DISCLAIMER: I do not dare presume to own the rights to ABC's or Disney's hit characters from Once Upon a Time. I'm borrowing them purely for our own enjoyment and thank them from the bottom of my heart for providing such awesome inspiration.
In the Shadow of the Toll Bridge
Citizen Shane
"You took away our happy endings. Now it's our turn to take yours!" cried Emma as her fingers tightened the already deadly grip she had of Regina's neck. No, thought the queen. No no no it can't end like this. But there was no mistaking the blonde woman's intent. The rage pulsing through her fingers was without mercy, made even more menacing by the sight of Prince James and Snow White standing proudly behind her. Regina watched in terror as the woman stepped back, turned to the prince and took from him a long golden shining sword. No! she wanted to cry out. No it can't be! But before the words could reach her lips, Emma Swan raised the sword over her head, fire dancing in her eyes, and slashed down—
"NO!" the mayor wrenched herself awake, utterly drenched with sweat. Her hands came to her neck and she gasped, almost as if she could still feel Emma's iron-clad grip around it.
"Wha-what is it, whatsa matter?" came a groggy voice beside her.
Regina rolled her eyes and looked over. Gods, why was he such a light sleeper? "Nothing," she snapped. "I'm fine, go back to sleep."
But in the time it took her to dismiss his concern, the sheriff came fully awake, propped himself up on his elbows and stared down at her. "Regina you were screaming."
"I told you, I'm fine," she seethed for there was nothing she loathed more than to appear weak, particular in front of one of her own pawns. "Now either go back to sleep or just go," she said. In his eyes she registered a bit of resentment, hurt even, and Regina gulped back another vicious retort. Cursing to herself, she shook her head and leaned back into him, resting her hand atop his bare chest and adopting a more soothing tone. "I'm sorry, Graham," she purred. "I…I just…haven't been sleeping well."
Graham crossed his arms behind his head and stared at the ceiling. "So I've noticed."
"Please, I didn't mean to snap," she crooned. She'd been careful with Graham the past two nights. Masking memories made in Storybrooke was a tricky task, and concealing from Graham the entirety of Ava and Nicolas Zimmer's incarceration at the Lost Boys' home as well as his own temporary imprisonment had cost them too much magic already. It wouldn't do to have him resenting her treatment of him and driving him into the arms of a certain blonde coworker. Still, she was never one for sweet-nothings and endearments…not since Daniel. And she was too distracted to play nice. The dream she'd just had was no fluke. It was a warning.
She was just thinking of a slightly nicer, subtler way of suggesting that he depart when the sheriff himself decided it was time to go. "I've got an early day tomorrow anyway," he grunted as he threw the covers off himself, bent down to retrieve his boxers and pants and shrugged on his clothing. "Gotta see Jade Pilfer about her ex-husband."
Regina's head darted up. "What?"
Graham threw his shirt on and started working on the buttons. "Shane Pilfer? The bloke I busted for gambling a few years back?"
"Yes yes, I know who he is. What about him?" Regina waved his hand impatiently, interest piqued enough to distract her from her own troubles.
"He…might be a suspect in the Sean Herman case," Graham was saying as he shoved his feet into his shoes. Regina tried not to appear too pleased by this news as her sheriff continued. "Gotta see if Jade has any idea where he is. Try to bring him in."
Regina's eyes narrowed. "Haven't you given that boy enough benefit of the doubt by now?" She tried not to sound too reproachful, but the huntsman had been down this road before with Agrabah's unlikely prince consort. The street rat's regression to his old life of crime had been beautifully orchestrated by the curse and had kept Jafar relatively content with the status quo all these years. But for some reason, Graham had consistently cut him slack, pressing lesser charges, letting him off easy. That show of faith had actually delayed (quite a few times) Jasmine's giving up on him and had on more than one occasion postponed her going through with the divorce and seeking comfort in Jafar's manipulative arms. Because Graham wouldn't give up on 'Shane', 'Jade' and 'Shane' wouldn't give up each other. It was the first time Regina had had to intervene where her puppet sheriff was concerned (honestly, of all the huntsmen in the world, she had to go and pick one with just about the clearest conscience in all the realms).
Graham eyed her incredulously but didn't respond, so she pushed him further. "In fact, from what I hear, Shane went off the deep end once his wife left him. Who named his as a suspect?"
Again, Graham hesitated. He had the distinct sense suddenly that he shouldn't be sharing any of this, an instinct telling him to shut his mouth, that the more she knew the worse off they'd all be. But as she glared at him, searching, probing his mind, he felt compelled to answer and in the end decided not to question it. She was the mayor after all.
"Jack Hunter," he said matter-of-factly as he pulled on his pants and looped up his belt.
Regina's eyes bugged out. Jack Hunter, she thought with renewed interest. Circe's newest pawn. Well well, this could be good. "Isn't that Sean's boss?"
Graham nodded.
She leaned her arms back on the bed, smiling smugly. "Well then I'd call that more than 'might' be a suspect. Jack Hunter cares a great deal for Sean – gave him that job when Mitchell kicked him out of—"
Graham fisted his hand and punched the mattress. "You don't think Shane Pilfer is any more capable of beating up Sean than I do! And of all the trouble he has gotten himself into, I'd hate to see him go down for something he didn't do."
Regina jolted forward, crossing her arms. "Well maybe if he'd actually gotten in trouble for all those other things, this thing wouldn't have happened." She knew she shouldn't provoke him, but she couldn't resist the bite in her voice as she said it. Graham gritted his teeth, grabbed his jacket, and headed for the door. "Just make sure you do this one by the book, got it?" She glared him down, all the threats behind her warning crystal clear.
Graham thought about arguing, but something prevented him. Someday, he thought sadly. Someday he might actually figure out why it was he could never stand up to her. "See y'around Regina," he muttered and was gone.
She watched him leave and then gave the door a satisfied nod as she laid back down on the pillow and stared at the ceiling. It seemed that whatever Circe and Jafar had cooked up together had certainly pointed Graham in the right direction. She wasn't quite sure how it would solve the problem of Adam, but if Prince Thomas's attack and probable handicap was the cake, assault and battery charges against Aladdin would be the icing. And given the fight that she heard had transpired between Ella and Christopher, it seemed less and less likely that Rodmilla would have anything more to complain about in the morning (not that that would stop her of course).
This news should have been enough to lull her back to sleep, but as substantial as each development was in getting things back to normal in Storybrooke, these events were trivial compared to the dream she'd just had and the feeling that something was once again amiss with 'David Nolan' and 'Mary Margaret.' Her trampy little stepdaughter certainly looked ill enough upon witnessing David and Kathryn's nauseating display at Collodi's, but Regina couldn't quite shake the sense that it had all been a rather well-rehearsed display for her benefit. After all, there was still that little matter of Emma Swan telling her that Kathryn and David were planning on starting a family only to have it contradicted by Kathryn herself the very next day. And then for plan B to fail as well – to have implanted the idea that David and Mary were having an affair only to have him and Kathryn joyously reunited without so much as a blemish on Mary Margaret's reputation – it all seemed a little too convenient. And just what were all those people doing at Collodi's anyway? Why it looked like a regular assemblage of James's old war council (minus the cricket and the wolf), and Regina could not let it stand without an explanation.
She would be able to keep a close watch on James tomorrow of course – with his and Archie's award presentation – but the prince was getting very good and skirting surveillance from her various eyes and ears about town (things were so much easier when he was in a coma!). She couldn't be watching everybody 100% of the time – she couldn't risk using the mirrors in this world. Not without threatening the curse.
However she acted, she must do so carefully: If she was wrong and revealed her suspicions without being completely sure, the mere mentioning of the curse might jostle something in an otherwise oblivious David Nolan. If she was right but unprepared to defend herself, the prince might very well take her head off in the middle of Main Street by the light of a Christmas tree. And then of course there was the matter of Emma Swan and how she fit into all of this. Why were her hands around her neck in the dream? Why was it she who wielded the sword?
Yes, she needed more information – information that would most likely come at a price. But she could put it off no longer. She hadn't gone to him yet, partially because she simply hadn't wanted it confirmed. If he was awake, she was doomed. If he was aware, she was in danger. She had given him power here yes, wealth and prominence in town as he had requested, but if he somehow found a way around the curse without a happy ending, there was no telling how much power he wielded or what exactly his own personal agenda in this world might be. Still, to date, he was the only person in town who seemed to know a thing or two about this mysterious Emma Swan and how exactly she was connected to the curse. Regina had her own – frightful – suspicions of course. But she would hear them tomorrow from the man himself. She would hear them from Rumpelstiltskin.
…
When Snow walked into Granny's that morning over an hour earlier than her typical 7:15 coffee time, it was with more than a little trepidation that she approached the counter. So much of what happened tonight depended on how well things went this morning, and she was more than aware that she was banking a lot on chance.
He came here every morning at 6:00. It was part of Joe Whale's daily routine, a routine that also involved a rather rigorous workout regimen of which he'd boasted endlessly. There was much Snow wanted to forget about her one pitiful date as Mary Margaret, but in retrospect she was certainly glad that Joe had asked her out. The information he'd unknowingly offered gave her the perfect opportunity to put the plan into motion…if she could finagle it just right.
It was the part of the plan she deliberately hadn't gone into too much detail about at Collodi's the day before. Not that she didn't trust James, but she preferred not giving her prince something else to worry about on top of the rescue itself, the tree lighting, and Emma's search for the Zimmers (not to mention everything happening with Thomas). So she decided the degree of flirtation she knew this part would require wasn't something with which James need bother himself. Joe Whale had been…well, less than subtle back at the hospital, and she could tell the doctor, for whatever reason, had renewed his interest in her. At first, it was an annoyance, but after her lunch with Belle, Snow quickly realized she could use that interest to her advantage; she just had to plant the seed first. It was all playacting of course, and she supposed she needn't feel self-conscious about it. It was no different than what James had had to do with Abigail before she woke up. Still…she didn't have to like it.
So at 6:00 instead of 7:15, Snow parked alongside the diner, fumbled her crutches into position and trudged up the front stoop to Granny's. She shivered as she neared the entrance, pulling her scarf up tightly around her neck. The forecast had been predicting flurries for days, but Snow wondered if tonight Mother Earth might actually deliver. With a heavy tug, she yanked open the door and quickly scanned the room. There he was, seated at a booth in the far corner, nursing a cup of coffee with the Daily Mirror in hand. Snow took a deep breath, squeezed tightly to the two handles of her crutches and then thunked them loudly across the floor, making a big show of how difficult it was for her to move to a table.
Joe Whale looked up immediately as Mary Margaret struggled across the diner. As soon as he spotted her, he set his mug down with a clunk and slid out of the booth. "Mary Margaret!" he called, waving his hand over his head and gesturing for her to join him. He thought about moving to help her, but really how do you help a person on crutches? Plus, he had a feeling based on her behavior at the hospital, that his advances might be less than welcome. If he were to succeed with this particular conquest, he was going to have to be subtler than that. So far it was a good sign that she'd flashed him a small grin and started over to his booth.
"What brings you here so early?" he asked as he gestured for her to slide on the other side.
"Oh, you know," Snow frowned, laying her crutches against the back of the seat and scooting herself in, "didn't sleep much last night. Got a bit restless."
Joe nodded, taking a sip from his mug as he sat back down. "Starting your day early then?"
"Something like that."
There was a brief pause and then the doctor did a double take and looked toward the counter. "Here, let me get you something. Marie!" he called toward the back room.
Just then, Snow winced and hissed loudly, clutching her leg down by her cast and making a big show of pain and discomfort.
Joe's gaze darted back to her. "What is it? Are you ok?"
Snow squeezed her eyes shut even tighter. "Oh I'm sure it's nothing."
"Mary Margaret," he said scornfully.
Again she frowned. "Well, it's just that I've been having a lot of pain in my calf. More so than even my ankle."
Joe glanced down beneath the table top and then up again. "Have you been keeping off the leg like I told you? Using the crutches?"
Snow hesitated, chewing thoughtfully on her bottom lip before she looked up and flashed him another coy half-grin.
Joe took the bait immediately and flashed her an equally flirtatious smirk. "Mary," he shook a finger toward her in mock condescension. "You've been walking on that cast haven't you?"
Snow rolled her eyes and gestured to the crutches behind her. "They're just so uncomfortable, Joe. And I can't manage a classroom full of fifth graders if I have to use those things."
Whale slapped both his palms on the table and leaned forward. "You're back at school already?"
"Of course I am. They gave my classes to the gym teacher," she added with a light chuckle.
Joe let his head fall into his palm as he shook his head. "Well that would be why you're in pain."
With a sigh and a shrug, she reached into her purse and pulled out her cell phone. "Well that's why I'm gonna call Dr. Stone today. See if maybe I can get in to see him this evening."
Joe had just picked up his mug again and was about to take a sip when Mary's comment fully registered. "Stone?" he halted, mid-lift. "Tobias Stone?"
"Mmm-hmm?"
Critically, he set back down his cup. "Stone's a surgeon. Why would you go in and see him?"
Snow noted the hint of jealousy in the man's voice and, despite her aversion to willful deception, felt a tiny thrill thrum in her chest. It was working. "Oh, well you know Rose French from the other day?" she asked innocently.
"Yeah," he said tightly and scowled. Of course he knew Rose French. In fact, that whole ridiculous business with Mo French was what had drawn him to this new feisty version of Mary Margaret Blanchard in the first place. Still, he didn't like to be reminded of the schoolteacher's reprimand nor the blustering bravado of "Saint Tobias's" much preferred bedside manner.
Snow pretended not to notice Whale's prickling reaction to the name and continued. "Well, she just had nothing but praise for the man after he took over her father's case. So I thought I'd just—"
"Mary Margaret," Whale instinctively reached for her hand across the table and glared into her eyes. What was it about this woman? Was it a game? Was she toying with him? Had she truly forgotten their verbal duel over the diagnosis of Rose's father, or was she deliberately opting for the doctor whose second opinion she'd demanded to hear that day in order to make him jealous now? If so…it was working, for the ER doc's blood was boiling with that bothersome mixture of irritation and desire that he'd first felt upon their quarrel.
Snow glanced down at his hand clasped over her wrist and then back up, gazing at him with an artfully crafted mien of innocence and curiosity.
"Stone is," Joe swallowed thickly, "a…very competent surgeon. But I'm the one who's the most familiar with your case. I'm the one who treated you, remember?" he eyed her carefully, looking for some kind of reaction. "Why don't you let me take a look at it?"
Snow drew back from him, wide-eyed and surprised. "Oh Joe, I meant no offense," she insisted, though she still pulled her hand away. "I just figured it'd be easier to get in to see Stone since he works nights." She looked back at her phone and made a point of dialing. "I have no time on school days to get in any earlier and I wouldn't dream of asking you to miss the festival tonight."
Again, Joe reached forward and covered her hand, stopping her from dialing any further. "Miss Blanchard, it would be my pleasure."
Snow glanced up, legitimately startled now, for the doctor's eyes reflected genuine concern and a wish to help. Dammit, she thought guiltily. If only she knew for sure that his alter-ego was as duplicitous as he seemed. Then she wouldn't have to feel bad. "Are you sure?" she asked timidly, returning her phone to her purse.
"Absolutely. What time?"
Snow took a deep breath. "6:30," she said almost too quickly.
Joe drew back with a devilish smile and a wink. "6:30 it is."
And with that, the voice of Snow's grandson rang clear in her head: "Mission accomplished!"
Having successfully hooked a naive Dr. Whale into the plan, Mary Margaret continued to make pleasant small talk until it was time for him to leave. As she did so, she was amazed by how calm she felt, how natural this was. Why, wasn't it only a few weeks ago that 'Mary Margaret' had been sitting in this very diner, blubbering and blustering all over her pie, making gaffe after gaffe about topics in which Whale was not the least bit interested? How could she have spent 28 years as such a meek-minded, simpering little homebody?
About an hour later, long after Joe had left for his scheduled shift at the hospital, Snow was still sitting in her booth, trying to enjoy a leisurely breakfast whilst attempting to shift her frustration with her alter ego back to the queen. Mostly, she wanted to calm her nerves, knowing how hectic tonight would be and wanting to preserve as much energy as possible. But in truth, she was also hoping to get a glimpse of Ella before she had to leave for school. Other than having followed her home after that horrid confrontation at the hospital, Snow hadn't been able to even share two words of grief with her dear friend for what she must be going through. It was likely Ella wasn't actually working today, but Snow had nowhere else to be right now and wanted to at least see if she could gage the state of things concerning 'Ashley' and 'Mitchell.'
It was close to 7:15, her usual time, when the door dinged open and the young blonde breezed through the door. She had Alex in tow of course, cradled in that super adaptable car seat of hers with a baby bag slung over her shoulder. Snow watched patiently from the distance as 'Ashley' called out to Granny; the latter woman came at once, receiving the little bundle of joy with care and taking her to the back room. Snow watched that little girl until she was clear out of sight, thinking instantly of the night she'd watched her…seen James holding her…felt that emptiness once again from all they'd missed with Emma. In fact, she was so intensely focused on the baby, she hadn't immediately noticed Ashley… staring right at her.
Startled from her trance, Snow perked up and waved from her booth. Ella stalked over at once, and it was then that Snow finally noticed the subtle change in her eyes: Blue and twinkling (she certainly didn't seem like a girl whose fiancé was lying unconscious in the hospital). And unless Snow was mistaken, this was the face of a girl on a mission, a girl with all the gumption and soul and hope that Snow remembered – a girl…named Ella.
Ella reached the raven-haired princess in about three strides, knowing instantly by her gaze that she was right. All morning, she'd gone over and over in her head the events of the past few weeks: From Emma Swan's arrival at the hospital to what was at the time a very strange visit from Storybrooke's resident 5th grade English teacher, she could now view every memory in the proper context. Emma Swan had somehow managed to save her from Rumpelstiltskin, not Mr. Gold, and'Mary Margaret Blanchard' had not been making a random house call on poor waitress 'Ashley'; Snow White had been visiting one of her dearest friends. "Mary Margaret!" she said brightly, her face flushed and eager. "How are you?" and without even being asked, she plopped down across the booth, folded her hands on the table and hunched her shoulders down over her arms. "Or should I say…Snow White?" she winked.
Snow gaped and just about burst with excitement, reaching across the table at once and squeezing both Ella's hands in her own. "Ella?" she whispered fiercely. "How did you—when—"
"Oh my goodness!" said the girl quite loudly, so much so that Granny's few scattered patrons turned to see what the problem was. Snow glanced back at her, puzzled but Ella was staring strangely at her cast. "We have to get some ice on that immediately. Come on, we've got some in the back."
Catching on, Snow allowed herself to be ushered into the back room where Ella intended them to be able to speak freely. Both ladies kept darting knowing glances at each other to the point where Snow almost forgot Ella's improvised cue that she need to act pained in order for their exit to seem plausible to Marie. "Granny, can you watch the front for a second?" Ella asked the old woman as she emerged from the makeshift day care suite.
"Oh dear, what happened?" Granny looked down at once, trying to see if maybe the cast had cracked.
"It's swelling a bit, Granny," Snow complied easily with Ella's ruse and covered the area right above the top edge of the cast.
"Well be sure you get that checked out. Don' wanna mess with broken bones," Marie replied and with that left the two women alone.
As soon as they were inside, Ella shut the door and proceeded to squeal with Snow for about 90 seconds flat as they embraced like the sisters they'd always imagined being. Baby Alex, curious as ever, pushed herself up on her stomach and popped her head out of the crib to inspect her silly mom. Oddly enough, their momentary lapse into high-pitched girliness did not seem to bother the little babe one bit, so she settled herself right back to sleep.
"Ella, my Gods! What happened?" Snow cried as they settled on the edge of the hotel bed across from Alex's crib. "The last time I saw you was that awful night you came back from the hospital! When did you—"
"Last night," Ella said hurriedly. "Christopher paid me a visit."
"Christopher!"
She nodded. "I almost didn't believe it at first, but there he was."
"And that's what made you wake up?"
Ella smiled, the entire blessed night replaying itself in her mind. "Not exactly," she said and then explained. She related the most important parts to Snow: Christopher's apology, his holding Alex for the first time, the glass slipper.
When she was finished, Snow was almost in tears, grinning so wide her cheeks hurt. "Oh Ella," she reached forward and embraced her friend again. "That's so wonderful!"
"And I knew," Ella continued, beaming as she pulled away from her friend, though keeping their hands locked together, "as soon as I was awake I knew you had to be. Oh Snow, I'm so sorry I didn't recognize you before."
"Oh please," Snow chuckled, waving her off. "How could you?" She glanced over at Ella's beautiful daughter and sighed. "I wondered if Christopher was the key. I mean with Thomas already awake," she turned back to her friend, "I was pretty sure he had to be the last piece of the puzzle."
Ella was nodding vigorously. "I'm so glad James told Christopher about Regina's threat. As soon as we woke up, we knew what must have happened. Did you know that my stepmotherhas been whispering in Christopher's ear this whole time? Convincing him not to reconcile with us?"
Snow squeezed her hands tightly, a combination of support and shared anger. "No, but that doesn't surprise me."
"And your stepmother actually helped him file a restraining order against me?" she added. "Well…against 'Ashley' anyway."
The older princess slid her eyes shut, trying not to give into the anger that bubbled beneath the surface of this otherwise blissful euphoria. It was too joyous an occasion, Ella and Christopher waking up, to be spoiled by more resentment and bitterness toward the queen. Still, she couldn't quite help her gut reaction of rage…followed by guilt. "Oh Ella, I'm so sorry."
Ella reeled back. "For what?"
She shrugged. "For…just for everything."
Ella sighed, took a deep breath, and closed her hands gently around Snow's again. "I know how much you blame yourself for…her." Snow started to interrupt, but Ella sliced her other hand through the air and stopped her. "But you are not responsible for her ok? She chose her own path just as we chose ours."
Snow regarded her gratefully, smiled and then rolled her eyes. "You sound like James."
"Well I should," she laughed outright, throwing her head back and thinking of Snow's excellent husband. "All those pep talks he gave me in the mines."
Snow laughed as well. "James does like his pep talks." The two giggled and snickered like schoolgirls. Laughing together again, Snow realized, felt like home. She could almost smell the delicious aroma of Ella's famous mincemeat pies cooking in the oven, the scent of pine needles wafting through the air as they decorated a small Christmas tree in that wooded cabin they'd hid in together. Both runaways and, for a time, all each other had, Snow and Ella had a history that went back almost as far as her past with Regina, a past that no longer seemed quite so long ago. Eventually though, Snow's laughter died down and she leveled her gaze. "So…what's next? Where is Christopher now?"
Ella withdrew from the bed and went over to the crib, patting her sleeping daughter on the head. "He's going back to the hospital today to stay with Thomas."
Snow hobbled behind her, joining her at the crib. "And you?" she asked quietly.
The blonde sighed. "For now, we're going to play along with Rodmilla and Regina's scheming. If they both think that 'Mitchell' succeeded in keeping me away—"
"Then they'll back off," Snow said resentfully, hating the truth of the statement but knowing it was the smartest plan right now. Still, it didn't seem right that Ella couldn't be with her beloved Thomas after finally awakening. Snow stared at the empty space between the bars of the crib as an idea formed in her head, one that was just the right level of crazy. A slow thin smile spread across her face.
Ella stood waiting and watching as the gears in her friend's head spun round. She knew that look, that look she got whenever Snow came up with an idea that made Ella feel both incredibly excited…and just a little bit panicked. "What?" she asked, losing her patience.
The clock on the square suddenly chimed 7:45 and Snow turned her head sharply toward the window. Damn! she thought. She was going to be late for school.
"Snow?"
She turned back. "Ella, meet me on the square at about 3:00," she said, hastily moving to retrieve her crutches. She paused at the door, gave her friend another quick hug, and then pulled back. "I have an idea."
…
After talking with Dawn at the hospital, Emma had almost headed right to the firehouse to search out Matt Clancy and his partner yesterday. She couldn't explain it, but she felt strangely like she was on the right path. Henry was getting off from school though, and she wanted to get some time in with him before Regina appeared to whisk him away to therapy. And when that was followed by a call from her mother, filling her in on all that had transpired with Belle at the house, Emma decided to call it a day and went home to talk shop with Snow.
So it wasn't until the next morning that Emma arrived at Storybrooke's firehouse: the rather run-down building that stood about a mile away from the town square right next to Storybrooke's post office. She supposed she'd had some preconceived notion of what a firehouse should look like since Dawn had mentioned it: brick building, two stories, big spacious garage with big red fire trucks, guys walking around in black rubber boots letting their mascot Dalmatian drink from a hose, and of course a sliding pole. This building, however, was only one story – no pole. And it was mostly concrete with space enough for only a small truck and one ambulance rig. The garage space was cramped with tools and equipment hung along the walls, a small office with a window, and a tiny kitchen and break room in the corner.
Letting the heavy steel door seal off the cold behind her, Emma could hear bustling and clattering from that break space. Taking a deep breath, she skirted passed the trucks and over to the room where she discovered two men beating forks and spoons against the metal countertops of their small kitchen. There were only two of them but they were making enough noise for an entire drum corps. Neither of them noticed Emma at first, so she just stared. Both of them, dressed in identical navy blue shirts and bulky black work pants, were fairly tall in stature. In fact, Emma had to blink a few times because they looked so much alike: 6'2", brown hair, and built like your average hefty…hunky fireman. One of them had his hair buzzed to a crisp, military cut while the other had longer, wavy hair swept back and a tad unruly. Watching them, she couldn't help but laugh as Wavy-Hair alternated the beat between two metal pots on the stove while Crew-Cut jammed away on the very edge of the counter. Eventually, her presence was felt and Wavy-Hair turned first, blushed instantly, and then smacked Crew-Cut on the arm.
"Davis!" he shouted. "Davis!"
The clattering stopped and Crew-Cut turned as well.
The first man turned back to Emma and flashed her a winning grin. "Sorry 'bout that Miss…" he stuck out his hand and stepped forward.
"Swan," said Emma. "Emma Swan."
He clearly recognized the name for his eyes widened and his grip tightened. "Deputy Swan, of course!" he said. "Our local hero."
Emma furrowed her brow. "Excuse me?"
"Forbidden forest? Kidnapped schoolteacher? Heroic rescue?" he reminded her jovially.
Emma rolled her eyes. "Oh…right," she muttered.
The two of them stared at each other, still clasping hands though no longer shaking. His gaze was so intense, it was hard to look away. He'll hit on any girl that breathes, she reminded herself, and finally, she drew back as he plopped his hands in his pockets and gave her an appraising look. "Been meaning to stop by the station and introduce myself ever since I read that article—"he started.
"Oh he has not," laughed Davis as he stepped forward. "Don't believe a word this guy says, ma'am. He doesn't actually read. He looks at pictures," he joked, shaking Emma's hand. "The name's Trent. Trent Davis. And this is Matt Clancy, my idiot partner."
Emma smiled as the three of them shared nods of introduction and recognition. "Nice to meet you," she said, glad to be in the right place.
"Feeling's mutual, Deputy," Matt winked and gestured for her to be seated at the tiny round table as Trent moved to the fridge.
"Can we get you anything Miss Swan?" he asked, reaching in to grab a bottle of Sunny-D.
"Please, it's just Emma," she waved them off, shaking her head as she took a seat. "I'm actually just here to ask a few questions."
Trent slammed the fridge behind him and took a swig of juice. "Great, what'd you do this time Clancy?"
Matt rolled his eyes. "Oh lay off—"
"Gentlemen," Emma insisted, trying not to let their levity hinder the investigation (though privately she had to admit she could probably watch these two men banter all day and not get bored). She gestured for both to be seated. "Please?" They shared a grin and then sat down obediently. "Thank you," she sighed, folding her hands together atop the table. "A nurse at the hospital told me it was you two who brought in Sean Herman the other night?"
At the mention of the name, both smiles instantly faded. "That's right," said Matt, the humor in his voice fading as well.
The shift in mood was so abrupt, Emma gulped. She supposed part time firefighters/ part time paramedics in a town frozen in time probably hadn't seen a whole lot of serious action before she'd arrived (a quite comical image of Trent and Matt valiantly saving cats from trees came to mind). So the attack on Sean Herman was probably the most violent scene they'd ever been summoned to. "Well," she cleared her throat. "We're trying to track down the person responsible. I need to know if you saw or heard anything that might help."
Trent glanced at Matt and then back again. An uncomfortable silence fell between them before Trent finally spoke up. "We uh, told the sheriff everything yesterday. There was no one there but Sean when we drove up," he said.
"Yeah, no attacker," said Matt. He looked again at his partner and then added, "No attacker and no Samaritan."
Emma started. "Samaritan?"
"Matt," Trent warned.
"What?" he turned abruptly, and Emma got the impression that the two men were suddenly picking up an argument right where they'd left off. "I'm telling you, someone saved Sean's life that night, and it wasn't us."
Emma leaned forward, impressed by Matt's humility. "What do you mean?"
Matt leveled a serious gaze at her, so penetrating that her heart skipped a beat. "There's no way Sean made that call himself with those injuries."
"Right," Emma said. "The doctors at the hospital agreed."
"Yeah but you heard the sheriff," said Trent who then turned to Emma. "Graham suggested the call may have been made by the assailant. Like…a kind of last minute sense of remorse."
Emma cocked an eyebrow, but didn't respond. Graham suggested that, huh? Is that so?
Matt, noting Emma's reaction, cast Trent a sideways look. "That's why you're still a rookie, Davis," he joked but kept one eye trained on the deputy.
Emma glanced at Matt. "I take it you don't agree?"
His face grew so grave it gave Emma goose-bumps. "That kid was beaten within an inch of his life. Whoever did it felt no remorse," he said, fists clenched. "And," he turned back to Trent, "like I said, you didn't hear the 911 call."
Emma straightened up in her seat. "You did?" she asked Matt.
He nodded. "It's a small town, Deputy. The dispatch office is right in there with the chief's." He pointed at the wall the other side of which, Emma knew, stood the office. "Amy was on break when the call came in," he added. "So I took it."
"What makes you so sure the guy who called isn't our suspect?"
Matt grew abruptly silent as he glanced back at his partner.
Trent could only shrug, holding his hands up in the air. "It's up to you, man."
"What's up to you?" Emma demanded, now glaring at him in panic, for swimming in Matt's deep, gray eyes were doubt, confusion…and a little touch of the 'Storybrooke haze.'
"Mr. Clancy," she said softly, reaching forward and touching his hand. The contact startled them both, and Emma felt like the very air around them was charged. "Tell me."
Matt's eyes stayed locked on hers. For whatever reason, he felt strangely drawn to her, more so than he could ever remember feeling with a woman. At her touch, he felt sure he could trust her. "I knew him," he said quietly.
She reeled back. "You knew the caller?" she cried. At last, a break in this case! Quite possibly even a credible witness who might put Jack Hunter at the scene of the crime. "Who was he? What's his name?"
"I…" again he hesitated, glaring between Emma and Trent. "I…I don't know. That's the part—" another sideways glance at Trent— "that doesn't make any sense. I don't have a name. I don't know how I know him, but I recognized his voice. And somehow I…I just knew. I knew he must have saved Sean."
The revelation hung in the air between the three of them with Trent darting looks between the others' staring contest. Emma took a deep breath, trying to temper and mask her disappointment by focusing on this new, equally crucial piece of information. It wasn't the break she'd been hoping for, but she understood the significance of Matt's story even more than he did himself. I don't know how I know him…I just knew. Definitely the beginnings of a rift in the queen's curse. Suddenly she wished one of her parents were here, or Henry for that matter. Sitting before her was someone important from fairy tale world. Someone good. She was sure of it. But she had no clue who he could be.
"Look, you can believe me or not," he huffed suddenly, mistaking her silence for skepticism. "I know what I heard, and—"
"I believe you," she said quickly.
He and Trent both looked up. "You do?" they said together.
She chuckled. "Yeah, I…I can't tell you how many times I've felt the same way since coming here. Like I know something…without really getting why." She glanced over at Trent who was now eyeing her very differently. "It happens a lot around here."
There was another long pause, Trent glancing once again between them before finally clearing his throat. "Umm, I'm gonna go check with Chief on that run, Clancy." He stood up, quickly excused himself, and left the room.
"I-I'm sorry, did I say something wrong?" Emma stammered, watching Crew-Cut leave.
"Nah," Matt gave her a wave, leaning back in his seat as that initial easy-going demeanor she'd first observed of him slowly returned. "That's just Trent for ya. To be honest, I think he thinks I'm a little nuts," he went on, balancing his chair now on its two back legs.
"He doesn't believe you?" she asked, turning back to the table.
"Hell, I don't even know why you believe me," he grinned and then leaned in a bit closer. "But I'm sure glad you do."
Hits on any girl that breathes, hits on any girl that breathes… "Yeah, well," she mumbled, drawing back from him, wondering what the hell had come over her and trying to get herself back on track. "There are lots of things in this world we can't really explain. Doesn't make 'em any less real."
Matt looked to where Trent had disappeared. "That's what I told him."
She cleared her throat. "Well, if you think of anything else," she said, "if you remember a name or can tell me anything more about the caller—Oh!" she cried, remembering where she'd been going with this visit to begin with. "I almost forgot. Nurse Charles said that when Sean came in, he was unconscious?"
"That's right."
"Was he still awake when you first found him?"
Matt glanced at the ceiling. "Barely," he recalled. "He was muttering pretty incoherently. I think he...I think he mentioned a girl."
"Ashley?" she asked.
"No."
"Ella," she amended without thinking.
Matt eyed her curiously, then frowned. "No...no it wasn't Ella either. Actually it sounded a lot like…Shanna? Shayna?"
Emma turned pale. "Shayna?"
"Yeah, I think. I assumed it was a girlfriend or something—"
"Could it have been 'Shane?'" she asked.
His eyes darted down, and something clicked in his head. "Shane! Yeah that was it. 'Find Shane' I think he said."
"Son of a bitch," Emma cried, jumping up from the table. "Uh, I have to go."
"Umm…" Matt stood up too, stepping back and allowing her to bustle passed him. "Ok? What's umm, what's wrong—"
"I just…have to …check on something," she fumbled, pushing in her chair. Find Shane, she thought. What did that mean? Why would Sean have said that? Could that asshole Jack have been telling the truth after all? Find Shane as in 'he's the one who did this'? Or maybe… "I knew he must have saved Sean"…could Shane be Matt's mysterious good Samaritan? "Thanks for your help, Mr. Clancy," she said, pausing beneath the archway.
"'Matt'," he insisted, moving forward to shake her hand again. "My pleasure, Deputy."
Ignoring the now incredibly irritating fluster of nerves at his touch, Emma gave him a terse nod and then hurried out of the station.
…
Trent watched through the office window as Deputy Swan sped out the door, Matt staring dumbly after her. It never failed when a pretty face walked into the room. She was wrapped around Clancy's finger in an instant. Today was slightly different of course; Matt typically hit on nurses and waitresses, not deputies. But the end result was the same. In fact, it was even more ridiculous than usual.
It wasn't that Trent didn't like his partner. So far their relationship had been pretty solid. And he could even believe in this strange sixth sense thing he had going with the Sean Herman case. It was an incredibly intense night for both of them and it certainly helped to believe there had been someone looking out for that poor kid. But for Emma to instantly believe him like that? To completely buy into it, no questions asked?
He chuckled and shook his head as Matt wandered by to start his equipment check. What was it about his partner that made him so god damn magnetic, thought Trent, unable to prevent that little bit of envy from creeping up on him every time he saw Matt work his magic on the ladies. It was the strangest feeling really. He'd only been a rookie for…well, he couldn't quite remember, but it hadn't been long. So why did he feel as if he'd been in Matt Clancy's shadow for his entire life?
…
As crass and indelicate as Jack Hunter had tried to be, his gossip yesterday was not news to Graham. The sheriff had also heard it on the grapevine that Jade Pilfer had been spending her evenings with Storybrooke General's Head of Psychiatry, Doctor Fisk. When her father's senility got worse, Jade had no choice but to have him committed to full time care. Fisk had management of the case, and once she and Shane…separated…Jade had apparently found some degree of solace in the older man's company. Still, Graham hadn't expected to find her doing the walk of shame and was dismayed to pull up to her driveway and see her dragging herself out of her car, clearly dressed in evening wear, trudging up to her door at 8:00 in the morning.
"Jade," he called up to her.
Jade whirled around from the mailbox, spotted the sheriff, and then rolled her eyes up at the sky, shaking her head at the heavens.
"I just need a few minutes," Graham explained, heading up the walkway.
"Well, I don't have a few minutes," she snapped, thrusting her mail under her arm and fumbling in her purse for her keys. "I have to get to work." She marched up the front steps of her little house and was in the process of keying inside.
"Well if you 'ad return'd my calls yesterday," he half joked. By this point, Graham had reached her stoop and held his hand out to stop her. "Jade," he implored. "Please."
Jade didn't look up; she merely paused, glancing at the sheriff's hand clamped down on her wrist, and sighed. "I can't help you," she said quietly, her voice not nearly as biting.
"I just need to know where 'e is."
She darted her head up. "I don't know where he is, ok? He left me, remember?"
Graham frowned, hating the hurt look in the woman's emerald eyes. How often had he seen that look before? How much did he hate to see it reprised now? "I know, but—"
"Look, I know it's a lot easierfor everyone to believe I'm the one who walked away, but you know that's not true," she spluttered, turning her key and shoving open her front door. She stepped up into her living room and spun around. "He walked out on me, all right? So whatever mess he's gotten himself into, I can't help you."
She was about to swing the door closed, but Graham was not giving up. He stuck his hand out and stopped the door, demanding her attention. "Jade," he rasped, dropping into a slightly desperate tone. He hated having to 'do the sheriff thing' and wanted to avoid it if at all possible. "You know I wouldn've come if I 'ad any other choice," he conceded, knowing how hard it was for Jade Pilfer to revisit her past.
Jade and Shane had been together ever since they were in high school. In the old days, Shane called Jade his anchor. She was the only positive influence in his life and for years kept him from going down the same road as his jailbird dad. She helped him study for the GED, helped him get a job, even supported them both while he interned at ENCOM Security. They married young, and her father certainly wasn't happy about it, but they were so much in love it was hard not to root for them. Then, a few years ago – Graham couldn't quite remember exactly how many; that part was a bit hazy– Shane got word that his dad had disappeared. Clive Pilfer went missing, so Shane went looking for him. Jade even supported him at first, and together they tried all the, well, legitimate ways of searching for him. But Shane got swept up by too many of Clive's associates in the process, and things were never the same between him and his wife. When he'd come home, if he came home at all, he was distant, secretive. Jade could tell he was into something deep and couldn't get out, but Shane would not let her help.
Later it was revealed that Clive owed untold thousands to a few loan sharks deep in West End. Shane always had an affinity for poker and started up a regular game down near the docks to help pay off the debt. But what began as an escape route for his father grew into an addiction. Eventually, he stopped coming home to Jade altogether. Months after being abandoned and a couple dozen 'second chances, Jade finally filed for divorce. Graham had been trying to keep Shane out of trouble ever since, despite protestations from Mayor Mills, but if there was any truth to what Jack Hunter had told them, he wouldn't be able to look the other way again.
Jade heaved a sigh and pinched the ridge of her nose. Knowing she was going to relent sooner or later, she opted for sooner so they could at least come in from the cold. Wordlessly, she beckoned the sheriff inside, plopped her purse down on her coffee table and turned. "What'd he do this time?" she asked as Graham closed the door behind him.
"Maybe nothing?" he said, then frowned. "And maybe he attacked Mitchell Herman's son outside of Garcon's Bar the other night."
Jade's eyebrows flew up. "What?" she cried.
"Like I said, it might be nothing," Graham said quickly, holding up his hand.
"Shane would never—"
"I agree, but that's why I need to find him now," he stepped further into the room. Better it be him than Regina herself, who too often took matters into her own hands when she was unsatisfied with his work. He truly wished he hadn't said anything last night but he'd been too groggy to filter himself. "The sooner I figure out exactly how he's involved," he told Jade, "the more likely I'll be able to put the real chap away."
Jade turned from the sheriff, walking over to the mantle on which still sat a framed photograph from her wedding. She'd taken everything else down but could not bring herself to pack that frame. The picture had been taken by a friend of hers right after a guest had bumped Shane's elbow and spilled red wine all over his tux. The pair of them had laughed and howled for minutes on end, their eyes sparkling in the hilarity that had ensued. It had been such a simple affair, their wedding – close friends and family clustered together in Storybrooke's measly party center behind the high school. But they were so happy they might as well have been getting hitched at the Taj Mahal. Gingerly, she ran her finger along the edge of the frame, looking into Shane's deep, penetrating eyes, and sighed. "He…called me up once. Asked me to meet him."
"Where?" Graham stepped over to the mantle at once, gripping the other end.
"I didn't go," she clarified.
"That's ok, just tell me where," he touched her shoulder and turned her to face him. "Jade," he said, "It's a start."
...
The square was certainly bustling with activity by mid-afternoon, vendors arriving left and right, carting their goods into Bridgeport's Emporium to prepare for the tree-lighting festivities. Mr. Bridgeport himself was standing right outside his main entrance, staring up at the two men who had arrived from Collodi's garage to finish decorating the tree. There was something very menacing in the man's glare, and though he did not look familiar, James felt he was certainly someone to watch out for. All morning in fact, he'd been trying to figure out who the famed Master of Ceremonies with the thick, nearly incomprehensible brogue was, but he couldn't at all place him.
So James decided, instead, to focus on Grumpy, figuring he could do at least some of Snow's leg work before tonight. "So how long you lived in Storybrooke, Leroy?" he asked, knowing full well what the answer would be.
Leroy shrugged and grunted, "'S long as I can remember."
"You like it here?"
"Pfft, are you kidding?" he scoffed. "This place is a hell hole. Soon as I get me enough dough, I'm gone."
James glanced down. "Planning a trip?" he asked, tossing the current strand of lights they were laying to the dwarf.
Leroy eyed him warily. "Somethin' like that," he mumbled.
James shook his head – same old Grumpy. He remembered the first few weeks he and Snow had moved into the palace. Grumpy was, of course, completely at ease with Snow, but it had taken some time for him to warm to James. All the dwarfs really, even Doc, were very protective of their beloved princess – a fact he certainly didn't begrudge them. He supposed they had seen her pained enough by his and Snow's separation and heartache to warrant a little caution. But Grumpy had been especially…well…grumpy. The two of them never really bonded until Thomas disappeared, after which they became inseparable comrades.
"Where to?" James asked, wondering if their resident magic expert had somehow concocted a viable escape from the town without even knowing it.
Leroy looked up, thought for a moment about seriously responding, and then thought the better of it. "What's it to you, man?"
James held up his hands. "Just makin' conversation."
Leroy rolled his eyes as he took the rest of the strand around his side of the tree and then threw it back to James. "Yeah well, I'm not really the chatty type all right?" he mumbled. "Let's just get this done so the lemmings can have their little yuletide snooze-fest."
"Snooze-fest?" James chortled. "Not a fan of Christmas then?"
Leroy shot the new guy a look. "Let's just say, I've never been terribly…jolly."
James laughed outright as he positioned the next segment of lights and tossed it back down to Grumpy. "Never been jolly? You? I'm shocked."
"Hey," he heard a voice on the street below and turned to see his daughter staring up at him, holding a gloved hand up as a visor from the sun.
James immediately hopped down from the ladder, excused himself from Leroy (who shrugged carelessly and continued his work) and joined her on the sidewalk. "Hey, any news?" he asked, his voice hurried though hushed.
Emma sighed, knowing how hard it was for James to stay away from the hospital. But it couldn't be helped. There was no reason for 'David Nolan' to be there. "Some of the swelling in his spine has gone down from yesterday, but he's still not awake," she said sadly. "Dr. Whale is worried the longer he's out, the less likely it'll be that he wakes up."
James sucked in a breath, steeling himself against the dread sinking into the pit of his stomach. He opened his mouth to say something, but then shook his head.
Emma tentatively reached forward and placed a calming hand on his shoulder. From all appearances, it seemed quite clear that Thomas was one of her father's closest friends. She understood probably more than he knew how helpless he was feeling right now. "That's not all," she urged James further away from the tree. They stopped when they reached the tiny gazebo that stood just outside of City Hall. "The nurse I just talked to said that Sean's father came in again this morning and informed the staff that…" she hesitated, barely believing it herself, "he's got a restraining order against Ella. She's not allowed within 100 feet of him and they've been instructed to call security if she shows up."
James's shot open so wide, Emma would have laughed if the circumstances weren't so awful. "A restraining order?" he bellowed. "Are you sure?"
"Oh believe me, I made her repeat it three times before I believed what I was hearing."
James crossed his arms, simply fuming on Thomas's behalf. "What in the hell is he thinking?" he muttered more to himself than to Emma.
She kept her hand on his shoulder. "He's…under the curse, James. He doesn't know what he's doing."
"Yeah but—" he started, and then looked down, heaving such a tired sigh that he looked about 10 years older than he had just a few minutes ago. "That's just…not…right."
She gulped, trying to think of something to say. He'd been so good the other night in calming her down – a natural father really. She couldn't believe how easily he fit the role, how often since her revelation at Teague's mansion she'd relied on his support. How much she wanted to repay that now. "Hey listen," she said softly. "We're gonna find the guy who did this to him," she said. "Or at least," she added a bit cryptically, "we're going to prove it."
James glanced up from beneath his brow. "What do you mean?"
Emma took a deep breath, not sure how much to reveal before she caught up with Graham. She'd tried contacting him by radio a few times right after she'd left the firehouse, but so far had no response. Seeing the pain in her father's eyes though, she wanted desperately to be able to give him something. "We…we have a suspect," she said.
"What?"
"…sort of."
"Who?"
Emma sighed, darting her gaze up and down the square before whispering, "Gaston."
"What?" James hissed, uncrossing his arms.
"Shh!" she scolded, her voice still low. "That's who I think did it anyway," she added.
"Why?" he asked. As far as he knew, Gaston had never even met Thomas (unless he counted the time they'd had to keep Adam from beating him to death).
"Well for one thing 'Jack Hunter' has scars and bruises all over the place." She paused, scuffing her boot against the rock hard dirt surrounding the gazebo.
"And…for another?" James leaned forward, sensing there was more to it than that.
Her eyes darted up, and then she asked quickly, "Do you know a guy named Shane Pilfer?"
"Umm," he shook his head, trying to keep up. "No, I don't think so."
Emma bit her lip. "What about Matt Clancy?"
He shook his head. "Sorry," he said sadly. "With the amnesia, I knew almost nothing about 'David', let alone his friends."
Emma frowned. "Right. Well, Shane's name keeps coming up in all of this. Graham was trying to track him down yesterday to see what he knew. And Matt Clancy's the paramedic who brought Sean in."
"What's the connection?"
"To what?"
James smiled. "Between this Shane person and Matt Clancy?"
"Oh," Emma cleared the lump in her throat. "Well, Matt said that Sean was muttering something before he blacked out. 'Find Shane' he said.
"Find Shane?"
Emma nodded.
James shook his head, trying to follow his daughter's train of thought. "Ok, but what does that have to do with Gaston?"
She swallowed hard, eyeing her father ruefully as she struggled with how to respond. The truth was, she wasn't exactly sure. She felt like she had pieces of information that somehow, she knew, all fit together. But she was missing something, something substantial that tied it all together. In the end, all she had was her gut. That's all she'd ever had. And glancing back up at James, she decided that would have to be enough. "Ok," she took a deep breath, gesturing for James to sit down on one of the steps of the gazebo as she joined him. "We know that Sean—or—Thomas," she corrected, "was beaten up right behind Garcon's. Jack's bar, right?"
James nodded.
"And according to Frederick, Jack Hunter was incredibly drunk that night to begin with. Belle had just quit."
Another nod. "Right."
Emma sucked in another breath. "Graham and I went to see Jack yesterday, and like I said, we saw bruises all over his face and arms. Obviously he was in some sort of fight. When we asked about it, he told us that he'd gotten in some stupid bar brawl with a customer and that Sean could attest to the whole thing. Pretty convenient having the one guy who can confirm your alibi in a coma, wouldn't you say?"
James leaned back against the guard rail, folding his arms. "Very convenient," he agreed.
"When we asked if he had any idea who might have attacked Sean, Jack is the one who first suggested Shane Pilfer. Graham told me Shane's some minor troublemaker he's caught gambling a few times in West End."
"Ok?"
"Now I thought it was just some wild goose chase Jack was sending us on," Emma went on, "some name that just popped into his head to deflect attention from himself."
"Makes sense."
"Right, but I find out from Matt Clancy just this morning, that Sean was muttering his name. Find Shane, he said."
James took a deep breath as his daughter pieced together her theory. "So this Shane guy definitely has something to do with the case. You're just not sure what."
"Well," she said, gearing up for part two of what was starting to sound an awful lot like a conspiracy theory. Her father didn't seem at all to be doubting her though, and if it made sense to him, then maybe she wasn't so far off the mark. "There's more," she continued.
For the next few minutes, Emma told James everything about her visit to the firehouse. She described Clancy and Davis in great detail. She told him about the feeling Clancy had had when he heard the 911 call, about how absolutely certain he was that Sean had some mystery rescuer. She even mentioned the strange connection she'd felt with Matt, the feeling that she knew him somehow, or was supposed to. When she was finished, she leaned back, waiting patiently for James to say something like, 'sorry daughter dear, I think you're reaching a bit too far.' But James said no such thing.
He sat there for a while, just thinking, trying to process all the information. His pensive silence was almost unnerving and Emma was thankful she had the cold to blame for why she couldn't keep her leg from twitching up and down. When at last he spoke, he did so slowly and methodically, feeling a bit like he was back in the mines with Grumpy, trying to crack the case. "So it sounds to me," he began, looking up at her, "like this Shane guy could very well be the man who called 911."
Emma perked up, her eyebrows raised high on her head.
"And that it's the first name that occurred to Gaston because it was Shane who stopped Gaston from beating Sean up in the first place."
"Yes!" Emma cried, elated. She'd been trying to articulate her theory all day and hadn't quite been able to put it all together.
"So Gaston actually gave you your best clue, Emma," James added, chuckling. "Which would make sense because that guy was never very bright."
She laughed. "And…Clancy's weird…phone call thing?"
He sighed. "I think you're right about that too. Whoever Clancy is from the old world probably knew Shane's alter ego. Shared some kind of connection that would explain how fervently he believes in what he heard."
Emma practically sighed in relief. She couldn't possibly have shared all this with Graham. It wouldn't have made any sense. Hell, it barely made sense to her. But talking it through with James…with her father, everything became clear. She supposed in a perfect world, a daughter shouldn't have to have to wait for some whacked out, criminal investigation in a town cursed by an evil witch in order to bond with her dad…but looking up at his supportive gaze, she suddenly wouldn't have wanted it any other way. "So whadyou think?" she asked.
James gripped the guard rail of the gazebo and hoisted himself to his feet, extending his arm to help her do the same. "I think you need to find Shane Pilfer."
Emma was about to respond when Graham's garbled voice through her CB radio startled them both.
"Emma?" came the Irish brogue. "Emmy you copy?"
Emma yanked the CB from her belt. "Graham where the hell have you been?"
"I need you to come down to the station. There's somethin' I think you should see."
…
***So you'll never guess where I've been….ITALY! That's right, I'm in Italy. I had to fly half way around the world to stumble out of my writer's block and get back on track with "Toll Bridge." To those of you so patiently waiting for Adam's reunion with Belle, I promise you it's right around the corner. But we have a bit more leg work to lay before the next huge climax in Storybrooke. I'm fairly certain it'll be worth the wait…but that's of course entirely up to you as readers!
Thank you as always to those of you who read every word and comment on every syllable. You have no idea how much you've kept me going. Most of you by now have figured out who Matt and Shane are. I can't wait to explore their part of this story and for Emma to go on this journey with them. Stay tuned for more Storybrooke fun. Coming up next, a much-awaited confrontation between Regina and Stiltskin, more with Thomas and Ella…and a very tense Christmas tree lighting celebration for James. Adios till then…or as we say in Italy…Ciao!***
