SO, IT'S GOING TO TAKE A LITTLE MORE TIME THAN I THOUGHT TO GET TO THE RED VOW RENEWAL, BUT TRUST ME, THE WAIT WILL BE WORTH IT.
THANK YOU TO ALL MY LOVELY REVIEWERS, PARICULARLY Marrilyn and ravenclaw312, YOU GUYS ARE AWESOME.
AS ALWAYS, IF THERE'S ANYTHING YOU WANT TO SEE, LET ME KNOW-I WILL TRY MY DAMNEDEST TO WORK IT IN AT SOME POINT! OKAY, HAVE FUN, KIDS.
Whale whistled as he opened the door to Examination Room A, his clipboard tucked under his arm. "Morning, Roland," he said cheerily to the dark-haired little boy perched on the examination table. His father hovered nearby, rubbing his thumb over his mouth worriedly.
Whale continued whistling as he dropped in his chair and kicked off to wheel over to Roland. "What's wrong, buddy?" he said, pulling out his little flashlight and immediately checking his nose for little toys: Roland had a penchant for putting tiny objects in his nose, which earned him frequent visits to Dr. Whale.
"He's got this rash on his arm," Robin explained, his face still creased in worry. "It's been there for a few days now, but it hasn't gotten any better."
Whale nodded slowly; Robin was a bit of a hypochondriac when it came to his son. Normally, he found it a little annoying, seeing as he had other patients with far bigger worries to attend to, but he was in too good a mood today to really care.
"Does he have any allergies?" he asked, checking Roland's ears.
"Well, he may be allergic to peanuts," Robin said, smoothing his son's hair anxiously. "He always spits them out."
Whale raised his eyebrows. "Does he ever get any symptoms after eating peanuts? A rash, tongue swelling—"
"No, no, no! Nothing!" Robin said, shaking his head. Whale tried not to smile.
"Then my guess would be he just doesn't like peanuts," he said gently. "It's okay, Robin. It's an acquired taste."
Robin didn't see him roll his eyes as he wheeled back for his prescription pad. "And the rash?"
"Looks like poison ivy," Whale said, scribbling on the pad. He ripped off the sheet and handed it to Robin. "Should clear up pretty soon."
Robin squinted down at the sheet. "Why is doctors' handwriting always so hard to read?" he asked, shaking his head.
"It's part of the training," Whale told him seriously. "Your handwriting has to be illegible."
Robin looked up, smiling uncertainly. "Right…."
"No, it's true. That's the whole reason I became a doctor," Whale said, standing up. "My handwriting sucked so much when I was a kid, they told me this was the only field that would take me."
Robin helped Roland hop down from the table. "Well, regardless—thanks very much, doctor. Hopefully Roland won't go wandering off through the woods without Daddy again," he said, giving Roland a stern look.
"Have a good one, guys," Whale said as they walked out, then grabbed his clipboard and resumed whistling.
His good mood continued through the whole day: he brightly smiled at his patients, he hummed as he strode through the corridors, and he didn't curse or kick the vending machine once (even when it denied him his SunChips).
"Afternoon, ladies," he said brightly to the nurses in the break room, who were busy gossiping about Storybrooke's latest. One of them—Marge, actually— turned around, looking at him in surprise.
"Someone's in a good mood," she said interestedly.
Whale shrugged, smiling as he poured himself a coffee. "I've been feeling good lately."
"Oh…" she said, smiling slyly. "I know what it is…"
Whale snorted. "I'm fairly confident you don't." No one, not even Marge, would ever guess the reason behind his good mood: that he had found himself a perfect roommate in the recently resurrected Sheriff Graham.
Whale would come home to a fresh home-cooked meal every night, no matter the hour. Every morning, he would wake up to the sound of the coffee already percolating and smell it waft throughout the whole house. Yesterday, he'd even been pleasantly surprised when the smell of chocolate chip cookies greeted him when he opened the door.
And Graham did more than cook: he cleaned the entire house, did the yard work—he even did dusting, for God's sake. And when Whale got home and dug into his gourmet meal, he would sit with him and ask him about his day.
Sometimes, on his night off, they would watch television together, laughing uproariously at stupid comedies and gasping at badass action movies. It was nice to finally do that with someone, instead of by himself with only late-night takeout to keep him company.
Of course, it wasn't all goofing around. Henry came by pretty much every day, so he and Whale could school Graham on the happenings of Storybrooke. Everything was so different than how it was before Graham died, they felt that some pre-adjustment was necessary. They still didn't know how they were going to tell people that Henry had managed to bring him back, but that was a bridge they didn't have to cross just yet.
"Dr. Whale?" Marge prodded him with her finger. "Are you all right?"
"Hmm? Oh, yeah. I'm fine," he said, blinking as he returned to the present. "What were we talking about?"
"I said, 'what's her name?'" Marge said as the other nurse smiled at him knowingly. Whale looked back, bemused.
"Who's name?"
"Your new girlfriend!"
Whale choked on his coffee. "Girlfriend?" he repeated."Oh, wow. No. It's not—no, you're way off. It's just…." He waved his hand, struggling to think of a story. "It's this new deodorant," he said finally. "It's empowering."
"All right, fine," Marge shrugged, still smiling. "Don't tell me. I'll let you keep your secret girlfriend to yourself for now. But I'll find out eventually," she added in a sing-song voice, wagging her finger at him.
"Okay, then," he chuckled nervously.
When he got home, he saw Henry's bike leaning against the side of the house in its usual spot. Whale whistled as he went up the steps, pausing only to check the mail: bills, grocery ads, that nature magazine Graham had subscribed to…
"Hey, guys," he called, opening the front door and tossing the mail on the front table.
"Hey, Dr. Whale," Henry called back in his adolescent monotone.
"Evening, Victor!" Graham said brightly, beaming when he entered the kitchen. Whale sniffed the air, closing his eyes in pleasure.
"Okay, I don't know what you're making, but it smells like rainbow hugs and happiness," he said, plopping down in the chair next to Henry. He jutted his chin at him. "'S'up, Henry?"
Henry half-smiled. "Meh," he shrugged. "Nothing, really. I've got some lame-ass paper to finish later, so that kind of sucks, but whatever."
Whale frowned. "Well, look, Henry, if you've got homework to do, maybe you should go home. I mean, school is more—"
"No, no, no, it's fine," Henry said quickly.
Whale raised his eyebrows skeptically.
"I'm serious," Henry said, laughing unconvincingly. "Helping Graham readjust is way more important than my literary opinion on Othello. It's okay, it's nearly finished, anyway."
Whale didn't feel altogether reassured. "Is it?"
"Yes," Henry said. "I've only got the conclusion to do, that's it. It'll take me five minutes." He smiled brightly. "And look, I got the board finished last night."
Whale looked at the poster board Henry proudly presented him, rather impressed: it was a diagram of what amounted to Henry's family tree, explaining his lineage from Rumplestiltskin to Snow and Charming, factoring in the multi-faceted Regina relationship, tracing the complicated past between Hook and Neal, all through Belle… Whale blinked a few times, feeling disoriented by the mess of lines.
"Jesus, Henry… you're going to make a fortune at your graduation," he said, in awe of the sheer quantity of familial ties attached to this kid.
"I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed," Graham remarked, stirring his mystery stew. Whale got up, looking toward the pot interestedly, but Graham smacked his hand and pointed the spoon at him threateningly. "Uh-uh-uh—you can wait."
"Just a little?" Whale pleaded.
"No."
"Please?"
"I told you, no."
"You guys are literally married," Henry snorted, shaking his head.
Whale instantly remembered Marge's earlier comment, accusing him of a secret girlfriend. He blew out a breath slowly, reflecting that it was kind of pathetic that Graham was probably the best girlfriend he'd ever had. Maybe it was time to take a closer look at those emails he kept getting from .
Graham lowered the heat, so his stew could simmer, and leaned against the counter. "All right," he said, folding his arms. "I'm ready."
Henry propped his board up on the table, then took a plastic green lightsaber out of his backpack. "It was all I could find for a pointer," he said defensively when Whale raised his eyebrows.
"All right…"
"What?"
"Nothing, nothing," Whale shrugged, and waved his hand at him. "Go on, young Jedi. Educate the mortal."
"That would be me," Graham added helpfully.
Henry spared Whale a last disparaging look before turning back to his board."So," he said, thwacking it with his lightsaber. "You know my biological mom, Emma—"
"Emma…" Graham had a little smile on his face, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I remember her. She's got moxie," he grinned at Whale.
"Mmm."
"Fire, you know? Passion—"
"Okay, good, you know Emma!" Henry said loudly. "Now, this—" he moved the saber—"is my dad, Neal. He's awesome," he added, smiling fondly at the picture.
"And has lingering feelings for Emma," Graham said, carefully neutral.
Henry's eyebrows rose. "Yeah… ?"
Graham nodded slowly. "Interesting."
Henry exchanged a look with Whale, but didn't pursue the matter. "Anyway," he said, clearing his throat. "These two are my mom's parents, Snow and Charming—you know them as Mary Margaret and David. And Snow is Regina's step-daughter. So that makes Regina my step-grandmother, as well as my adopted mother. With me so far?"
Graham furrowed his brow, absorbing Henry's words, then nodded again.
"Now, on my dad's side, we've got his parents: Rumplestiltskin—Mr. Gold, to you— and Milah, okay? But they split, so now Rumplestiltskin is married to Belle—you haven't met her—and Milah was with Hook until she died two hundred some years ago. So Hook, is Neal's unofficial stepfather, which makes him my unofficial step-grandfather. But Belle is my official step-grandmother because she and Rumplestiltskin got married a few years ago. Plus, she and Hook have this really weird friendship going on, so do with that what you will. Questions?"
"Yeah, a few," Graham said, looking confused now. "So…Hook is Neal's stepfather… because he was with his mother two hundred years ago?"
"He lived in Neverland and shit," Whale yawned, leaning back in his seat. "So did Neal… and Rumplestiltskin, he's been kicking around since the dawn of time, so…"
"And yet, both Neal and this—" Graham looked at Hook's picture disapprovingly—"this Hook are pursuing your mother?"
Henry frowned. "Well, yeah, but Hook pursues—" he made air-quotes—"anything breathing, so don't jump to conclusions." He looked at his board, tilting his head thoughtfully. "Plus, my mom and dad are going to get back together eventually."
Oh, boy. Whale sucked in a breath. "Just don't count on it, Henry. Adult relationships are a lot more complicated than—"
"Dr. Whale, please!" Henry said exasperatedly, holding up his hand. "My parents are getting back together, okay?"
"Okay, listen, Henry," Whale said carefully, leaning forward in his chair. "I know you want to think that, I just don't want you to be crushed if—"
"GETTING. BACK. TOGETHER," Henry said stubbornly, thwacking the board with every word. Whale sighed, rubbing his eyes.
"All right, Henry," he said resignedly, leaning back in his seat. Henry glared at him, still breathing hard.
"Any other questions, Graham?" he asked, not taking his eyes off Whale.
"Yes." Graham pointed to Hook's picture hesitantly, frowning. "Is he wearing eyeliner?"
"Yep," Whale said, flicking his eyes to the picture.
"Er…may I ask why?"
Henry lifted his eyes, shrugging as he considered. "You may," he said finally. "But no one really knows."
Graham nodded slowly, still looking confused. "Okay…"
"You get used to it," Whale assured him.
"Don't fixate on him, he's not that important anyway," Henry scoffed. "All you have to know about him is he's there, and he has a gift for making things uncomfortable and weird."
Graham raised his eyebrows at the hostility in Henry's voice, glancing at Whale for an explanation. Whale shrugged, waving his hand.
"He's kind of a slut, and he hits on the kid's mom all the time," he said in a low voice. "And you saw how he feels about his parents giving it another go, so—"
"Dr. Whale! Please!" Henry said loudly. "I thought we discussed this!"
"It was my fault, Henry," Graham said quickly. "Won't happen again, I promise. Shall we go on?"
Henry frowned suspiciously, then nodded. "All right, let's keep going," he agreed. He pointed the lightsaber at Regina. "Now, according to my book, Regina's mom—Cora—also had a thing going with Rumplestiltskin at one point, so it's possible I'm going to find out about some…" He squeezed his eyes shut, thinking hard. "Some adoptive aunt or uncle, who would also be my step-great aunt or uncle, running around Storybrooke. In case those two had any kids. Fingers crossed, they didn't, because that would be one unholy union, let me tell you." Henry paused to take a sip of water. "God, my throat is getting sore, explaining all this,
he said, massaging his throat. "Okay, so anyway…"
Henry explained for another twenty minutes about all the familial connections he knew about: he went back at least a century, explaining why this person hated that person, why this thing made it awkward for those two to sit at a party together, who slept with who a long time ago and made everything complicated about who this person's real father was, and so on. Whale drifted off somewhere around Princess Eva, and woke up just as Henry was finishing the story of Rumplestiltskin's father, Malcolm.
"But, alas, he is no longer with us, so I guess we'll never know," Henry said, snapping the lightsaber shut. "Questions?"
Graham stared at him openmouthed, his eyes bloodshot. His undone tie was hanging loosely around his neck, and his hair was sticking up, as though he had run his fingers anxiously through it. "Uh…"
"Damn it!" Henry said suddenly, looking at the clock. "I was supposed to be home twenty minutes ago! Damn it!" He continued swearing under his breath as he gathered his things and shoved them in his backpack.
"I'll see you guys tomorrow, okay?" were his last words before he shot out of the house. Whale blinked a few times, a little startled by the suddenness of his departure, and turned to Graham.
"Okay, let me explain to you the important things now," he said, getting up to taste the stew. "So, the available ladies in Storybrooke are as follows: Tink—I'd give her around a nine; Mulan—solid ten, but she might be into ladies, no one ever really cleared that up for me; Ruby—another ten, but she may or may not be available, I'll have to ask Marge…"
