on the winter solstice and who found themselves in very unfortunate spots with the local wildlife.
She had just about convinced herself that Greg's father had been eaten by a bear when she had first noticed the missing Silverton case from the year before.
But when even Graham had brushed it aside, saying if the kid had ever been to Storybrooke it was one thing but that there was no evidence he had never stepped foot in the town. Unconnected.
Lacey was just toweling off her hair, slicking on some gel so she could curl it when a small thought suddenly crystalized in her mind. She let the towel fall to the floor, stepping over it towards the bedroom.
Pulling out her original notebook, buried under her underwear and half-forgotten since she had typed in most of those notes to her computer, she settled down cross legged in her bathrobe on her bed.
She flipped to her original interview with Greg, pulling out a map of the local trails she had picked up from the town's only outpost. She carefully followed the interstate with her finger to the area Greg had mentioned he had been picked up.
The first thing she noticed on the map was that the Inn was on the opposite side of town. The furthest point away inside the city limits. The edge of the woods backed up against some farming land, then some houses and then the main alternate street, followed by the same layout on the other side of town of houses and farms and then the Inn, stuck on the edge of town, high overhead like an afterthought fortress.
From her time at the Inn, she knew it was mostly used for local events. The only time people ever stayed there were now out of town family and friends who came back to visit, wedding parties or the yearly Gala. It was a historic place, not any kind of viable money making operation. Alice and Eddie were the only fulltime staff. Alice mostly cleaned and cooked for the few guests and Eddie did most of the repair work. A few other local family companies came in to help clean, cook, and work when a large group rented out a hall but for the most part- the Inn stood over the town, looking down at the people but removed from them.
But the annual Gala was held on the solstice- an entire town gathered together in the remotest place in town.
Lacey stared at her rough sketches for a few minutes, grabbing a pen and circling the area Greg had been found (Mile Marker 90 according to the local police report) and the Inn which was roughly parallel to Mile Marker 145, the two laying between the two circles.
Something was missing but Lacey couldn't quite grasp it- hadn't Greg said something about locals picking him up the next morning? How could he have gotten so close to the Interstate by wandering deeper into the woods? He would have had to have been turned around…and there was no mentions of any old properties in the wooded area on the map- the gate he had mentioned could be anywhere in the miles and miles of woods that surrounded Storybrooke. And no one she had talked to had mentioned any kind old ruins or property past the city limits.
She began to plot different routes, periodically checking notes on other disappearances, noticing the stretch of highway that led through Storybrooke was littered with odd bends and twists in an otherwise straight highway up the coast-
She nearly knocked her laptop off its precarious perch in surprise when her phone suddenly lit up with a loud beep.
EMMA NOT HOME. SHE WITH YOU?
She frowned at the phone, typing a negative to Graham who responded back right away.
CAN YOU TRY AND CALL HER?
She did but the phone went straight to Emma's blunt voicemail, "I don't understand why you think leaving a message is going to make me call you back any sooner-" She left a message asking Emma to call her or Graham when she noticed the time.
It was already nearly two p.m.
With a muffled curse, she leapt up off the bed, heading towards her closet to get dressed. She had spent over three hours bent over maps and notes and now she was running late to check in. She texted Graham to let him know she was heading up to the Inn and would call him if she heard from Emma before grabbing a pair of jeans. She was careful to store her notes back away as she gathered her night bag.
The Inn had asked everyone to check in before four to get an accurate dinner count. Lacey pulled up to the Inn, just as they lit the front walk up, lanterns and fairy lights twinkling in the darkening evening. Night fell rapidly across the northern sky here in Maine
She lugged her bag out of her car, handing her keys to the valet dressed as coachmen, noticing a few senior boy serial pranksters who waved at her, grinning over the chin strap of their odd uniform.
Saying hello to a few other people she recognized from her usual rounds, she headed to the check in counter. After a brief chat with Alice, who assured her she wasn't the last one to check in; Lacey headed up to her room. It was a madhouse already. She maneuvered the narrow halls nodding hello, dodging kids half dressed as fairies and dragons running in the hall while tugging her overnight bag behind her in the narrow corridor.
Letting herself into her room, she slumped against the door with a heavy sigh. But the infectious energy of the night was catching and she quickly began to get ready. She arranged her usual curls in a low bun and tilted her mask like a tiara into her chestnut hair. She was putting her shoes on when a knock on the door startled her.
Hoping it was Emma, she flung open the door to find Sheriff Graham looking forlorn on the other side, a bow and arrow slung over his shoulder.
"Robin Hood?" She guessed gamely, but he shook his head.
"The Huntsman," he mumbled dejectedly. She stepped back to let him in and he slouched past her, fingers plucking absently at his bow's string.
She took a minute to admire him. He was wearing very attractive tight buff breeches and a black shirt with a leather vest over it. His hair wasn't pushed back as usual, following in curls around his ears and the nape of his neck. Lacey refrained from commenting on the eyeliner he had seemed to put on. It worked for him but she wondered how he knew that. A black Zorro mask dangled limply around his neck, the forgotten icing on the cake.
"You heard from Emma?" He asked, leaning against the old dresser. The rooms were remodeled in the eighties and hadn't been updated much since; Graham's tall lean frame dwarfed the room making her feel slightly claustrophobic.
"No," she replied honestly, checking her phone one more time before slipping it into her hand bag. "I actually thought she was just being dramatic but looks like she meant it."
Music was beginning to swell up from the main hall, curling up into the air. People's doors were closing and opening, footsteps hurrying down the hallway towards the food and drink awaiting them downstairs.
"Damn it," Graham growled. Lacey lifted an eyebrow at him in surprise and he reddened a bit. "Sorry, it's just- this is a town tradition- she should be here, show she wants to be a part of this community."
"Yea, I think everyone in town is here," Lacey replied, slipping on her shoes, careful not to wrinkle her dress. "I even saw old man Richards and I didn't think he ever left his house."
"It's an unwritten law, "Graham shared, scratching the back of his neck. "If you are a part of this town, if you want to be counted, you attend the Gala. Emma not being here is a flat refusal to be accepted, if she's really set on turning her back-"
"Turning her back?" Lacey asked, pausing in strapping on her left pump. "That's a little dramatic, isn't it?"
"Uh- well figuratively speaking," Graham corrected, looking flustered. He straightened and strode to the window, looking out into the darkness. Lacey peered around him, noting that the entire town below them was black. It looked like no lights had been left burning, no one at home. The Inn standing in the wood like a glowing beacon on a hill.
"Whoa, did they close the gates?" Lacey asked, leaning around him. "They must be serious about no drunk drivers, huh?"
"Yea, just so people don't get drunk and try to do something stupid," Graham answered but he avoided her eye. He scratched the back of his neck before finally looking over at her.
'Sorry, Belle," he mumbled abashedly. "I didn't even tell you how beautiful you look."
"I'll forgive you," Lacey grinned up at him. "But only if you escort me into the Gala so I'm not some new girl out all on my own."
"My lady," he replied, bowing. "It would be my honor."
The night passed in a blur of champagne and excessive eating. Lacey often put her hand to her corseted stomach with a grimace of pain as she ignored her own limitations for just one more bite of the strawberry cheesecake or the roasted chestnuts.
Graham was patrolling the hallways, checking to make sure no one was asleep drunk in the stairwells or causing a ruckus on their floor. He apparently got a free room for this service and Alice offered her the same deal if she watched the ballroom while he patrolled.
During the height of the party, Alice sided up to her, dressed in a stunning gray gown that flared out at the waist but showed off her small torso and stately shoulders.
"Enjoying the festivities?" Alice asked. She handed Lacey another flute from the passing waiter, another local teen who was busier watching the girl in front of him than where he was walking.
"This is wonderful," Lacey enthused, gratefully accepting the glass. "I had no idea Jack Kennedy was such a dancer."
"Careful," Alice laughed, watching the man in question spinning a woman around in his arms. "If you dance with him more than twice, he won't leave you alone for the rest of the night. He loves his dancing."
Lacey joined in on the laughter, noticing a few familiar faces laughing like children, dancing merrily to the music playing throughout the hall. The youngsters had all been taken to bed. The young and young at heart still keeping the party alive in the already wee hours of the morning.
"Graham just popped out to the lobby; he mentioned some of the valets from earlier were having a bit too much fun."
Alice nodded, "Happens every year, they volunteer to work mostly for free beers they sneak out of the kitchen but I was young once- I remember how it was to have that first beer on the solstice."
Lacey looked over at the woman, noticing the fine lines and deep laugh marks around Alice's face. Alice caught her looking and grinned at her, "I'm not that old I don't remember my first real Gala, young lady," Alice reprimanded her lightly.
Lacey felt the champagne loosening her tongue and she blurted, "Why is it such a big deal to you all? I mean I think it's wonderful but-"
"You don't understand," Alice finished for her, raising her own glass to her mouth and taking a drink. "Course you don't, dear. You're still an outsider."
Lacey felt a slight tinge of sobriety return as Alice turned her eyes to her, cutting out the laughter and music of the party around them. Lacey noticed Graham reentering the party, head turning as he searched for a face that they both knew wasn't in the crowd.
"But perhaps not for much longer," Alice concluded, mistaking Graham's search for Emma as something else entirely.
"Alice," Lacey started, frowning at the older woman but Alice shook her head, watching as a young man went to open the back door.
"Josh," Alice called out, authority coloring her tone. "Close that door this instance, I doubt Ginnifer wants to catch pneumonia before she goes back to school after the holidays. You know the rules."
The young man and his date blushed nicely, closing the door guiltily and heading back towards the far corner of the dance floor where a few of their friends sat watching with smirks on their faces.
"Every year," Alice sighed, shaking her head as she watched the two retreat. "Honestly, it's not like they don't know better."
"What's wrong with letting the kids out for a bit of air?" Lacey asked, confused and thinking a good breeze would be wonderful right then. Alice turned from her, watching as Graham made his way over.
"It's not about letting them out," Alice said quietly. "It's about letting things in."
Lacey opened her mouth in question but Graham had reached them.
"Come on, Belle," he said, grasping Lacey's hand for the lively jive that had just come on the speakers, "I hear you haven't danced at all tonight."
He pulled her away from Alice who turned to talk to someone else already. Graham ignored her protests, pulling her to him in a swinging motion. She laughed despite herself as she collided into another dancer as he spun her away again.
The dance seemed to pass quickly but as another song started, familiar face after familiar face asked for the next dance. Lacey lost time of the night as she talked and laughed, danced and spun. Slowly as the night wore on, Belle Ives became a member of Storybrooke and Lacey French forgot to care.
Hours later, Lacey was sitting by the large ornate gilded window on the south side of the room, resting her feet. Graham had gone on his last patrols, locking up the front door and checking all fire exits to make sure they were fastened securely but still easily opened in case of emergency.
It was just past two a.m. and the ballroom was empty except for a few youngsters slow dancing and a few older chaperons falling asleep in their chairs.
A couple sneaked towards the stairwell, only to find a sleeping chaperon wearily stand and march them towards the elevator, bent on making sure they got to their respective rooms safely.
Just as the last couple was being whisked off the dance floor by what appeared to be their parents, Graham re-entered, talking with Alice who was gesturing towards the lights. He nodded and Alice waved goodnight at Lacey who waved feebly back across the large hall.
Graham approached her, covering his yawn with the back of his hand.
"Well, that's it. Night's done. What do you say to-"
He stopped short, leaning over her to peer out the window.
"Graham, what are you doing-" Lacey asked, turning to look and stopping short herself.
A figure on horseback was standing just outside the lights from the ballroom beyond the main gate. The horse pawed the earth fitfully while the rider stayed perfectly motionless, their face turned towards the light.
"Who is that? It's not Emma, is it?" Lacey asked. She stood and forced Graham over slightly.
"What would she be doing out there at two in the morning?" Graham breathed, backing up slightly to head towards the closest exit.
The rider noticed. With a sudden movement, the horse was off, rushing along the low gate area on the south lawn towards the woods and away from town.
"What are you doing?" Lacey cried, rushing after Graham as he whipped open the back door. Cold air blew in. It felt refreshing for a moment in the heated room of the hall before the goose bumps started to rise along her arms.
"Go back inside," Graham ordered, rushing towards the stables. The Inn kept a few horses for the families in town but Lacey hadn't ever considered whether either he or Emma could ride.
"But-"she started, rushing after him. She was thankful she had chosen thicker heels when they didn't sink into the lawn, allowing her to keep up with Graham's longer strides.
"Get back inside now!" Graham shouted, flinging open the stable door and startling the horses. One bay towards the front neighed in excitement, pawing at the ground when he recognized Graham.
"Is that your horse?" Lacey asked in amazement, her city girl showing more than she meant. Graham was already jumping up, bareback and urging the horse out of the stall. The horse neighed eagerly again, pulling forward on its stirrups.
"Get inside and lock the door behind me, Belle," Graham shouted. "I'll bring her back. That absolute crazy woman, she knows the dangers of tonight-"
"I don't understand-"Lacey started but he was already off, leaning forward as he rushed towards the south lawn. The horse cleared the low fence as easily, running faster, gaining ground.
"What the hell is going on around here?" Lacey shouted to the empty yard, wrapping her arms around herself. The town was pitch blank beneath them, the echoes of horse hooves fading as Graham disappeared towards the town-
Wait.
He was going towards the town! The other rider had turned into the woods at the main turn- where the hell was he going?
She swung the stable doors shut as best she could, before rushing down to the gate. She could barely see anything in the darkness and the cold was starting to turn her blue when she heard a horse scream in the darkness, an echo like a gunshot following.
"Oh screw this," she breathed, adrenaline flooding her body. Something was going on and she was not going to waste her own chance at figuring out what this town was hiding with its crazy traditions and obviously lovesick Sheriff riding off into the wrong direction.
She climbed up over the gate, barely avoiding falling on her face as the gown tangled about her legs. She pulled it up in bunches, pushing herself forward, feet slapping the ground. She swore slightly as she kept almost slipping due to the clunky heels. She was desperately trying to make it towards the woods as fast as she could, already regretting not going back for a jacket.
The wind was picking up, tossing her mumbled complaints back into her throat. She kept jogging along awkwardly, pushing her legs, holding up her skirt with her hands. The cold froze her ankles and the muscles in her thighs protested the uneven ground.
She couldn't catch her breath. Her lungs were on fire with the cold wind freezing her throat closed. She stopped, wheezing at the forest's edge, already admit defeat and return to the Inn when she saw it.
A horse with no rider stood just ahead on the hill by the forest. It was pawing the ground, tossing its head fitfully.
"Oh well this is just great," she moaned, forcing herself forward towards the rider-less horse. "You'll be the only," she gasped. "The only journalist to ever break a story while wearing a ball gown in the middle of the woods, Lacey girl."
She kept hitting roots and stones, stumbling and falling forward, scrapping her arms up but she finally managed to teeter up to the horse that now stood motionless in the darkness.
The saddle and reins were still in place. Lacey eyed them uncertainty before tentatively grasping it. Just as her fingers closed around the leather another gunshot rang out across the silent night. The horse pulled towards it. Lacey held him back, almost getting herself kicked for her trouble.
"Not without me, you don't," she told it harshly. The horse swung his head, turning and fixing her with its black stare. An odd relaxation spread through her cold limbs and Lacey smiled with a lazy grin. The horse snorted and she nodded in silent agreement before looking about her.
A nearby stump solved her problem. She clambered unladylike on top of the strange horse. Part of her knew she was going to get herself killed but she somehow felt compelled not to be too concerned.
As she grabbed the reins and tried to remember what they said about riding a horse, it took off. The animal galloped straight into the woods, ignoring her startled protest and her feeble slaps and kicks as he plunged ahead with his reluctant rider.
Author's Notes
Once again, sorry for any mistakes, I do not have a beta. I got a beta fish but he unfortunately was no help proofing this chapter and I think I may have misunderstood the purpose of said animal…
Next chapter, a few new faces and a few more steps out of Lacey's comfort zone.