The Wooden Swan Cuckoo Clock

By Schroederplayspiano

Three-Fifteen am: Trying To Find A Way Down A Road We Don't Know

Cell phone buzzing jolts me awake. I try to grab it before the obnoxious noise wakes Henry in the bed next to me. As my finger stretches to turn off the power, I barely register the text message lighting up my screen:

STORYBROOKE POLICE DEPARTMENT:

EMERGENCY AT GRANNY'S DINER

Groaning, I drop the phone to the floor and pull the covers over my head. Never during my time in Storybrooke has any crazy fairytale creature disrupted the early morning eeriness. I flip over. What is the likelihood David was sent the same message? He is my deputy after all. Plus, last time I checked the man owed me a few favors.

I pull my legs tighter to my chest. I hope the diner isn't on fire or anything, because my willfulness to follow police protocol in the middle of the night is keeping me under the covers.

It buzzes again.

Damnit.

Throwing the covers off, my feet slide into rain boots propped against the foot of the bed. I reach for my raincoat that I dropped on the floor four hours ago. The walkie-talkie is still in one of its larger pockets, so I don't bother finding the cell phone I dropped in the pile of dirty clothes. After pulling the coat over my shoulders, I tiptoe to Henry's sleeping figure and give him a kiss on his forehead and slide out of our room.

Just as I predicted, Storybrooke's streets are barren. Rain pounds the cement, determined to break through it somehow. I drive past Mr. Gold's shop. He might be the only soul around I wouldn't be surprised to find awake, but there is no sign of him either. Starring at his illuminated shop's sign, I almost crash into Granny's fence. Somehow I'm not surprised to when he yells to stop me.

"Watch it!" August appears out of nowhere.

Breaks slam and disrupt the rain's evenly spaced patter. Wheels skew directions and headlights bang the fence. Their touch wiggles its posts. We both freeze and wait for the fence to fall. It sways back and forth. Once, twice, before settling down into its dirt grooves again.

Releasing the breath I was holding, I take my frustrations out on my keys. I turn them harder than necessary to kill the engine. Rain patters return. My gaze rises from the dashboard to August through the glass. He is soaking.

Anger, rather than concern, kicks the car door open. I am drenched before I slam it closed. "Keep your eyes open!"

"I should give you the same advice." He pushes himself up on the hood of my car like it was a warm summer's day instead of a rainy spring night. His hair sticks to his skin and I am suddenly reminded of carved hair like my cheap plastic doll had when I was a girl. I squint. No not a doll. The image of him now: propped up against my car with his hair glued to his head and his limps casually drooped around him, is the only time his human form has reminded me of a puppet.

"What are you doing here?" The rain takes away the harshness in my voice.

August crosses his arms and repositions himself on my hood. His legs spread out in front of him. There is a certain quality to his posture that makes me suspicious. It is too casual for three in the morning. Keeping his boyish attitude, he runs his fingers through his hair and asks. "What do you think I'm doing here?"

"Other than turning insane," I walk backwards towards the diner so I can keep my gaze on him. "I have no idea."

He smiles and leaps off the hood. "Oh, come on!" His arms fly across his chest before he runs to catch up with me. "You must know why I'm here."

"I have no idea why you're here." I reach Granny's overhang and revel that I don't have cold rain falling over me anymore. August leaps up the small steps and stops moving when we're inches apart. A small gasp parts my lips when our noses touch. His open mouth hovers over mine. Our eyes connect before I roll my head around his and look down his body. He is only wearing a t-shirt and jeans. The water has soaked his clothing and it clings to his skin, making all his muscles more visible than they usually would be. I gasp again before looking up at him.

His eyes twinkle at me in the darkness. The smirk on his face informs me that he knows every thought that passed through my mind in the last thirty seconds. A blush heats my cheeks and his smirks spreads to a youthful smile.

"Unless…" The intensity of his gaze causes me to lose my train of thought. "You…you somehow tweaked the Storybrooke Alert system last time…" August brings his face closer to mine and I can feel his breath on my lips. "…Last time you were in the station, which…" His nose brushes against my cheek before settling in the crook of my own. "Which…would be a…a complete violation of the rules."

"Well…" August's hands glide up my back. I shutter. I've forgotten the feel of his touch. Somehow, and without my permission, my own hands find their way to his chest. "You know me and rules."

"Yeah…" I say, although I have no idea what I am agreeing to. I lean into his nose and the tilt puts my lips right under his. Blinking, I manage to look at him before allowing my eyes to shut entirely.

His eyes are already closed and he is leaning further into me.

"Wait." I push against him and August jerks away from me. His hands lift from my back and his face retracts from my own. The warmth and safety of his touch is gone. Why did I stop him? Oh yeah... "You have to answer my questions."

His boyish grin returns, although I don't know why. He steps back, contented, as if my questioning him was in his plan. August crosses his arms and leans against the window molding. "Why?" He asks his infamous question.

I stomp my foot. August's grin widens. He watches me pull the keys to Granny's diner from my police keychain. I place it in the keyhole and turn the lock.

Everything is in its proper place. There is no sign of a disturbance. Even though I know it's a waste of time, I circled the diner and check for anything out of the ordinary.

"It's no use," August gives voice to my thoughts.

I turn to face him. His eyebrows are raised, wondering how long I am going to entertain the idea a real crime was committed here. "Why?" I try to mimic his innocent tone. "Are you the one who called in the crime?"

He stares at me straight-faced. "Very possible."

"Uh-huh," I nod and he breaks a smile. I watch him across the diner. He walks to sit at the counter and he spins his stool around with his arms spread out. I like him like this. He's a little mischievous, sure, but innocent all the same. Most important, I feel his happiness from across the room. Slowly I walk behind the counter, letting his immature decisions influence my behavior. "And what crime are you reporting?"

August flings his arms on the countertop to stop. He raises an index finger to me and then motions to the covered pie plate next to him. "You did not have your dessert with your dinner tonight. You were eyeing this pie all through dinner and yet, you did not order it. That, my Princess Emma, is a crime."

I purse my lips. He was here, watching me, while I ate dinner with my family? How could I not have noticed him? Usually I have my August-radar on so high that I turn whenever I see a man with black hair cross my path.

Since we have been apart, I have made a list of comebacks to throw back at him. I scroll down it in my head while another comeback forms. "Tell me, Mr. Booth," I lean on the countertop playfully, "Do you know that tricking a cop into breaking and entering with you is still a crime?"

August leans into the counter. When our noses threaten touching again, I pull back. The hunger is still in his gaze as we look at each other and I can't breathe.

"The only crime here," he reaches for the pie plate and starts unwrapping the tinfoil. "Is that you did not have your cherry pie this evening." August levels my gaze. "And I know that you have a thing for cherry pie."

I retreat from him. Cherry pie. He remembered. The memory flashes before my eyes at his insinuation:

The rain came down in sheets that night. Past midnight already, I was already late for my shift at the diner – once again.

I saw his motorcycle headlight approaching me, but figured I'd run ahead of it since every minute I was late counted against me.

He stopped right before his tire ran over my boot. "Watch it!" I yelled at the motorcycle man who almost ran over my pregnant belly.

"Sorry. I didn't see you." He said.

"Well, next time," I continued yelling in the downpour. "Keep your eyes open."

Then we made eye contact and both froze.

"Emma?" He whispered.

I squint to attempt a better look at the man. He didn't look familiar…and yet even with the sheets of rain between us, I felt like I knew him. "Do we know each other?"

"No." He lied. There was an awkward pause between us. I wondered why I stood out there in the rain, pregnant, exposing myself to illness…but I knew somehow.

"Did anyone ever tell you that you are a bad liar?"

Sighing, he took his helmet off. The rain instantly latched to his hair. "I'm not a liar," he told me.

"Okay," I shrugged off his comment. Turning from him, my attention diverted to the diner two hundred feet away. The warmth of baked good lured me in its direction. I look back at him for some reason and that's when I knew I was in trouble. The depth of his blue eyes trips me forward. I remember thinking; even then, there was something magical about them. I didn't believe in magic, but I believed in his eyes. "Are you going to come in?" I hated myself for asking. "We have a cherry pie that's to die for."

He looked between the diner and me. He stopped to focus on my pregnant belly. "Oh, no…" He hesitated. "Thanks."

"Are you sure?" I can't believe I begged him to stay. "The cook claims his cherry pie is so good, it'll make anyone who tastes it believe in magic."

"Oh, really?" He teased and leaned forward on his bike. "And is this from personal experience?"

"Yes." I told him with confidence despite the fact I've never tasted it.

He laughed at me. Reaching for his helmet, he taunted me, "Who's lying now?"

"So…you do know me?" I clarified.

"No," he lied again and motioned to my nametag. "I can read."

I looked down my rain-soaked dress and notice my name sown to it. By the time I look up again, he was gone.

After that night I could always tell the difference between the truthful and the liars – the true and the fake.

August reaches for a plate behind the counter to serve me that last piece of cherry pie and places it between us. He looks down at the plate hoping to redirect my attention but all I can do is stare at him. "What do you say, Princess? You never can have too much magic in your life." He motions to the pie but freezes when he catches my intense gaze.

"You're the only one who can call me that…" I admit breathlessly.

August, still frozen, blinks. "Doc calls you that all the time."

"No." My chest tightens. My breaths shorten. "Not like you do."

"Yeah, well," August shrugs off the moment. "That's just because my social status is so low in this town I know better."

He draws me to him. "That's not why…" I whisper.

I wait for him to speak. He doesn't. To encourage him, I reach my palm to his cheek; my thumb strokes his moist skin. He closes his eyes to absorb my touch.

"You the only one who sees me, August." I remind him. "You're the only one who ever did."

I'm surprised when his head shakes in my palm. "That's not true…"

"Then what is?" I whisper and watch my thumb on his cheek. "Tell me what's true, Pinocchio."

He looks at me deeply. His longing scares me, but in a good way. The knots in my stomach tighten to the point where they could prevent me from breathing. Suddenly, I'm aware there's a countertop separating us. "The only truth I know is how much I love you." He takes a deep breath. "That's all I ever knew."

A tear forms behind my eye. I can't resist him anymore. I wrap my fingers behind his ear to pull him to me. His desire flows out of him the more we come together. I push myself further onto the countertop. Electricity buzzes between us. It takes forever for our lips to touch.

The light switch clicks on and I jump. Once I adjust to the brightness I see Ruby at the diner's back entrance. "Sorry!" Her eyes bulge and a blush colors her cheeks. "I heard a noise – and I didn't mean to interrupt – and -" her forehead creases, she motions to Granny's front door. "How did you get in here?"

The next two minutes are a blur to me. I regain the ability to think when I am halfway home. A cramp pulling my ribcage tells me how fast I ran away. "Emma!" August calls after me, but I can't answer. All I can do is turn a corner to hide from him – To hide from everything.

A/N: Wow! My reviewers are incredible! Thank so much for such detailed responses and high praises, they mean so much. The August/Emma fans are, hands down, the most thoughtful fans out there. I'm going to miss you guys.