Time for a little Mary Margaret and John Doe, no?

WHISPERS IN THE DARK

After breakfast Mary Margaret gathered her things and headed to the hospital. Because it was John Doe's last day, she had promised to visit for the day and "make some final memories," as he put it. As she sat across from him at the small table in the physical therapy gym, she couldn't help but get lost in thought as he spoke. Not that what he was saying wasn't interesting, she just found that he was a very thought-provoking person. In the background of her daydream she could hear him.

They had been discussing "life," of all things. He had this great passion for understanding why people ended up where they did, and whether or not there was such a thing as destiny, or free choice; or if everything was already set out before one was even born. When, after half an hour, the conversation shifted to what they each wanted from life she could feel herself blushing slightly when he talked about wanting to meet the right person some day, and have a house full of children. All that he had said was absorbed into her mind until one phrase startled her out of her subconscious.

"Sorry?" she asked, checking that she had heard him right.

"True love," he repeated, "Do you believe in true love? That there is someone out there who we are destined to be with?"

"Oh," she stuttered, "I don't know. I mean I would like to think so, but it's hard to imagine that something from fairytales really exists, isn't it?"

"Maybe, but if true love exists, I want it," he stated matter-of-factly, his eyes lingering on hers a bit longer than necessary.

"But how do you know? What you want? I mean, that must signify that whoever you were before now is still inside you somewhere," Mary Margaret offered. His eyes fell slightly and the smile on his face faded. He sank into thought, and she could tell that she probably had chosen the wrong thing to say. She reached out her hand and set it on his own, curling her grasp and letting the warmth radiate from her to him. "You will remember, I believe that more than anything," she stated seriously before smiling, trying to lift his spirit.

Somehow the gesture struck a chord and from that point on, his face remained alight for the rest of the day. After a few hours of games, chit chat and a cafeteria lunch, Mary Margaret found herself growing weary and finally told him that she would be leaving. "I'm sorry I can't stay until you're checked out. I was just up late last night and I think it's finally catching up to me."

"Of course, I understand," he replied. "It might be another hour; they're really busy with patients today. Oh, Mary Margaret," he said quickly, seeing that she was moving to leave, "I know this might be forward, but, would you like to have lunch with me tomorrow? I saw this nice spot near the lake when I was out walking the other day. We could have a picnic?"

Mary Margaret could feel every fiber of her being screaming at her to say no. "Sure," she answered. "Meet you at Granny's at noon?"

"Yeah," he beamed back at her. "See you then."

She gave him one last smile before walking out of the room. Somehow her brain wasn't very good at telling her mouth what to speak. She had wanted more than anything to say yes, but everything told her no. And yet, her answer was what she had felt, somewhere deep within her chest. He was her compulsive disease in a way. Somehow he had gotten under her skin, and now she was stuck with him; and all of the feelings that came along with it.


Late the next morning Mary Margaret emerged from her bedroom, to find Emma curled up on the couch with a small white blanket and an open file. She realized that it was probably something private that the young woman did not wish to discuss, but Mary was feeling daring that morning for some reason. Maybe it was the way she was dressed. She couldn't remember the last time that she had taken almost an entire morning to get ready to go somewhere. Much less, for a date.

"What's that?" she spoke finally, nodding toward the file. The minute Emma had heard the voice and turned to her roommate, she'd shut the folder quickly, and held it down onto her lap.

"Nothing, just some old files," she lied. She doubted that Mary Margaret would believe her, but she still hoped that she would catch the hint that elaborating on their contents was not going to happen.

"Oh," she responded, playing along, "Where'd you get them?" She waltzed into the kitchen and began making herself a small piece of toast to tide her over. She was supposed to meet him in a little over an hour.

"From work, Graham let me take them home," Emma responded. The tone of her voice would have been convincing enough to anyone else, but her roommate knew her too well already.

"Oh, of course," Mary Margaret conceded, trying to keep a steady beat to her voice. She could feel herself growing slightly perturbed at the fact that Emma was pressing forward with the lie. "But explain one thing to me," she spoke again, knowing the next question was not a good idea, "How come those exact files were sitting in your car when I first walked by that one night. I can't imagine he gave them to you that early on, now can I?" Her speech was becoming more mocking and sarcastic. She already regretted pressing the issue, but there was no stopping this drive she had to chastise the younger woman for lying.

Emma felt her neck tightening at the fact that her roommate was challenging her. She was trapped and she knew it.

"Look," Mary breathed, calming herself, "I understand if you don't want to talk about your parents…." Emma flinched, surprised that her friend knew the purpose of the file. But the more she thought about it the more she realized how perceptive Mary Margaret was, and how she might not have missed all of Emma's slip ups that clued her into what her childhood had been like.

"No," she sighed, "I mean there really isn't a lot to talk about. I don't know anything about them. But I'll find them someday." She stopped talking at that spot. She didn't want to continue and risk an emotional rant on how much she hated them for leaving her to the life she had. Emma let out a long breath and then looked at Mary Margaret who nodded in understanding and dropped the subject.

The brunette looked away and returned to flitting around the kitchen, gathering butter, a plate, and a few other amenities, but Emma kept her eyes on her, studying her movement. Something was different… and then she realized it. She let out a snort, accidentally catching Mary Margaret's attention, before asking, "And where are you going?"

She suddenly grew very pink and sheepish. "Nowhere," she replied, her eyes dancing slightly.

"Oh, right," Emma nodded in mockery. "Well I hope you have fun going nowhere."

Mary Margaret rolled her eyes, and took a bite of her freshly buttered toast. Sometimes Emma could be such a sass.


The picnic that John Doe, gosh she hated having to call him that, had lain out was lovely. The location was pristine and the grin on his face when he showed it to her had been the icing on the cake. Some pasta salad, fresh bread, home-baked cookies, and a bottle of wine sat at one corner and the two of them sat occupying the rest of the stereotypical checkerboard mat. For a minute they just sat and smiled at each other, but he was eager to begin a conversation so he cleared his throat and started,

"So, I've decided that I need a name, and I was hoping that you might help me pick." He stared into her eyes intently, waiting for a suggestion.

"Me?" She sat back, slightly baffled. "But it's your own name, you have to have an opinion."

"I do, but I still want to know what you think," he responded softly, still wearing is ridiculous grin.

Mary Margaret sighed, thinking. "Well, I'm not sure if I've heard it somewhere before or what, but I've always liked the name James."

He liked the way the name slipped past her lips. "I like it," he announced. "James, it is."

"Well what about a last name?" she asked.

"I was just going to take yours…" he drawled playfully, hiking up the corner of his mouth into a half smile.

Mary Margaret let out a small laugh and playfully shoved him, to which he responded by falling back dramatically and pretending that he'd hurt his back. "Ah ow!" he cried out sharply.

Mary suddenly grew worried and crawled forward, putting her arm out to offer her hand. "Oh I am so sorry! I only meant to pla…hey!" He grasped her wrist and pulled her forward to him, her heart racing as she landed on his chest. Flustered, she climbed off and back to her spot, trying to hid the nervous grin stretching on her face; him laughing throughout.

Once he was back in a sitting position, she poured them each a glass of wine and, still blushing, raised one to the air saying, "To life, and to fresh starts, James."

"To me," he chortled. After each taking a drink, they dove into the food, devouring most of it within minutes, and falling into small chit chat.

Over the next ten minutes, she could feel him move closer to her on the mat, with each scratch of the chin when laughing, or each adjustment of his sitting position when it grew too uncomfortable, until she felt his knee grazing hers and his hand a centimeter away, their finger tips exchanging heat through the small space of air between them. Suddenly there was lull in the conversation and he smiled.

The space between them slowly lessened until she could feel their noses brush. She could smell the sweet wine on his breath and she longed for nothing more than to close the gap between them. His lips began to brush hers but she panicked, pulling back.

"I..can—" but she couldn't finish her sentence before her heart took over and she had closed the distance on her own. It was wrong, it was all wrong, she knew it. But the feeling of him with her, moving with her, she couldn't reach her thoughts through it. She knew… She knew… She… "No." She broke the kiss and the cool air shocked her lips as she drew back.

"I'm sorry, James. But you could have a life somewhere." He looked back at her is eyes glassy.

"I don't care," he assured her. "Whatever my life was before, it doesn't matter. All that matters are these feelings I have for you."

His words drilled into her and rooted themselves there. He was slowly breaking her down again.

He huffed loudly, realizing that the moment had passed and the chance of her giving in was low. "Okay, maybe we just need time to think and to breathe. Meet me back here tomorrow night and then we'll see how we feel. If you don't show, I'll have my answer. Fair?"

She sighed, she knew more time would only weaken her resolve, but she felt that there wasn't much of a choice. "Fair."


Walking back to the lake that night, she regretted every step. It was frightening how strong her feelings for him were. She hadn't even known him that long. He hadn't even known himself for that long.

She made it to the spot and waited. It was cold, it was dark, but she waited. She had fallen for him and she already knew it. There was no turning back.

A crunching sound came down the pathway and there he stood, emerging from the shadows, a telling expression on his face.

So has Katherine finally mysteriously emerged as a part of Regina's plan? If so what will his choice be? Or will it be something else entirely? Thoughts/theories? Reviews? ;)

Thank you 7Seven7. Every chapter, without fail. You are practically my muse.