;_;


Killian raised his eyebrows. "You sure you're all right, mate?"

Graham kept his gaze focused on the dartboard. "Fine."

"Wendy seems to think differently. Out of the mouths of babes, and all that." (She had practically shoved him out the door, saying "I'm eleven, I'm perfectly capable of lying in bed and reading a book. Go.")

His friend ignored him, throwing two darts into the board; hitting the deer painted on it both times.

"Nice shot, chief," Sidney called out. Killian glanced over. He hadn't noticed the reporter there. "I bet you twenty bucks you can't do it again."

He chuckled, gaze flicking back to Graham, who, even in his current state, was perfectly capable of playing a good game of darts. He threw another dart, hitting the painted deer between the eyes.

"Next round's on him. Killian?"

He lifted up his glass, tipping it over to the side so the ice clinked. Ruby took it from him. "Rum, please."

The bell jangled as Emma entered the diner, stopping short at the sight of Graham. Ruby beamed.

"Emma! What can I get you?"

"Nothing," she replied stonily, turning to leave the diner. Graham threw a dart, which landed in the doorframe. Killian stood, confused.

"What the hell?" Emma exclaimed, outraged. "You could've hit me!"

"I never miss. You've been avoiding me since last night, when you saw me—"

"Leaving the mayor?" she cut him off, eyes wide with fury. "And yes, that is a euphemism. I'm not avoiding you, Graham, I just have no interest in having this conversation. It's your life – I really don't care."

She left the diner, Graham quick on her heels. Killian stared at the closed door for several seconds, before cursing and pulling on his jacket. He knew that Graham had been in some sort of relationship with Regina – had expressed his less than approving opinion more than once – but had accepted that it was none of his business.

"If I read one word of this in the paper tomorrow—"

"My lips are sealed," said Sidney quickly. "I have more than just you to worry about."

Killian nodded. "Can't get fired, now can we? I'm glad we understand each other, Glass."

He left the diner, glancing around to find his friends. He spotted them; heard a few words of their argument, before Graham surged forward, kissing Emma. Killian took an unconscious step backwards, felt his jaw clench, and turned in the other direction to walk home.


Wendy was already in the kitchen when he arrived down the stairs the next morning. She had brewed coffee and was buttering bread for her lunch.

"How did it go last night?" she asked.

"Fine," he replied, a little more shortly than he had intended, taking a mug from the cupboard.

He couldn't see her, but he was sure that Wendy was sending him an admonishing look – could feel it on the back of his head. "How's Graham?"

Killian sighed, turning to lean against the worktop. He felt whatever rage he still had drain away at the look of concern on his daughter's face. Graham was still his friend; and he was obviously in a bad way. He hadn't been thinking straight. Killian sighed, loosening his iron grip on the coffee cup. It wasn't as if he had any right or reason to be jealous.

"Not good," he answered finally, pouring himself a mug of coffee. "But we're going to fix him."

"Good," Wendy smiled, placing her sandwiches into her lunchbox. "Can we go to Granny's for breakfast? We still have time."

The rage that he had felt was replaced with guilt. He'd overslept, thinking only of himself, and not the girl he'd promised to care for and protect. He smiled at her. "Sure."


"Hey Graham," she smiled, opening the door. "Papa's not here right now."

"Actually, I'm here to see you."

She frowned, but took a step back, allowing the sheriff to enter the house. "What's wrong?"

"You're friends with Henry, right?" asked Graham, sitting on the sofa. He didn't look very well, but she had known that already, before she'd even seen him.

"I suppose so. Why?"

"So … you know about the book, and the curse?"

Cautiously, she sat in the armchair. "You believe in that?"

"Honestly, I don't know what to believe anymore. I've been having these … flashbacks. I saw a wolf. And – and Mary Margaret with long hair."

"When did they start?"

"When I kissed Emma."

She shrank back. "You kissed Emma?"

He nodded, at least not looking as if he were pleased with himself, at any rate.

"So you knew Snow White ..." Wendy murmured, thoughtful. "I think we'll have to go see Henry. He has the book." She stood, heading to the hallway to pick up the phone. She waited with bated breath as it rang. It wasn't that she was scared of Regina – okay, she was scared of Regina – but she wasn't sure what she would say. Thankfully, it was Henry who answered.

"Hey."

"Wendy?" she could hear the frown in his voice. "What's wrong?"

"I need your help," she replied, glancing over her shoulder to where Graham was still sitting on the sofa. "Well, me and Graham. He's remembering who he was."

"That's great!" Henry exclaimed. "My mom's not here right now; you can come over."

"Let's go," she called to Graham, scribbling a note for Killian to find when he returned.


"When did your flashes begin?" Henry inquired, as Wendy and Graham sat on either side of him, and he flipped through Once Upon a Time.

"Right after I kissed Emma."

"You kissed my mom?" Henry frowned, before recovering. "What did you see?"

"A wolf. I saw that I had a knife in my hand and I was with Mary Margaret."

"Were you going to hurt her?" asked Wendy, leaning across to look at the book.

"Yes! How do you know that?"

Wendy shrugged. "Mary Margaret is Snow White."

"Which makes you the Huntsman."

"So, you really think that I could be another person."

"Makes total sense," Henry smiled. "You were raised by wolves – that's why you keep seeing one. It's your friend – your guide. It's trying to help you."

"I'm remembering this because I kissed your mother? H-how is that possible?"

"Well, you two do have a special connection. She owes you her life."

"Why?"

"Snow White's her mother and you spared her. If you hadn't, my mom wouldn't have been born."

"Wh-what happened after I spared Snow White?"

Wendy grimaced. "The queen took your heart."

"She ripped it out," Henry added. "It's kind of her thing. She never wanted you to be able to feel again."

"Let me see that book."

Henry obliged, handing the book to the sheriff. He flicked through the pages, stopping at an illustration of the Evil Queen in front of her vault. "What's that? I saw that, too. The wolf was howling at it."

"That's her vault," Wendy told him. "It's where she keeps her hearts. Yours is probably in there too."

"The wolf wants me to find it," said Graham, leaving the book on the bed. "Thank you both."

He left, rushing out of the room. Wendy, exchanging a look with Henry, followed.

"Hey," Emma greeted, at the sight of Graham. "Hear you're having a rough day."

"Who says?"

"Pretty much everyone. I think maybe you need to go home and get some rest."

"I'm fine."

She shook her head. "No, Graham, you're not fine. You just went to see a ten year old for help." Wendy emerged from the house. "… And an eleven year old. Wendy, what are you doing here? Where's your dad?"

"He wasn't at home when Graham came looking for help. I left him a note."

Emma sighed, fishing out her cell phone. "Wait here with Henry; I'll call him. Graham, you need to go home and get some rest." She dialled Killian's number, only for him to appear, running towards them. "Great."

"Hey Papa," Wendy beamed at him. He shot her a look. He didn't appear to be mad, more concerned about Graham.

"It's my heart," said Graham, glancing around at them all, almost imploringly. "I need to find it."

"And how exactly are you planning to do that?" asked Killian.

"I just need to follow the wolf."

"What?" Emma frowned. "What wolf?"

"From my dreams. It's going to help me find my heart."

"I'm sorry. I thought we were talking in a metaphor here. You really think you don't have a heart?"

"It's the only thing that makes any sense. It's the only thing that explains why I don't feel anything."

Killian moved to stand beside Wendy, giving the other two some space.

"Listen to me, Graham. You have a heart. I can prove it." She took a step forward, placing a hand on his chest. "See? It's beating. It's real."

Graham shook his head, moving to take a step back. Emma took his hand, placing it where hers had been. "Feel that? That is your heart."

"No. It's the curse."

"You can't really believe that's true."

"Guys," said Wendy, suddenly.

"What?"

She pointed to where a wolf stood. It had to be the one Graham had described – with one blood-red eyes, and the other black. It turned, running away.

"Stay here," Killian ordered. She opened her mouth to say something, but shut it again, nodding. Killian ran after the other two, as Wendy returned to the house.

"Graham!" Emma called, as the three of them reached the graveyard.

"Graham, mate, be careful."

"He's my friend," he assured them. "He won't hurt us."

The wolf stopped, howling, before running farther into the graveyard.

"We lost it," Killian said, stopping to get back his breath. But Graham had stopped in front of the crypt.

"What is it?" asked Emma.

"It's my heart. It's in there," he said, still glancing up. He pulled out a flashlight. "I have to look in there."

"Oh, no!" Emma rushed after him. "Stop, stop."

"I have to get in there, please—"

"Graham, come on! You really think that your heart is in there?"

He nodded, and her expression softened. Killian looked away.

"Okay, let's find out. Killian? You coming with?"

"I'll stay here," he replied, still not looking around. "Keep watch."

Emma nodded, trying to open the doors to the crypt, only to find that they were locked. "Come on!" she exclaimed in frustration. She kicked them open, and she and Graham went in.

"It's got to be in here," said Graham, determination in his voice as he scanned the walls of the crypt. "There's got to be a hidden door. A lever. Something." He moved one of the urns, but nothing happened.

"Graham. Hey. Graham, there's nothing in here."

"There has to be," he replied, a note of desperation in his voice. "If there isn't, then—"

"It's okay," she soothed. "It's going to be okay."

"Madam Mayor," said Killian, very loudly. "Fancy seeing you here."

Regina regarded him coldly. "What are you doing here, Jones?"

"I might ask you the same."

"I'm bringing flowers to my father's grave. Like I do every Wednesday." She looked around, seeing Emma and Graham exiting the crypt. "And what do you think you're doing?"

"Don't blame her," said Graham quickly. "Or Killian. It's my fault. I wanted to look in there."

"Really?" Regina asked, the best look of curious concern she could muster on her face. "Why? What were you looking for?"

"Nothing. It was, uh … it was nothing."

"You don't look well, dear. Let's take you home," said Regina, grabbing one of Graham's arms and attempting to drag him with her. Killian raised his eyebrows at Emma, as Graham broke free.

"Regina, I … I don't want to go home. Not with you."

The fake concern was gone. "Oh? But you'll go with her."

"And I'm just decoration, am I?"

Emma shot a look at him, before facing Regina. "Hey. This is between you two – leave me out of it."

"She's right – it's between us." He looked determined, and Killian was suddenly proud of his friend. "And things have to change."

"And I wonder why that is all of a sudden."

"It has nothing to do with her. You know, I've realized that I don't feel anything, Regina. And I know now it's not me – it's you."

"So, you're leaving me for her?"

Graham shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "I'm leaving you for me."

"Graham, you're not thinking straight."

Killian almost snorted. The 'concern' had returned.

"Actually, for the first time, I am. I'd rather have nothing than settle for less. Nothing? Is better than what we have. I need to feel something, Regina, and the only way to do that is to give myself a chance."

"Graham—"

"I'm sorry. It's over."

"I don't know what I ever did to you, Miss Swan, to deserve this. To have you keep coming after everything I hold dear."

"I told you – it's not her."

"None of this happened until she got here."

"I'm sorry. Did you ever stop to think that maybe the problem isn't with me, but with you?"

"Excuse me?" Regina asked incredulously.

"Henry came and found me. Graham kissed me. Both were miserable. Maybe, Madam Mayor, you need to take a good hard look in the mirror and ask yourself why that is. Why is everyone running away from you?"

Killian took a step forward just as Regina punched Emma in the face. She fell into Graham.

"Regina!" he exclaimed. Killian reached them.

But Emma didn't need their help, recovering from the attack and punching Regina back. She grabbed the mayor, pushing her against the side of the crypt.

"Stop! Stop! Stop!" Graham exclaimed. Killian grabbed Emma's arms, pulling her away from Regina.

"Not worth it," she spat, turning to walk away. Killian followed.

"Graham."

Graham ignored her, following the other two.

"Are you okay?" Killian asked, as he caught up with them.

Graham nodded. "For the first time in a long while, actually. Emma?"

"It's just a scratch."

They walked to the station, where Graham took down the first aid kit, holding an ice pack against Emma's forehead. Killian leaned against the opposite desk, gaze trained on the floor.

"I'm sorry," Graham apologised. "I don't know what came over me. I kind of lost my mind."

"It's okay," Emma replied, voice soft. "You were tired and feverish … and heartbroken."

"I don't know why I let myself get caught up with her."

"Because it was easy," she said, her tone making it clear that she was speaking from experience. "And safe. Not feeling anything's an attractive option when what you feel sucks."

"I'm gonna … go get Wendy," Killian spoke up. He glanced at his friends, allowing himself the smallest of smiles. "I think you two will be happy together."

Before either of them could say anything, he left. He leaned against the wall of the Sheriff's Station, exhaling in a sigh. Jealousy was an almost-forgotten emotion, and an eye-opener, at that. But there was happiness, too, for his friend. Graham had freed himself of an unhealthy relationship, and already appeared happier.

Things were getting better.


"What do you think will happen?" asked Wendy, sipping the hot chocolate that Henry had made for the both of them. They sat on the sofa, waiting for someone to return and tell them what had happened.

"If Graham's remembering, then the curse is weakening," Henry smiled, glancing down at the book that still sat on his lap. "And that's down to Emma being here."

Wendy nodded. She'd known that much. "You think other people might start to remember? Like me? Or papa?"

"I don't know …" he murmured, expression thoughtful. "Maybe they have to kiss my mom." He wrinkled his nose. "We could set up a kissing booth?"

She laughed. "I don't think Emma would like that."

"No, she wouldn't."

The front door opened. They stood, as Killian entered the room. Wendy smiled at him, but it melted away when she saw the expression on his face, the tears that had dried on his cheeks.

"What happened?"

"Graham," he said, voice choked. "He's dead."


The POVs are kinda all over the place; really sorry about that.

There will be a funeral next chapter, because I felt that Graham deserved one on the show. But, after that, things should get a little happier.