Chapter 7
Emma felt as though she was spending far too much time out drinking, either at the Rabbit Hole or at Granny's. However, with Mary-Margaret's new relationship with David Nolan came time alone in the apartment. Emma was good at being alone. She was used to it. Except, now that she didn't have to be, now that she had Mary-Margaret, there was something lonely about an empty apartment.
So when Mary-Margaret announced she was going on a second date with David, only a day after the first, Emma resigned herself to another night out. But not at the Rabbit Hole. As much as she wanted to, because Jones would likely be there, and that was a thought she was going to ignore, she couldn't go and have another several glasses of rum. Not after doing exactly that the day before.
One glass of whiskey at Granny's, a drink that always made her slightly lethargic, and then she'd go to bed.
After last night with Jones, and her early morning walk with Henry to Storybrooke Elementary, an early night would be a nice indulgence. Maybe she could even have a bubble bath and read a book, a luxury she hadn't treated herself to in what felt like years.
When she walked into the diner, the first thing she saw was Graham, his back to her as he focused on the dart board. She halted in place, not sure what to do. She'd spent the day avoiding him, unsure what she could say after their encounter the previous night, and Emma was terrified that she'd left it so long that it looked like more than what it was.
Because really, he could sleep with whoever he wanted as long as he didn't make up excuses to abandon Emma at the station all day.
Unfortunately, every single place in Storybrooke seemed to have a bell, and Emma's entrance had triggered it, and she simply stood there as Graham turned to look at her.
She didn't need this now and she had whiskey in the apartment.
She spun on her heel and made to leave, but a dart flew past her cheek, burying itself in the wooden frame of the door and vibrating furiously. "What the hell?" she spat, twisting to glare at the sheriff. "You could have hit me."
"You know I never miss." Graham reminded her, placing his empty glass down on Ruby's tray, the waitress hovering next to him. "You've been avoiding me since last night, when you saw me-"
"Leaving the mayor?" Emma interrupted with a harsh chuckle. "And yes, that is a euphemism. I'm not avoiding you, Graham. I just have no interest in having this conversation."
She didn't give him an opportunity to respond, leaving the diner and slamming the door before Graham had the chance to make more of a scene in front of the other customers. She only got a few paces down the street, back towards the apartment, when she felt Graham's hand close around her wrist, pulling her to a halt.
"What the hell?" she asked again, tugging her hand back angrily. "Look, Graham, please. I really don't care."
"If you don't care, why are you so upset?" he questioned, and he looked drunk, desperate, and Emma didn't know what response he expected.
"I'm upset because you lied to me." she answered bluntly. "Because of all the times where you were mysteriously not at work and you could never give a reason. Because you thought you needed to lie and tell me you were working at the animal shelter as though we weren't adults who could handle the truth. What? Did you think I'd be mad because you're with Regina? I'm not petty. I might not like her but it's not going to change what I think about you. Not the way all the lying did."
Graham swallowed and stepped back, giving her a searching look as though he doubted her response. Emma had meant every word, and she wanted him to know that. She wanted him to know that she wasn't jealous, not like he had implied. And yes, maybe she had danced with the idea of being with him, but that was because a relationship with him would never mean enough to really devastate her when it fell apart.
She didn't know when she'd given up on that idea, but she didn't want anything more with Graham.
"I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to know." He admitted, tangling his fingers together and fidgeting awkwardly. "I didn't want anyone to know. You don't know what it's like with her. I don't feel anything. Can you understand that?"
Emma sighed, feeling her annoyance drain away when she saw the look of confusion and despair on the Sheriff's face. "Yeah, I understand bad relationships." she said with a sigh. "And maybe it's not my place, but if it's really that bad, if you really feel nothing, then leave her."
Graham shook his head and then inched closer to Emma. "Look, maybe I should have told you back when you took the job. I know you and Regina have issues. And, I just… well, I was worried you would look at me the way you're looking at me now."
"Why do you care how I look at you?" she asked warily, glancing cautiously around the street to see who else might be privy to this conversation.
There were a few people strolling along the street, and Emma could see a few silhouettes outside Mr Gold's pawnbroker's, but she was too far away to make out any features. From the height difference, she guessed that it was Jones and Lacey, and the way the third person was wrapped around Lacey, she figured it might be Keith.
"Because," Graham's one word drew her attention back to him, Emma meeting his gaze with a frown.
"What?"
The Sheriff didn't answer, surging forward and cupping Emma's face, his lips on hers. It wasn't right, she didn't want it, so she shoved at him, kneeing him in the crotch so that he was forced to stumble backwards, groaning in pain.
"What the hell was that?" she snarled.
Graham looked dazed, still wincing when he straightened up. "Did you see that?"
"How much have you been drinking?" she asked, taking a couple of steps away from him as a precaution. "That was way over the line."
"Sorry, I just-"
"What?" Emma interrupted. "Just what?"
"I need to feel something." Graham cried, reaching out for Emma as though looking for comfort, but Emma was done, shoving his hand away before he could make contact.
"Listen to me, Graham." She said sternly, trying to be sympathetic through her annoyance. "You're drunk and full of regret. I get it. Whatever it is you're looking for, I'm sorry, but you're not getting it with me. Go home and sleep it off. We can talk tomorrow."
Graham stood still, but Emma walked away, crossing the street to get away from him, and finding herself hoping that Jones hadn't seen.
Emma had managed to sleep, but had woken with the sunrise, Graham's words to her constantly repeating in her mind.
She didn't know what to do. She had let him in, allowed him to know her more than she would usually allow, and she had trusted him. He had been her friend.
And now he had kissed her, had tried to feel something with her, and Emma had no idea how to fix anything because she didn't want to lose his friendship, didn't want to hurt him, but she couldn't let him think there was anything more to their relationship.
Maybe, last night, she had made it clear enough.
She wandered downstairs once it was light, wishing that she was still curled up under her blanket, still asleep, because with Regina taking Henry to school today, there was no reason for her to be up so early.
There was a bouquet of flowers sat on the table. Emma didn't know what type they were, but they were white and pretty and clearly an apology for something. Curiously, she reached for them, lifting them to see a small handwritten note underneath.
Putting the flowers to the side, she gave in to her curiosity and picked up the torn paper, her eyebrows rising in surprise when she read the message.
Thank you for a wonderful night. I'm sorry I had to leave before you woke up, but I have an interview at the animal shelter.
Hope you like the flowers,
David
"Before you woke up?" Emma said out loud, amusement clear in her voice. "Was David here last night?"
"Emma!" protested Mary-Margaret, hurrying out from her room, face red with embarrassment. "That note wasn't for you."
"It also wasn't well hidden." Emma pointed out, passing the paper to Mary-Margaret and watching fondly as the teacher cradled the note to her chest, as though it was the most precious thing in the whole apartment. "You guys were quiet. I had no idea."
"Yes, well," stammered Mary-Margaret, finally placing the note back on the counter and busying herself with sorting out the flowers. "We didn't want to wake you."
"And I'm very thankful for that." Emma said, noticing how Mary-Margaret was taking just a bit too long with the flowers. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine." Mary-Margaret said unconvincingly, and then she shrugged, the flowers now beautifully arranged in a vase, and took a seat next to Emma. "I am. I just can't help wondering if maybe it was too soon. I mean, he only chose me a couple of days ago. He's still married to Kathryn and there's still a chance that he could remember and leave."
Emma sighed, reaching out to stop Mary-Margaret's fidgeting. "But for now, he wants you." she reminded, hoping that it would comfort her friend. "Besides, it was good, right? And he bought you flowers."
"He did buy me flowers." Mary-Margaret agreed, pulling the vase in front of her and inhaling the sweet smell of the blossoms. "And yes, it was good. More than good. It's been a while for me. For both of us. I had forgotten how wonderful it could be. Or maybe, it's just wonderful with him. And you're judging me, aren't you?"
"Not at all!" Emma insisted, hoping that Mary-Margaret would stop her nervous blabbering and foot-tapping. "Really. You went on a couple of dates with a guy and then you slept with him. There's nothing wrong with what you did. Really. Besides, one-nighters are as far as I ever go, so I'm in no place to judge."
"Well, yeah, but that's because you're-" Mary-Margaret trailed off, standing from the stool and starting to get ready for school, as though she hadn't just started a comment that Emma desperately wanted her to finish.
"Because I'm what?"
"Never mind." Mary-Margaret mumbled, not even looking at Emma as she donned a beret and a thick woollen scarf.
"Yeah?" Emma asked, spinning on the stool to fix Mary-Margaret with an angry look. "Tell me. What do I do?"
"You're just protecting yourself." Mary-Margaret explained. "With that wall you put up."
"Just because I don't get emotional over men-" Emma started, faltering when she saw Mary-Margaret's doubtful look, the woman's eyebrows raised and her arms folded. For a second, Emma honestly felt like she was talking to her teacher - or her mother - and Emma had to look away, glancing down at the floor. "Look, there's nothing wrong with being cautious."
"Oh, true." Mary-Margaret sighed. "True. But, Emma, that wall of yours? It may keep out pain, but it also may keep out love."
Emma swallowed, unsure what to say in response, watching as the teacher left the apartment.
Maybe she did have a wall, but she hadn't always. She'd built it up after years of letting people in and being let down, and that was something Mary-Margaret didn't understand.
Mary-Margaret had been on a few failed dates before finding David Nolan, and maybe that relationship was new, but there was something between them. Emma had never been drawn to someone the way they were drawn to each other.
She'd only been used and abandoned and hurt. She'd rather keep out love than suffer through that same pain again.
Emma had alphabetized the files and made several attempts at a new high score on minesweeper by the time of her lunchbreak. At times like this, she had to admit that Henry's idea of a cursed town was slightly appealing, if only to make her hours at work more interesting and involved.
There wasn't even enough paperwork to last much longer than a few hours, and since her first day as deputy, there hadn't even been a single arrest.
Graham hadn't even shown up for work. Perhaps he was hung-over, which Emma wouldn't be surprised at after the previous evening, or perhaps he was simply avoiding her, but either way, she wasn't going to sit around and starve at the station, especially when she assumed the Sheriff was spending his time off with Regina.
She forwarded all calls to her phone, just in case, then she left the building, making sure to lock the main door.
She really wanted a grilled cheese.
And she wanted a break from reading Leroy and Lacey's names and their various crimes.
Perhaps it was her talk with Mary-Margaret that led to her ordering two grilled cheeses and one side of onion rings and then taking them down the road with the intention of spending her hour off with Killian Jones.
Because why not? If Mary-Margaret could take a chance with David Nolan and have it work out the way it did, maybe there was still hope for Emma.
Not that she was intending on taking a chance with Jones, but she didn't want to have lunch by herself.
She paused outside the shop, because past the 'Open' sign and the unclosed blinds, she could see Jones. He wasn't alone, Regina was on the other side of the counter, and the two of them were clearly involved in a conversation.
She knew she shouldn't eavesdrop, but at the same time, she wanted, desperately, to know what they were talking about. She pushed the door open slightly, very careful not to ring the small bell she knew was located just beside the door, and then she listened.
"I'm still waiting on an explanation as to why you let David Nolan walk out of here without the windmill." Regina snarled, but Jones only chuckled in response, absently turning the sails of the miniature windmill he had beside him on the counter. "Don't you know what will happen if he doesn't remember?"
"I've found, Regina, that I don't really care." Jones said with a shrug. "As for my explanation, how many times do I have to repeat it? I was unaware that the windmill may have helped with Dave's memories. All I knew was that he was lost and needed directions."
"Directions to her." Regina hissed, and Emma was surprised by how unruffled Jones looked in the face of the mayor's temper. "I have done you so many favours and you mess this up?"
"Trust me, my dear, you have done me no favours." Jones replied, his eyes narrow and his entire expression dark. "We may have compromised on a few important things, but you have never done a single thing to benefit me."
"Trust me. If David Nolan remembers anything other than his life with Kathryn, how soon do you think things will start to fall apart?" Regina said, leaning across the counter and reaching out to stop Jones from toying with the windmill. "How soon do you think he will remember? And who do you think will face the consequences when he does? Because I can assure you that it won't be me."
She'd listened too long. The take-out was cooling in her hands, and she didn't have a long enough lunch-break to waste time listening to Regina and Jones.
So she pushed the door fully open and stepped inside, Regina twisting to look at her the second the bell began to ring.
"Swan?" Jones asked, and Emma grinned at him. "What a nice surprise."
"I thought I'd bring you lunch." Emma admitted nervously, holding up the paper bag with the Granny's logo printed on it. "If you're not busy, that is."
"I'm not." Jones said smoothly, pushing the windmill to the side so that there was room on the counter and appearing to completely disregard Regina's presence.
Apparently, Regina wasn't going to stand for that. "Our tax dollars hard at work, I see." she drawled, purposefully knocking a few books off the counter as she strode towards Emma.
"I'm on my lunch break." Emma told her with a roll of her eyes. "I'm not meant to be at work. Unlike Graham, who I assumed was taking a sick day. With you."
"Oh, so you're aware of us?" Regina asked, a smug smile spreading across her face. "Good. I'm also aware of your relationship with him."
There was a clatter, and Emma looked away from Regina to see Jones ducking behind the counter, as though he'd dropped something. "Look, I don't have a relationship with him. Not the relationship you seem to think I have, anyway."
"Oh?" Regina asked, looking even more pleased with herself as she glanced from Emma to the pawnbroker. "So, nothing's ever happened between you two? You forget, Miss Swan, I have eyes everywhere."
Emma swallowed, because she hated that Regina was doing this now. She didn't want Jones to know about Graham's drunken actions the night before, even though she refused to understand why. "Nothing that meant anything."
"Well, of course not." Regina stated. "Because you're incapable of feeling anything for anyone. There's a reason you're alone, isn't there?"
"Regina, that's enough." Jones was standing straight again, fury written all over his expression, and Emma gaped at him, because she didn't know how to respond to his words. "You're out of line."
Regina cackled, actually cackled, once again looking between Emma and Jones as though she was staring at one of the funniest things she'd seen in a while. When she met Emma's gaze, however, her face hardened. "Stay away from Graham." she ordered. "You may think you're doing nothing, but you're putting thoughts in his head. Thoughts that are not in his best interest. You are leading him on a path to self-destruction. Stay away."
Regina pushed past Emma as she left the shop, knocking Emma into a display of various antique toy robots, the door slamming shut behind her.
"Self-destruction?" Emma repeated bemusedly as she righted herself, looking up and swallowing when she realised Jones had moved so he was standing just in front of her. "What is she on?"
"I don't believe anyone will ever discover the answer to that." Jones answered quietly, reaching out to steady her, his hand warm on her shoulder, and then taking the paper bag from her. "Now, how about we forget all of that unpleasantness and have that lunch you mentioned?"
"Oh, right." Emma said, nervous now that they were alone and they were having lunch. And why had this been a good idea? "Yeah, I just figured you might be free and I didn't want to eat by myself and I don't even know if you like grilled cheese so maybe I'll just take that and go back to the station."
"I like grilled cheese." Jones said simply, moving to sit on the counter and then gesturing for Emma to join him. "And I'm always free for you, love."
Emma smiled anxiously at him, but decided not to run. She couldn't, not now that he was laying the food out on the counter and picking at the onion rings as though this lunch had been planned.
So she just sat next to him and started on her own sandwich without a word.
"I do feel like I should apologise for Regina." Jones said after a few minutes of comfortable silence. "But I also have a feeling that wouldn't do any good."
"You're right about that." Emma grumbled, twisting to give him a searching look because he seemed to just know exactly what to say. "Where does she get off, thinking it's her business to tell me about the way I live my life?"
"She likes control." Jones explained. "Not that that's any reason for her behaviour. I assume there may be some jealousy there as well."
"Jealousy?"
I was witness to your dalliance with the Sheriff last night." Jones admitted quietly, and Emma was expecting him to scratch behind his ear, but it didn't stop it being any less endearing. "And I have long been aware of Graham's affair with the mayor. I doubt Regina likes the threat to her relationship."
"The threat?" Emma repeated, rolling her eyes. "There is no threat. He was drunk, he kissed me and I pushed him away. There's nothing more to it."
"Glad to hear it." Jones said, and it sounded like nothing more than offhand comment, but the sincerity in his eyes was disarming and Emma suddenly found her grilled cheese especially interesting to look at.
"So…" she started stiltedly, watching out of the corner of her eye for him to look away, and only facing him again once he had. "I may have eavesdropped slightly before letting you guys know I was here. What's with the windmill?"
Jones chuckled. "You might make a decent pirate, Swan." he said, and she blinked at him, because surely he wasn't praising her for listening in. "The short answer, which is the only answer I can give you, is that the windmill previously belonged to David and Kathryn. Regina was hoping that if I forced Dave to buy the thing, he'd remember his life before."
"But you didn't give it to him?"
"I felt no need to force those memories upon him." Jones explained with a shrug. "If he returns to my shop and chooses to purchase the object then I will have no problem with giving it to him. But he seems happy with what he knows now, and who am I to take that from him?"
"You don't think that if you can help him remember, you should?" Emma asked, reaching to take the last onion ring. "Regardless of how happy he seems now?"
Jones didn't answer immediately, stretching his hand out to spin the arms of the windmill again, leaving greasy fingerprints on the wood. "Perhaps I am helping him. Perhaps I know that his memories, of his life with Kathryn, are not memories of a happy life and not his chance of obtaining a happy ending."
"You know?"
Jones inhaled deeply and then stood, beginning to clear up the wrappers from their lunch. "Perhaps." he said, and Emma watched him move around the shop as he cleaned. "Perhaps not."
Emma sighed, leaning her chin on her hand and simply observed him for a few minutes, an unfamiliar calm filling her as she watched the man wipe down the counter and then carry the windmill through to the backroom.
There was something pleasant about being with him.
Then she caught sight of the clock and realised her hour with Jones had gone by far too quickly. "I have to go." she called out, and he reappeared from the backroom almost instantly. "I've already been here a bit too long."
"Of course, Swan." he said, beaming at her. "Before you leave, however, may I just say that I've enjoyed your company?"
"I suppose." she answered, still perched on the counter. "If you must."
"I must." he said, striding towards her and suddenly Emma was just a bit too hot. "May I also suggest that I bring you lunch at the station sometime?"
"Oh, uh, actually this was just a one-off." Emma said quickly, jumping from the counter and hurrying over to the door before he could get any closer. He paused, an irritatingly understanding, although slightly disappointed, look gracing his face. "But thanks for the offer. I guess I'll see you around."
"I'm certain you will." He nodded, and Emma was about to leave. She really was. But then her phone rang.
It had been Mary-Margaret on the phone, calling to say that Graham had been at the school and had been very ill, but ran away before Mary-Margaret could help. The last words the teacher had said were that they needed to find him.
Emma had told Jones as soon as the phone call ended, telling him that she had to leave immediately.
"What's wrong with him?" Jones had asked, sounding surprisingly urgent. "Did Mary-Margaret tell you?"
"Something about past lives." Emma had replied with a shrug, leaving the shop before the pawnbroker could ask any more. Jones had followed her, locking up his shop and then catching up so he was striding alongside her.
"Past lives?" he repeated, when they came to a stop outside the elementary school. "And he went to talk to Mary-Margaret about it?"
"Looks that way." Emma told him. "Really, you don't need to help out. Go back to your shop. Perhaps someone will want to buy something. They'll be really disappointed when you're not there."
"They can return another day. They can wait." Jones said, his tone urgent as he gazed in all directions. "Graham can't."
"He's just ill, Jones." Emma said, reaching out to lay her hand on his arm because he was far too riled up over what was happening. "All we need to do is find him, Then we get him home or to the hospital and everything will be fine."
"I don't know." Jones muttered, his stare locked on Emma's hand. "Regina told me earlier that Graham was acting strange last night. I don't know what's going on, but it could be worse than you think."
"That's why the hospital is an option." Emma pointed out.
Jones shook his head and then carefully brushed her hand away from his arm. "We should split up." he suggested. "We need to find him, Emma."
Jones walked away before Emma could question his worry, because as ill as Graham could be, surely it wasn't bad enough to warrant such a panic.
He had been fine yesterday, if a little drunk.
But there was something she had seen in Jones' expression, as though he knew something she didn't, that made her just slightly more desperate to find the Sheriff.
Emma had found Graham just outside Regina's house, only after Mary-Margaret had sent her a text mentioning that she may have told Graham about Henry and his book. As insane as Henry's theory was, Graham had appeared convinced. and when Emma ran into him, the Sheriff seemed convinced that he no longer had a heart.
That Regina had taken it.
He'd told Emma a crazy story about a wolf, and although Emma herself had been certain she'd seen the same animal only a couple of weeks before, she'd been told enough times that there weren't wolves in Storybrooke. And then Graham had said the same thing.
She'd tried to convince him that he was simply hallucinating, because there wasn't a wolf and he definitely had a heart. She'd attempted to prove it to him, taking his hand in hers and holding them both to his chest, feeling the solid beat of his heart under their hands, under his jacket.
The way he'd looked at her, when she'd done that, had been terrifying because he clearly still felt something and Emma didn't want him to.
But they'd both been distracted when the wolf appeared.
They'd chased the creature for what felt like hours, arriving at the cemetery as the sun began to set, and then despite all her attempts to persuade Graham otherwise, they had ended up breaking into Regina's family morgue and looking for his heart.
The mayor had found them there, and Emma had stood awkwardly behind the Sheriff as he broke up with Regina, telling her that he would rather feel nothing than whatever it was he felt for her, insisting that they were over even after all of Regina's protests.
And then Regina had turned on her, blaming Emma for everything Graham was saying, and Emma had snapped. Graham wasn't leaving Regina for Emma, but Emma was sick of Regina making out that everything was Emma's fault.
Emma had told her so, had pointed out that she wasn't the problem, that people were choosing to leave Regina, and that was a pretty heavy hint that the problem was with Regina herself.
Regina had roared in anger and punched Emma in the face, which, admittedly, Emma hadn't expected, but was more than happy to reciprocate. Emma was good at fighting, had done plenty of it during her years as a bail bondsperson, and if Regina wanted a fight, she was going to get one.
There had been pulled hair, fists thrown, and at one point, Emma had even shoved Regina back into the solid wall of the crypt.
But Graham had pulled the two of them apart, and Regina wasn't worth enough to keep fighting, so Emma had just left.
And now Emma and Graham were back at the Sheriff station. She sat on her desk, the skin near her eye throbbing and sore. Regina must have managed to get her with a ring or something, because she'd definitely broken the skin, and Graham was fussing far too much over a simple injury.
But it was nice to have someone care about her.
"I'm sorry." Graham said eventually, after he'd found a small bandage in the first aid kit. "I don't know what came over me. I kind of lost my mind."
"It's okay." Emma said sincerely. "You were tired and feverish. And heartbroken?"
Graham nodded, his free hand rising to rub at his chest, just over his heart. "I don't know why I let myself get caught up with her."
"Because it was easy. And safe." Emma said quietly, remembering the short-lived and feeling-free relationship she had gotten involved in during her time in Tallahassee, an attempt to feel anything that was better than the overpowering sense of loss that had taken over her since Phoenix. "Not feeling anything's an attractive option when what you feel sucks." Graham stepped closer to her, dabbing at the small cut with an antiseptic wipe and causing Emma to wince away from him, a forced laugh escaping her. "I felt that."
The Sheriff smiled fondly down at her, his touch gentle as he cleaned her wound, and then he carefully laid a band-aid to it, pressing down lightly. "All better."
"Yeah." Emma said, pulling her head away from his touch, because he was looking at her too intently and she had no idea what to say. "Thanks."
"Emma?" he said quietly, shifting so he was just as close as he had been before she pulled away. "With you, what I feel doesn't suck."
"Oh." Emma muttered, not sure what to do when she felt his hand on her cheek, his lips moving closer and closer until they were almost brushing hers. But she couldn't do it. She couldn't kiss him. "Wait." She raised her hand to his lips, keeping him away. "I'm sorry, but I don't feel anything more for you. You're a good friend, Graham. A great friend. But I can't do anything more. And I know you're heartbroken and you're hurting, but I can't kiss you and comfort you when it won't mean what you want it to."
The Sheriff swallowed and took a large step back, his stare locked on the floor, on his feet. "I had hoped you felt differently, but I understand." he said quietly. "And this won't change anything. I'll be a friend to you, because you're a part of my life I don't want to lose, even if we can't be together the way I had hoped we could be."
"Thank you." Emma said sincerely, leaning over to place a brief, hesitant kiss on his cheek. "I don't want to lose you either."
He smiled for only a second and then he froze, collapsing forward, falling onto the desk and then to the floor, gasping and clutching at his chest, his breath escaping in sharp pants.
"Graham?" Emma cried, bending down and repeating his name, one hand reaching out to grip at her arm, the other still clutching at his heart. "Graham!"
He convulsed one last time and then his hands went limp, his whole body went limp, and Emma didn't know what to do. She leaned closer, her cheek just above his lips, and she felt a chill run through her when she realised there was no breath.
Graham wasn't breathing.
A sob tore through her body, and she clutched at him, held him tightly for a second, and then lowered him gently to the floor, scrambling to find her phone and dialling 911. She knew she sounded almost incomprehensible, but the woman on the line seemed to gather that she was in the sheriff's station, and an ambulance seemed like it was on it's way.
But all Emma could see was Graham's prone body on the floor of station, and although she wanted to cradle him to her and just wish him back to consciousness, to life, she knew it didn't work that way. She fell to her knees beside him, pressing the heels of her hand against his chest desperately, counting the number of chest compressions and then lowering her mouth to his. She made sure his head was tilted back and his nose pinched shut, and she breathed into him.
His chest rose, but he didn't breathe out.
She tried again, repeating the same motions over and over until she heard a commotion outside, until she felt someone's hands firm on her arms, pulling her away.
For a moment, as she watched the doctors swarm around Graham, she panicked, thinking she should call the cops or something, because men like Graham didn't just fall down dead, but then Emma remembered she was the cops. She was the only one left, and her throat felt tight and she didn't know what to do.
"I'm sorry, Miss Swan." Emma looked up when she heard Dr Whale's voice, looked from him to the somber, idle medical staff, and she didn't need to hear the words.
She knew Graham was gone, how could she not, but he shouldn't be.
He shouldn't be covered by a white sheet, but he was.
And Emma didn't know what to do.
And I'm sure you all knew that was coming, but I'm sorry! I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. Thank you all for the reviews/alerts/favourites and thank you to BlackDragon733 for editing this with me!