I want to thank everyone for taking the time to review!

Holy hell, guys, it took me literally years to get this chapter out. Loses in my life certainly helped in that, (those who have read a few of my other stories will know what I mean), but the pandemic sure as fuck didn't help anything. Speaking of which, I ask all of you to PLEASE WEAR YOUR MASKS IN PUBLIC! It's not just your health your putting at risk by being negligent, but others' too.

That said, welcome to Episode/Chapter 7, better known as the one where Graham tragically gets his heart crushed by Regina. If I'm being honest, I've never really forgiven Reggie for this, but what will always unsettle me the most is the fact that she basically raped him for 30+ years. I mean, that's seriously fucked up! And it really pissed me off that Regina never had to answer for that, nor even for killing Graham in the end. If he hadn't spared Snow White, all of this *waves at the entirety of the show's events* wouldn't have happened! The Huntsman deserves justice!

Also, I've spotted some Rose Tea™ shippers out there already. (Finally figured out a name for this pairing) Now, I feel it's only fair to warn you that Rose Tea is not in cards at this time. I might dally in it, but I seriously doubt it'll bloom into anything serious. I've been hinting who Rose will be paired with since the first chapter, although I tried being subtle about it. It's a shame my shipname for them is not as catchy as Rose Tea.

Also, this is my longest chapter to date.

SO. MANY. DAMN. WORDS.

Chapter 7: The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter

November 8, 2011: Storybrooke

When Graham needed to think hard about something, whether for work or something more personal, he would always go to Granny's, play darts, and tell Ruby to keep bringing his usual choice of poison until he couldn't hit the target anymore. It's something he could easily do at home or the station. He has his own dartboard for when the hours drag on and the town is quiet, which it usually is. He could buy a bottle of Jim Bean from the local liquor store, lock himself up at the station, and brood in solitude.

The thing is, Graham hates being alone when he's feeling introspective.

He threw two darts, one after the other, at Granny's makeshift dartboard. It was just a torn-out magazine clipping of a deer glued to a cutout of Styrofoam, but he knew that it was made for him, so he can't help liking the ugly little thing. Honestly, he's hardly paying his actions any real attention, but muscle memory ensured he at least hits the deer. Instead, his thoughts were focused on the three most troublesome, headstrong women he knows—Regina, Emma, and Rose.

"Nice shot, chief. I bet you twenty bucks you can't do it again." Sidney called from somewhere behind him. He glances backwards to acknowledge the reporter before turning around wordlessly. Graham picked up the third dart, took aim with a completely steady hand, and let loose. The dart hits the deer in the head this time, a perfect bullseye. He doesn't bother to see the sour expression Sidney has to be making. Graham's aware that the reporter has feelings for Regina and holds him in contempt for being the one to share her bed.

"Next round's on him." He mutters to Ruby as he gratefully downed the latest tumbler of bourbon. It was his fourth one in an hour and Graham knew he needed to slow it down or else he'll end up stumbling home tonight. Alcohol was an old friend of his though. The numbness that gradually clouded his mind matched the hollowness in his chest. Tossing the drink back, he picked up another dart and went to throw again, only to freeze in place as Rose and Emma stepped into the diner through the back entrance.

Graham's gaze lands on his deputy first, who, unsurprisingly, is sporting the same glare she'd worn for the past two days at the station. However, he feels a pang of relief when his sights shift onto Rose. Her pretty amber eyes don't hold any disgust or contempt, unlike her sister's fiery hazel-green irises. Rose wasn't looking at him any differently. He hoped that meant Emma hadn't told her about him and Regina.

"Hey guys." Ruby said in greeting. "What can I get you?" Rose opened her mouth, a grin already forming on her lips, when his deputy jabs her in the side none too subtly.

"Nothing." Emma answered stoically, her condemning stare never leaving him. "We were just passing through." Grabbing her sister by the hand, she immediately began marching towards the front entrance. Graham watched them go, his mouth feeling unbearably dry as his throat tightened with an emotion he couldn't name. He could never tell what he was feeling these days.

Hell, sometimes he wondered if he felt anything at all.

More out of instinct than anything else, he whirled around, and with a quick flick of his wrist, the dart cut across the room, hitting its mark on the doorframe a few inches from Emma's head. The sisters stilled in surprise, their equally sharp gazes homing in on the dart almost instantly. He hardly noticed the whole diner going silent.

"What the hell?!" His deputy exploded as she spun towards him. "You could've hit us!" From beside Emma, Rose let a low appreciative whistle. She smirked at him, eyes alight with mirth, and he couldn't help but feel emboldened by her reaction.

"I never miss." He assured them as he approached. "You've been avoiding me since you saw me–" Graham cut himself off, mentally cursing all the alcohol he'd downed. He hadn't meant to say that aloud, not with a diner full of eavesdropping citizens, and especially not in front of Rose.

"Leaving the mayor? And yes, that is a euphemism." Emma sniped back, and his gaze fearfully jumped to Rose, but she doesn't look surprised, nor angry. She was watching him without any expressions on her face and his stomach twisted uncomfortably in response. "I'm not avoiding you, Graham, I'm giving you the cold shoulder." With one last scowl the blonde left the diner, dragging her unusually silent sister along with her.

He stared after them, feet stuck in place as the diner broke out into a low murmur. Come tomorrow the whole town would know about his relationship with Regina, if they hadn't known already. She would be furious, but Graham found he couldn't care less about that right now. Heedless to the second wave of rumors he would incite, he darted outside, jumped over the steps, and quickly caught up with the sisters.

"I'm sorry." He gasped as he stepped in front of them, most of his attention being focused on Rose. Emma was having none of that though as she placed herself in-between them. "I didn't mean to upset you—either of you."

"We're not upset." Emma replied as she all but pushed him aside and continued to march down the sidewalk. Rose dogged her steps, her face still giving nothing away. She wasn't smirking, frowning, or glaring, and Graham didn't know what to make of that. Nor of her ongoing silence. He had a sinking feeling that it didn't mean anything good though.

"If that were true, you'd be at the bar with me, having a drink and not running away."

"It's none of our business." His deputy hissed through gritted teeth. "Really." Graham almost smiled. He hadn't thought that Emma would be such a bad liar. But even though he was obviously making her angrier by pursuing them, Graham wasn't about to give up just yet. He needed to explain. There wasn't anything real between him and Regina. It was a realization he'd slowly been coming to over the past two weeks. He felt nothing for her—not love, fondness, or even a friendly warmth. It was almost like having sex with Regina was just another part of his job.

"Look, can we please talk about this?" He implored as he finally got the pair to stop near the closed library. "I need you to understand."

"Why?!" Emma barked back.

"I don't know! Maybe so I can understand?" As soon as he said it, Graham knew that was the wrong thing to say, even if it was the truth. He didn't know why he was with Regina. That wasn't normal, right?

"If you need an analysis, go talk to Archie." His deputy spat, preparing to retake her sister's hand.

"I want to talk to you two!" He shouted, trying to stall them. His frantic eyes landed on Rose, who surprised him by placing a hand on his arm, squeezing it lightly in comfort. Emma, oblivious to the small action, responded with an amazing amount of vitriol.

"Your bad judgment is your problem, not ours." He turned towards the blonde, but never stopped being aware of Rose's hand. He'd left his jacket in the diner, and his sleeves were still rolled up from his game of darts. Her hand radiated heat against the bare skin of his forearm. He didn't know if it was her gentle touch or the brisk night air that sent a shiver through his body.

"You don't know what it's like with her. I don't feel anything! Can you understand that?" He asked, his voice breaking a little at that confession. Rose's grip tightened for a moment before he felt her hand drop away.

"A bad relationship?" Emma remarked caustically, though her expression eased up a little. "Yeah, I understand a bad relationship. I just don't want to talk about yours." Her glower returned with a vengeance. "And you're not going to drag my sister into the middle of it."

"Look," He began again, swallowing hard. "I know you guys and Regina have your own issues and—and I should have told you about us before you took the job–"

"Yeah, why the secrecy?" Emma demanded heatedly, and Graham tried not to wince. Despite how his deputy kept denying otherwise, it was clear that the hidden affair truly bothered her. And it's not like he didn't understand why. They were supposed to be partners, but he lied to her; and worst yet, he used her and abused her trust. "We're all adults. You can do whatever the hell you want."

"…I didn't want you or Rose to look at me the way you are now." He admitted lowly.

"Why do you care how we look at you?"

"Because I–" The rest of his words died in his throat, but they rang true in his head. 'I like Rose. I want her to like me.' This realization surprised Graham so much, it practically left him breathless as he stared at the shorter woman, blindsided by this revelation. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he had feelings for someone, strong ones that filled him up with something he couldn't name. It made him want to move. It made him want to reach out and–

He barely heard Emma's exclamation as his hands suddenly grabbed Rose by the shoulders and pulled her towards him. There was a split second when her eyes widened, and maybe he'd just caught her by surprise, but she didn't try to move away. That meant something, right?

Any doubts Graham might've had faded the moment his lips touched hers. The familiar hollowness in his chest that had always been there was nonexistent in that moment. For a single second, everything was perfect, everything felt right. He instinctively moved to deepen the kiss, one hand moving with the intent to entangle itself in her hair—A wolf stood before him, its fur gray and white. One yellow eye stared at him while the other shone blood-red—Graham gasped as he staggered away from Rose. He blinked rapidly, belatedly realizing that he hadn't moved on his own, but that Emma had pushed him away from her sister.

"What the hell was that?!" His deputy shouted, sounding absolutely furious, but Graham couldn't drag his gaze away from Rose, who stared back at him with wide eyes, looking just as out of breath as he felt.

"Did you see that?" The question slipped past his teeth without consent, and he instantly felt annoyed with himself. Really, he just kissed her and that's what his addled brain decided to go with?! Of course, she hadn't seen whatever the hell that was! Strangely though, where he would've expected her to be just as baffled as himself, Rose seemed to grow pale.

Graham should've been paying more attention to Emma however, then maybe he could've dodged the punch thrown his way. The blow knocked him down to the sidewalk, leaving his vision spinning and his jaw throbbing. It was one hell of a right hook. A part of him couldn't help feeling a little proud of his partner. At least now he knew she'd be able to handle herself in a fight.

"How much have you been drinking?! That was way over the line!" Emma seethed, and he struggled to sit up. The ground seemed to be moving under him however, leaving Graham unable to find his sense of balance. "If you ever try that again–"

"Emma, that's enough." Rose stated, finally speaking, but it wasn't in a tone Graham had ever heard from her. He didn't even know she could sound so serious—so cold. It was effective though. Emma went from incensed to compliant in a span of seconds. He could see it in her body language. Seconds ago, she'd been tense and aggressive, ready to pounce at him like a mountain lion. Now, she was hunched in on herself, all but baring her neck in submissiveness. "I can defend my own honor, sis."

"But he–"

"Didn't do anything I didn't allow." Rose interrupted, her voice still lacking any of the warmth, humor, or sarcasm that he was familiar with. "Why don't you head back to Granny's? Get some hot coco. I'll join you in a bit."

"Are you sure?" His deputy asked almost timidly. Rose grinned suddenly, as if her moment of seriousness had never existed, and Graham watched, feeling at a loss as Emma shook off her uncharacteristic meekness with just as much ease.

"Sure, I'm sure. Now go on, have some fun Swan Lake. I know I will." She wiggled her eyebrows, her voice dropping into a seductive tone that instantly got his blood racing. The look she aimed his way, however, lacked in heat or desire, which just left him feeling even more off balanced.

"Ugh, fine, whatever." The blonde grunted as she turned on her heel to make her way back to Granny's. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" Emma warned over her shoulder and Rose sniggered.

"If I did that, I'd never have any fun!" She called after her sister before dropping down beside him. Oh right, he was still sprawled out on the sidewalk. "Sorry about Emma, she can be a bit overprotective. Although, I'm sure she'd tell you that I'm a hundred times worse." Her hand touching his shoulder had Graham jerking out of the dazed state he'd slipped into, and with Rose's help, he quickly regained his footing.

"I'm sorry, I just–" He grunted as his jaw pulsed with pain and Rose hummed in sympathy.

"Ooh, yeah, that's gonna bruise something awful tomorrow." She gingerly prodded the injury and Graham struggled to make sense of the last few moments. He hadn't meant to kiss Rose like that, but something wonderful had leapt in his chest and he couldn't control himself. He opened his mouth to explain as much, but when he caught sight of her, of those golden irises studying him with such… compassion, Graham found himself rendered speechless once more. Closing his eyes, he leaned into her hand and released a husky sounding sigh.

"…I just wanted to feel something." He whispered after a long moment, eyelids reluctantly flickering open to watch her through his lashes. He saw Rose's eyebrows furrow, clearly not knowing how to respond to his words. That was fair. He didn't know what he wanted her to say.

"…What did you see?" She asked cautiously, and he pulled back a little, the question taking him off guard.

"What?"

"After the kiss, you asked: "Did you see that?" What did you see, Graham Cracker?" She seemed anxious for some reason and he mustered a crooked smile at the nickname. He shouldn't find it so endearing, but the sudden burst of warmth in his chest couldn't be mistaken for anything else.

"Nothing, I didn't see anything." The sheriff denied. In truth, he'd mostly forgotten what he'd imagined, though the color red lingered in the back of his mind. "Emma's probably right. I drank too much." He hesitated, unsure of how to continue. "Listen, about the kiss–"

"You don't regret it, do you?" She asked plainly, and Graham was grateful that she was treating this seriously.

"No, not even a little." He replied truthfully. Graham just didn't know where this left them, or he with Regina. The thought of ending whatever he and the mayor had was admittedly more than a little appealing. He'd never felt anything with Regina and yet one kiss with Rose had been the most passionate sensation he could ever remember feeling. Just thinking about it made him want to steal another kiss. He didn't, but only because he doubted he'd stop if he got a second taste.

"So, where do we go from here?"

"I break it off with Regina." Graham answered automatically and Rose made the oddest expression before settling on biting her lower lip. He tried not to stare.

"Are you sure? She'll be pissed." He shook his head.

"There was never anything between us." He confessed, feeling a bit ashamed of himself. "It was just sex." Rose must've noticed, because she smiled.

"I'm not the judgmental type, Graham Cracker." She then reached out, hooking her fingers into the edges of his vest, and tugged him downwards to place a kiss on his cheek, taking care to avoid the budding bruise along his jawline. "You talk to Regina, and after that, we'll go on a date. Sound good?"

"It sounds perfect." He agreed, barely aware of how raspy his tone was. Rose chuckled into his ear, and it caused warm shivers to ripple down his back. God, how could this woman make him feel so much this quickly after being empty for so long? It was like something out of a fairytale. "I'll talk to her tomorrow. Promise."

May 16, 1981: Enchanted Forest

The Huntsman tired not to huddle into his cloak as he left the Evil Queen's bedchamber. He ignored the guardsmen's eyes following him, disgustingly self-aware of the sweat and scents the clung to his skin. It was a nauseating mixture of the Queen's perfume and the stench of sex, all the while underlined with taste of bile that lingered in the back his mouth. Regina had been using him like this for years now, he should be used to the way his flesh crawled and how dead he felt inside. Yet somehow, he never failed to recognize the broken shards of shame that dug into him after every one of their trysts.

Entering his chambers, and numb to the numerous pains that ailed him, the Huntsman peeled off his sullied clothes and made for the basin in the corner, using the fresh water to scrub off the remains of her filth. It was routine. He'd washed himself like this for over six years now. He knew this, not because he kept track of the days that passed, such a thing had never mattered to him before, but because Regina never failed to inform him the anniversary of the first time. She always christened these days with a night full of debauchery.

He remembered he'd thrown up the first time the Evil Queen made him pleasure her—forcing his body to find it pleasurable as well as she gripped his heart tightly with one hand. Then she'd commanded him to never get sick like that again. It didn't stop the queasiness that bubbled in his stomach, nor the bile that burned his throat raw, but it was always left unable to break free.

The Huntsman grimaced as he leaned over the basin, fingernails scratching at the pottery as he tried to summon forth more than just the shallow echoes of emotions that resided inside him. The shame, whilst always present after their trysts, was a diminished feeling, negligible when it should be tremendous and ultimately fed into the rage he could not reach. This numbness was nothing new. He'd felt like this ever since she'd ripped his heart from his chest. Perhaps, worst of all, he was always conscious of the hollowness. It was so all-consuming, that there were often times where he forgot what it was like to experience emotions at their sincerest form.

Truthfully, he would have ended his own miserable existence long ago, had the Queen not commanded otherwise.

With a tired sigh, the Huntsman continued with his ritual cleaning, the motions lacking the fervor he tried to emulate and coming off as more of a rushed chore. Once done, he tossed the dirty water out the window and fetched himself some new clothes. Regina may be done with him for physical pleasuring, but she'd ordered him to stand guard over her latest prisoner as he'd left her chambers. It wasn't that unusual for Regina to take captives, but only when they could be of some use to her.

As he headed towards his destination, he pondered over what made this prisoner so special to warrant a tower to herself. The Queen hadn't brought him along when she'd apprehended them three nights ago, which was an oddity now that he thought about it. Regina kept him close by her side whenever she left the castle, save for when she was dealing with the Dark One. Thus, as he climbed the spiraling staircase to the tallest tower in the castle, he could only surmise that the prisoner had a connection with the Dark One.

Such a realization would've sent any normal man spiraling into a panic, but the Huntsman found himself feeling hopeful of such an outcome. He had long since resigned himself to his fate. No one was coming to aid a man who was raised by wolves, who didn't even have a name. But perhaps, if Regina made the Dark One angry enough, the sorcerer may finally do away with her. It was unlikely, he knew that. For all that the Evil Queen despises the Dark One and openly cursed his very existence, the sorcerer only ever showed a condescending fondness towards the woman. Maybe the Dark One would punish Regina by killing her favorite pet—him. He smiled faintly at that thought.

Upon reaching the top of the tower, he wordlessly dismissed the soldier standing guard, who passed him with a sneer and a shove. While he may hold the highest title in the Evil Queen's army, Captain of the Black Guards, the infantry understood he was little more than a tool used at the expense of Regina's amusement. He was a joke to them. Likewise, the Huntsman was unaffected by their opinions, and not because he lacked a heart to emote, but because they were men who, of their own will, dutifully served the Evil Queen. He cared not for the opinions of such honor-less fiends.

Taking post outside the thick wooden door, the Huntsman didn't bother to peer through the metal latch. Maybe if he didn't know what the prisoner looked like; he wouldn't feel some semblance of guilt. Time passed slowly and no noise from behind the door reached him. Curiosity was a wan emotion, one easily lost to the void inside his chest, but a different kind of shame stubbornly lingered. He wondered if his was what an abused dog felt like, so beaten down that he constantly cowered at its master's feet. The very thought made him want to rebel. He wanted to fling open the door and release the prisoner insider. Hells, the devil himself could be locked behind that door and the Huntsman would happily free him—if only to relish in the actions of his own defiance in the face of Regina's ever-present control.

He tried to make his hand move, to undo the bolt on the door. He tried to move his mouth, to shout the words, "Go, you're free!" But his hand remained stubbornly at his side, and his jaw remained locked in place. To set the prisoner free would be an outright act of disobedience, and that would go against one of the very first commands the Evil Queen had breathed into his heart. For a moment, his eyes burned with unshed tears. Hopelessness and hate swelled within him, and he released a howl before the feelings could be swallowed by the hollow hole inside his chest. Outside the castle, in the neighboring woods, he could distantly hear a second howl joining his.

When he was relieved of his duty hours later, the numb Huntsman silently returned to his chambers and turned in for the night. His dreams were haunted by Regina's dark eyes, her nails digging into his back, and her blood red lips wearing a triumphant smile as he shouted her name.

November 8, 2011: Storybrooke

Where Graham left the encounter smiling and feeling more elated than he had in years, Rose was left with mixed moods, her mind scrambling to make sense of what had just happened. First and foremost was that fact that her kiss was apparently breaking Graham free of the Curse. Which didn't make any goddamn sense! It had worked with Emma because she was the Savior.

This was what she'd been trying to prevent damnit!

Rose brought a hand up to her lips. They still tingled a little, and unconsciously, a smile spread across her face. It hadn't been a bad kiss, she silently admitted, far from it. In fact, it was probably the best ones she'd ever had, though by all rights it shouldn't have been. Graham had several inches on her after all, almost an entire foot if she was being honest. The height difference should've made for awkward positions, with him hunching down towards her, or she straining to reach him. Instead, they'd melded around each other instinctively, clicking into place like two halves of a whole.

And while she knew what it was like to grow breathless when making out, their too short kiss had left her gasping in a completely different way. It wasn't just a lack of air, or endorphins flooding her system. No, there'd been something more to it, something she couldn't name or describe, but still left behind an odd sensation fluttering in her chest. Then there was the way his stubble had tickled and scratched her skin simultaneously; just recalling the sensation sent shivers down her–

Rose stopped, suddenly very conscious of where her thoughts had gone. The smile quickly bled from her face, her hand dropping down to her side as confusion took over. What was she doing? She didn't gush over kisses. And she certainly didn't daydream about ones that had happened moments ago.

Okay, yes, she acknowledged that the kiss had been… sensual, but in the end, it was just that, a kiss. It wasn't anything for her to lose her head over. Besides, she had more important things to think about. Like what she was going to do now that Graham was remembering his past. There was a very real chance that Regina was going to crush his heart now. That thought was more staggering than it should be. It wasn't a surprise—she'd known about this for years, decades.

So why did her stomach just turn over in dread?

An almost nervous energy shot through her body, and her limbs seemed to twitch with a frantic urge to move, to do something. It took an unusual amount of willpower to keep herself heading towards Granny's, instead of dashing off for the graveyard. 'Emma first, Graham second. It's fine, I have time, and rushing is never a smart thing to do. Take it slow.' She needed to reassure Emma or else her sister was likely to give Graham a black eye to match the bruise on his jaw tomorrow morning when she went to work.

Looking over everything she'd done so far, Rose knew she hadn't changed much of the storyline, yet somehow, Graham had developed feelings for her instead of Emma. She stared down at her feet as she walked towards the diner, thoughts racing over what she should do next. Fortunately, this was a scenario she'd planned for. Well, maybe not exactly this.

Rose hadn't thought that her kiss would awaken the Huntsman's memories. Rather she'd figured that, despite calling dibs on Graham, he would've still kissed Emma. She hadn't even entertained the notion that the Sheriff would fall for her over the Savior. Honestly, it left her feeling bewildered and… maybe just a little bit pleased?

Now, Rose didn't have any self-confidence issues when it came to the looks department. She'd been reborn with good genetics and had grown into a rather pretty woman. She'd never really lacked in admirers. However, she was also aware that Emma was more appealing in general—a blonde bombshell in every sense of the word. Often, when they'd gone out, men had chatted her sister up more so than herself. Emma was the first choice of most guys. It was something she'd accepted without any hard feelings. In truth, Rose had never really been interested in relationships.

The thought of dating during high school had made her feel like a pseudo-pedophile. Once she got into her twenties it became easier, though she still felt like a cougar if she even looked at a guy under twenty-five. Men in their thirties had been more her speed, and even then, she'd never gone much beyond one-night stands. Graham was kind of perfect for her in that regard. She imagined he was in his mid-thirties, and there was also his twenty-eight years stuck in the Curse. By that count, he matched her mentality more than anyone outside of Storybrooke.

And somehow, her thoughts had circled back to Graham. Again. Shaking her head, Rose pushed all the baffling thoughts the Sheriff inspired to the back of her head. Slapping a smug smirk onto her face, she walked into Granny's Diner and quickly spotted Emma at the counter nursing a glass filled with amber liquid. Indulging in some spirits was sorely tempting at the moment, but she knew what a slippery slope that was. And she had an errand to run tonight.

Robbing a crypt while drunk sounded like a very bad idea.

Sliding onto the stool beside sister, Rose faked a disappointed sigh.

"I thought we agreed never to drink out of anger, Sawn Lake." She tutted, shaking her head back and forth, trying hard not to let her lips twitch into a smile. Emma glared at her, though it was more petulant than mad.

"Yeah, and I thought we didn't date guys who were already in relationships." She snarked back while holding the glass up to her mouth. "Between you and Mary Margaret, I'm gonna have an aneurism by Christmas."

"He's breaking it off with her tomorrow." Rose offered, grinning slightly as the crease between Emma's furrowed brows lessened a little. Narrow green eyes raked over her and she took the scrutiny easily, idly wondering what the blonde saw. "What?"

"You like him." The Savior announced, and she shrugged.

"I thought that was obvious when I let him kiss me." Emma shook her head.

"No, you really care about him. This isn't like normal. You don't want a one-night fling with him. You like him more than that." There was something akin to awe tinging her sister's tone and Rose instinctively opened her mouth to deny it, but found, much to her bemusement, that she didn't quite know what to say. Emma's eyes widened, her jaw dropping a little. "Holy shit, you really do like him!" She swallowed drily, feeling as if she'd just stumbled into a trap, and her gaze darted down to Emma's drink. With swift reflexes, she snatched it up and drained it in a matter of seconds.

"I guess– I mean–" She didn't get tongue-tied, it just wasn't something that happened to her. Rose found she couldn't help it though. Yes, she liked Graham, he was good guy, but what Emma was talking about… Rose didn't do that kind of affection. Not ever. "Can we not talk about this anymore?" She asked quickly, feeling strangely out of breath, and not in the same way she'd been after kissing Graham. "Oh look, it's M&M!" She said, overly aware that her voice had gone up several pitches. "Mary Margaret!" She shouted, apparently too loudly considering half the diner, including M&M, jumped at her call. "Over here!" As the confused teacher made her way towards them, Rose steadfastly refused to look at Emma.

"Hey." Mary Margaret greeted them, her cheeks likely a little red from the cold. Rose, however, believed her glowing complexion was due more to happiness. She and Charming hadn't started dating yet, but the thought of it seemed more than enough to keep the teacher flushed with joy. "What are you guys up to?"

"We're celebrating Rose's first real relationship." Emma said with a smirk while Rose whipped her head around to frown at her.

"Really?" M&M asked, sounding both delighted and a little mystified.

"No, no we are not." She denied promptly.

"Have you really not been in a relationship?" The raven-haired woman continued disbelievingly.

"Excuse you, but I've had plenty of lovers." Rose replied, feeling a little miffed for some reason.

"One-night stands don't count." Emma quipped, and she barely resisted the urge to outright glare at her traitorous sister. "Do you even remember the names of the guys you slept with?"

"…I think there was a Mark?"

"Seriously?" The Savior sounded very unimpressed, while M&M simply stared, her mouth slightly agape.

"And maybe a Benjamin?" Rose added, pretending to be sheepish. Emma didn't know that her sex-capades weren't nearly as promiscuous as she made them sound. She'd never dated anyone as a teenager, despite how the rumor mill in high school had claimed otherwise, and Rose had been nineteen when Neal had gotten them sent to prison. Needless to say, those three years in jail had put a damper on her love life.

The first time Rose had sex, in this life at least, she'd been twenty-three and it had been with a bronze skinned foreigner named Rico. She'd been working as a waitress at a bar at the time, and he'd come in every night for two weeks just to talk to her. She had played hard to get at first, but he'd quickly won her over with his soft brown eyes, suave words, and seductive accent. She had really liked Rico. It had hurt more than it should've to find her bed empty the following morning. She never saw him again after that. He got what he wanted.

Rose had been a bit more guarded when she'd next met Dillan, a man vacationing from London for ten days, when she'd been twenty-four. He'd had wispy blonde hair and a smile that lit up his entire face. She'd never met anybody who laughed as much as him. Dillan had been upfront with her though, admitting that he fully intended to go home and that, whatever relationship they had, would be brief. He'd been such a charmer, all gentleman-like with his gestures. Pulling out her chair, slipping his coat onto her shoulders when it got cold. Dillan left her with an amiable smile and a farewell kiss to the back of her hand.

Short relationships became something she'd just inadvertently slipped into after that. She treated the men similar to how she'd acted with Dillan. It was all smiles, silver-tongued flirting, heated touches, and an understanding between them that it would only last for a for a week at the most. Only three more men had come after Dillan. Her last interaction had been over a year ago, with an Irish man named Finn who'd had wild red hair, a chiseled jawline, and a warm voice that had been too genuine to resist.

"On second thought, maybe Graham will be good for you." Emma muttered, her gaze dropping downwards as a frown fell over her features.

"But, um, isn't he and, uh, you-know-who–" M&M asked hesitantly, obviously not trying to incite another situation like the one from the other night. Though Rose still very much wanted to bail. How had they ended up talking about her relationship status again?

"Graham Cracker says he's gonna breakup with Reggie tomorrow."

"Oh." The teacher replied softly, before a small smile spread across her face. "That's wonderful." She instantly looked contrite. "I mean, not for Mayor Mills, obviously, but–" Emma cut her off with a loud snort.

"From how Graham put it, they were just using each other for sex." Her voice turned somewhat derisive. "Although I'm pretty sure that Regina was doing most of the using."

"You got that feeling too, huh?" Rose asked as she glanced at the Savior. Really, she was always impressed by how good Emma's instincts were. She may not know what was wrong with their relationship, but she could tell there was something hinky going on there.

"Whatever." The blonde said with a shake of her head, a teasing smirk returning to her face. "Come tomorrow, they'll be over, and you'll have your first boyfriend." Rose cringed.

"Can we not use the word boyfriend, that seems so… high school."

"We could call him your paramour?" Mary Margaret offered with a small smile. "Or maybe calling him a suitor would be better?"

"…Are you teasing me right now?" Rose asked with a half-grin and the teacher blushed a little but continued impenitently.

"How about partner?"

"Egh, hard pass." Emma said as her nose wrinkled. "Graham's called me partner a few times already. That would be weird." She smirked again. "How about calling him your main squeeze?" M&M at least had the decency to hide her giggling behind her hand. "Hmm, he's not old enough to be your sugar daddy and he's not young enough to be considered a boy toy. How does significant other sound?" The two devolved into laughter, and Rose sniffed, pretending to be affronted.

"I think I'll stick to pet names, thank you very much."

"So, what? You're gonna go around calling him sweetheart and babe?" Emma snickered.

"Maybe."

"That's sounds even more juvenile that just calling him your boyfriend." Her sister mocked, and Rose silently admitted she had a point, but she'd be damned if she let Emma know that.

"Well, as fun as this has been." She answered back sarcastically. "I'm gonna head out."

"Wait, don't go. We didn't mean anything by it." Mary Margaret was quick to apologize, and Rose smirked at her indulgently.

"I can handle a little razzing, M&M. I've just gotta pick something up at the store before it closes." She stood up and laid a ten on the counter, ignoring Emma's look. It wasn't like her sister got to enjoy her drink anyways. "I'll see you guys back at the apartment."

"Oh, okay." The teacher said, smiling slightly.

"Later." Emma called as she flagged down Ruby. With a parting wave over her shoulder, Rose made her way down to the local store and picked up a few essential items. The cashier, a short man who seemed to be suffering from a bad case of hay fever, rung up her purchases sluggishly, and failed to coax her into buying the 50% off Halloween candy. M&M had bought more than enough to last them until Christmas. Rose proceeded back out into the night and retraced the path she'd taken a few days ago to reach the cemetery.

May 26, 1981: Enchanted Forest

The Huntsman found himself guarding the newest prisoner almost daily. He completed his shifts in resounding silence and not once did the prisoner make any noise besides the slight rattling of their chains or her bare feet slapping lightly against the stone floor. His curiosity, what little he felt, was teased with each day that passed. He gave into temptation after a mere ten days. The Huntsman carefully peeled back the metal latch, and was met with the most vibrant blue eyes he'd ever seen.

His breath froze in his chest as he took in Regina's prisoner, and the guilt he'd been able to push aside rose up like a tidal wave that threatened to overwhelm him before receding once more into shallows. The woman looked young, perhaps a few years older than Snow White had been, but likely just as innocent of whatever crimes the Evil Queen imagined.

She was a true beauty. Even he, a man who'd spent most of his life in the wilderness, could see that. She had stunning reddish-brown hair, a color he's not sure he's ever seen before, while her pale skin was smooth and unblemished. She had a small, pert nose, complimented by soft pink lips that were currently pulled into a weary frown. She was a little thing too and looked fragile in every way a woman could. She was wearing a dirty, frayed, shapeless dress, something Regina had likely forced her into, but that did little to undermine her loveliness.

The Huntsman must've made a noise because the woman's despondent gaze suddenly shifted towards him, those bright blue eyes narrowing into a fierce glare. In a span of moments, all her meekness was replaced with something strong and determined.

"You can tell the Queen I won't tell her anything about ––—." The woman's mouth continued to move, but no sound came out. Her expression turned thunderous as she spoke again. "I won't tell her anything about the Dark One." Her posture straightened from where she'd sat curled up on her bed, fists clenched at her sides and chin jutting into the air. "I won't help her hurt him."

"The Dark One?" The Huntsman repeated in confusion, realizing she must have just tried to use the sorcerer's real name. Regina had long ago bewitched his name so that none within the castle, save for herself, could say it aloud. "You know the Dark One?" So, his musings had been right. Although, he had to wonder how such a little beauty could be connected to the darkest being in all the lands.

"Isn't that why you're here? To question me like the others?" She demanded, though not as aggressively as before. The Huntsman shook his head.

"I've only been ordered to guard you." The woman didn't respond to that, her lips merely pressing into a flat frown as she studied him shrewdly. He resisted the urge to shuffle under her surprisingly intense gaze and a lull passed before he forced himself to speak. "…Would you tell me your name?" This was apparently the wrong thing to say because she bristled like a porcupine.

"Names have power, I would not so foolishly give mine away. Especially not to one of the Evil Queen's men!" She bared her teeth at him in a challenging snarl and he felt his eyes widen in surprise. "Leave me be, I have no desire to speak with you any longer." With that she turned her back to him. The dismissal was clear, even though she was still trapped and had no power here. He didn't even think about refusing her, however, and instead slid the slot close without another word.

He'd been very wrong about his initial observations. That was no fragile woman, she was an alpha in every sense of the word—a wolf in human skin.

November 8, 2011: Storybrooke

The hike to the cemetery wasn't a very long one. A few days ago, Rose had reached it after about twenty minutes, now with her speed put at a slightly panicked jog, she got there in twelve. She bypassed the headstones, which she had idly studied last time due to curiosity, and moved towards the only crypt in the graveyard.

On her previous visit, her reconnaissance had been cut short when she'd found that the crypt was locked. Rose had reasoned that breaking into Reggie's vault wasn't strictly necessary yet. She didn't want to let the Evil Queen know that someone was undermining her so early into the storyline. Now, her hand had been forced. Still, even though she hadn't tampered with anything last time, she had gone through a few ideas on how to get the crypt open in case of an emergency. Like everything about Storybrooke, which seemed to be aesthetically stuck in the 80s, the crypt's doors—while massive and decorated with cast iron facets—nevertheless possessed the design flaws that were an 80s byproduct.

Like how the hinges were on the outside of the doors, rather than inside.

It was a good thing too, because her abilities in lockpicking had never really been up to snuff. Neal had been rather good at it though, and he'd taught her some of what her knew, but it had also been years since she'd had to pick a lock. She hadn't felt all that confident in utilizing her rusty skills on the crypt's doors. Especially since the old lock would easily show off any scratches it gained from said poor lockpicking attempts. Neal had been an artist with a pick, the Da Vinci of minor theft. He'd chuckled at the comparison when she'd voiced it.

Fortunately, Neal's finesse was not needed for this particular break-in. Taking out the flathead screwdriver and hammer she'd just bought from the store; she went for the hinge pins. It took nearly a half-an-hour, the pins were thick, heavy duty, and Rose did her best to avoid nicking the cast iron's dark finish too noticeably. Once done, she had to carefully pull back the massive set door of, and was nearly flattened at one point when the doors wobbled dangerously in her arms. She managed to prop it against the doorframe of the crypt at angle just big enough for her to squeeze through at the bottom.

Using the flashlight on her iPhone, she scanned the 12x12 crypt, seeing that there was only a single marble casket resting in the middle of the room. The back wall sported the one window, which was a tiny thing positioned near the ceiling. The left and right walls had hollowed out ledges filled with differently sized urns. She wondered if there really was ash in them, but that curiosity seemed a bit too perverse and disrespectful to investigate. On the sarcophagus there was a silver plaque simply inscribed 'Henry Mills – beloved father'.

Rose glance around the space once more. She didn't know the exact entrance to Reggie's secret stash of magical goodies, but considering the crypt's dimensions, she doubted there were any false walls, so that left the floor. She eyed the marble casket suspiciously and approached it from the left side. Rose planted her hands against the sarcophagus and started pushing. For a moment, it stayed firmly in place, but then she felt it give. The stonework groaned against the cement floor as she grunted with effort and cursed at Reggie. Slowly, a gust of musty air hit her face and her expression turned victorious.

"I wonder if this makes me a tomb robber?" Rose asked herself with a giddy chuckle while making her way down the dark stairwell. At the foot of the stairs, there was a bricked archway to her right, which she went through with a hint of caution.

The underground room she stepped into was large than the crypt above. The walls had shelves and nooks displaying unlit candles, along with an assortment of items that she could only guess at. There were dusty chests of every shape and size, but there are also knickknacks—such as pottery, jewelry, or tools—and numerous dirt covered books. Tall iron candelabras added a gothic touch to the overall aesthetic, but it was the many cobwebs draped along every item that truly gave the chamber an eerie feel.

Rose paused. For a moment, she thought she'd heard a faint thumping. It wasn't from a single source, but rather a cacophony of steady thuds following their own tempo. But then the moment passed and there was only silence. There were two more hallways, one straight ahead of her which seemed to lead to a smaller chamber—she could see a large mirror framed by sweeping red velvet curtains—and another corridor to her right that seemingly lead to a wall covered by black drapes. Curiosity had Rose heading down the second hallway where she pulled one of the back curtains, setting it on a jutting hook. The thumping had returned, louder than before, but still mostly muffled.

At first, Rose just thought she was starring at a very odd feature wall. Rows of golden sculpted metal squares covered the middle of the wall. In the center of each square was a silver circle with different letters engraved into each: FD, KN, BR. Her brows furrowed in confusion and Rose reached up to touch one of the squares. To her surprise, it moved a little and she found she could pull it outwards with a big of wiggling. It was a draw, she realized, and immediately one set of the thumping grew louder. Inside the drawer was a small golden chest that had no lock in its latch. She pulled it out of the drawer and flipped the lid.

Rose stopped dead and nearly dropped the chest as her stomach twisted in horror.

"Holy shit." It was a heart, a glowing, beating, magically preserved heart. Her eyes jumped back to the metal drawers as what she found dawned on her. 'It's like storage boxes in a bank.' Rose thought numbly before she quickly began to pull out each drawer. Everyone contained the same type of boxes inside, and from each box came a beating that followed its own rhythm. And there were so many. This sure as hell wasn't in her notebook. Had she not considered this important enough to write down? Had this even been a part of the show?

Rose quickly came to another terrible realization—she had no idea which heart belonged to Graham. She eyed the letters inscribed on the boxes, and tentatively concluded that they may be the initials of the Evil Queen's victim. She found a GH in the middle of the third row and figured she should count her blessing on there not being multiple GH's. She grimaced as she opened the drawer and took the chest within. Lifting the lid, she paused to study the heart inside. It looked no different from the first one she found, not at first. It took Rose a moment to spot the odd blemishes along the heart and even then, things didn't click into place until she carefully took the organ into her hand. The marks were scars, abrasions no doubt caused by Regina's nails.

"Psychotic bitch." The faux blonde hissed furiously. There were at least a dozen grazes, staining the red glowing heart with muted white-marron scores. "Starting to feel like she doesn't deserve that second chance." Rose eyed the vault of hearts, torn by indecision. She wanted to take every heart with her, but she had no idea how that would affect things. How would Regina react to knowing that someone had raided her heart collection? Would she try to poison Emma earlier than in the storyline? Or would someone else be the focus of the Evil Queen's paranoid rage?

But, if Rose only took Graham's heart, Reggie would still know that someone had broken into her crypt. She and Emma would be the likeliest suspects. Henry too, but she was certain the kid would be safe from his adoptive mother's fury. Jefferson was aware of the Cure, knowledge his punishment after all, so would the Queen go after him? How many hints and taunts had Gold dropped since regaining his memories? Would Reggie even have the balls to go after the Dark One? And M&M would likely suffer the brunt of her wrath at some point too, considering how much the Mayor loathed her.

So, what was she supposed to do? She couldn't leave Graham's heart. Rose mindfully tightened her hand around the vital organ, bringing it close to her chest. 'Maybe I can switch his heart with someone–' She cut that thought off before it could fully finish. She wasn't that desperate, nor that depraved. Hell, she wasn't even a hundred percent certain that this was actually Graham's heart! Rose took a deep breath and listed her options.

One, leave Graham's heart and ultimately be complicit in his murder. Two, take his heart and risk tipping off Reggie that someone is meddling with her Unhappily Ever After. Three, take all the hearts and risk sending the Evil Queen off the deep end. Each choice had its own pros and cons.

Option One, Graham's death would weigh on. Rose crunched up her face at that understatement. No, Emma had made a point earlier. She did like Graham. A lot. As she stood inside Reggie's crypt, she knew she could never muster the will to walk away and let him die. Option Two, putting aside Regina's own reactions, Graham's presence would make him an unknown factor in future scenarios, one that may risk how things are supposed to go. Option Three was a like Option Two, but with the Evil Queen's possible revenge amplified on a much larger, and deadlier, scale. Rose turned his amber eyes skywards and let out a low groan.

"Well, fuck."

November 9, 2011: Storybrooke

He stalked through the woods, mindful of twig under his boots, sliding past the branches of bushes and trees with a near soundless swish of his bear pelt that almost reached the forest floor. With keen ears and sharp eyes, he was attuned to the slightest movement and smallest sound. The flap of wings came from above, accompanied with the chirp of finches and sparrows. A rabbit darted from a nearby briar patch and he watched it go indifferently.

He was hunting bigger game today.

As if summoned by that thought, the young buck he'd been tracking all morning appeared not far ahead to graze in a glade. With a soft breath, he raised his bow up and drew the string back till it just barely brushed alongside his unshaven cheeks. Without a warning he let the arrow fly, where it struck hard and true. The buck made a pained noise before collapsing, its struggles ceasing slowly. It had been a good shot, quick and efficient. The buck's dying cries were still heart wrenching bare witness too. He wished he were skilled enough to end its life in an instant, but alas, he was not. Perhaps, it was meant to be this way, death was rarely painless.

He approached the creature slowly, tears gathering in his eyes as he kneeled beside the noble animal. He'd always believed that bucks were the princes of the forest.

"You have died so that I may live." He tenderly patted the creature, his gloved hand pausing by the arrow. "Forgive me. Your sacrifice is honorable. I thank you." He was just about the remove the arrow when he heard something moving nearby. He immediately tensed, one hand subtly reached for the knife kept on his belt, when he saw that it was relaxes only his packmate. The wolf had been abandoned as a pup for his two differently colored eyes—the left a normal yellow, the right as red as blood—and so he had taken the cub in. In truth, they were hardly a pack, but he held hope that one day more would join them.

"Don't worry, boy. You won't go hungry tonight." He glanced down at the buck and frowned before quickly withdrawing the arrow from his hide, causing a stream of blood to gush out.

Graham bolted upright in bed, breathing had from the dream he'd just experienced. It had felt so vivid—the smell of the woods still lingered, and he could feel the warm body of the buck beneath his hands. Blue eyes darted around his apartment frantically as he pushed away his duvet, exposing his sweat soaked skin to the cool air. A shudder ran through him, and Graham wasn't sure if it was from his overheated body rapidly cooling down, or from his dream.

There wasn't anything truly disturbing about it. He's hunted before, though never with a bow and arrow, and he's always been fond of wolves, but just something about it had felt—almost intrusive. Like someone else had put that dream in his head. It put him on edge, made him feel oddly cornered. Without even realizing, he started to pace across his apartment, his hands fidgeting at his sides as a strange restlessness rose up inside him.

For a moment, Graham was tempted to give Rose a call. He hadn't remembered what he'd seen when he kissed her earlier, but now the image was seared into his mind's eye. That grey wolf with its stark red eye outshining its natural blue one. He went so far as to grabbing his phone before he finally snapped out of it. Firstly, he didn't even have Rose's phone number, just Emma's. And secondly, it had to be too late to make such a call. Graham glanced at his alarm clock to see that it was 4 in the morning and grimaced to himself. Okay, so it was really late.

He took a deep breath and tried to slow down his breathing into a more even rhythm, but the desire to move didn't leave him. He needed to go out, he needed to do something. He just didn't know what. Realizing sleep would be impossible, Graham quickly got ready for the day, forgetting his tie in his haste, and headed out the door.

He fumbled with his keys upon reaching his cruiser and they slipped through his jittery fingers onto the asphalt. Withholding a curse, Graham bent down to grab them, and ended up falling on his ass when a low growl reverberated a few feet away from him. His blue eyes widened when they landed on the wolf from his dreams. It stared back at him calmly, its red eye matching the same one from his dream.

In a moment of insanity, Graham had an absurd urge to reach out and run his fingers through the wolf's fur. Thankfully, it chose that moment to move away, trotting across the street and up a path led into the forest. He knew it well; he took it whenever he felt too stifled by the people of Storybrooke and needed some solitude. Gasping from where he leaned against the cruiser, Graham stared after the creature before slowly climbing to his feet. It glanced back at him before howling, the noise causing something in Graham's chest to jolt painfully. Then the wolf took off, dashing for the tree line.

He hesitated for a moment before following, his shoes pounding hard against the pavement.

May 29, 1981: Enchanted Forest

Three days passed before the Huntsman attempted to speak with the woman again. It was a decision he'd come to the night before and so he arrived at the tower earlier than normal. As he climbed the steps and neared the top landing, he began to hear a noise. It was unidentifiable at first, but having served the Evil Queen for years now, he soon recognized it as the sound of someone receiving a lashing.

Without a second thought the Huntsman bounded up the last few leagues of stairs. The prisoner's door was unguarded and unbolted, though this barely registered in his mind. He threw it open with a hard shoved of his shoulder and paused at the threshold as he took in the sight before him.

The woman's arms were raised above her head, cuffed, and chained to easily present her naked back to the Black Guard holding a bloodied whip in his hand.

The snarl the ripped through his throat would've made his packmate proud as he dashed across the room and tackled the guard to the floor. There was noise, shouting and curses, but the Huntsman couldn't process them, not while he'd reverted into a feral mindset that only ever set in when his packmate was in danger.

When he came back to himself the Huntsman found himself sitting on top of the guard, his hands tightly wrapped around the man's throat. He immediately loosened his grip and, with a harsh swallow, rest his hand beneath the guard's nose. He was disappointed, but not surprised to find he felt not even the faintest breath of air.

"Is he… d-dead?" The hushed question came from the Huntsman's right and he startled at the noise. He looked and was once again met by bright blue eyes. The beauty was straining her head over her shoulder, her weeping bloody back still exposed, limbs still chained. Her eyes were glassy, but he could see no hind of tears on her cheeks. She'd bitten her bottom lip raw though, the skin brutalized and smeared with red. There was a total of six lashes crisscrossing her back, four which were bleeding sluggishly while the other two hadn't fully broken the skin. Those must've been her warnings. The Huntsman swallowed again, and thought for a moment that he could taste blood in the back of his throat.

"…I didn't mean to." He admitted after a long moment. "I just—he was hurting you…"

"And," The woman began softly, cautiously, as if she were trying to soothe a spoke animal. "you don't want me to be hurt?" He shook his head and pulled away from the guard. He paused, wondering if he could take the keyring from the man's belt and free her, but when his arms refused to move, he sighed in defeat. "I don't understand. You work for the Evil Queen–"

"Only because I have no choice!" The Huntsman snarled, but the woman didn't flinch away from him. She only narrowed her eyes. "She has my heart. I cannot disobey here."

"…You don't mean that metaphorically, do you?" He faltered for a moment as he looked at her.

"I don't know what that word means." Regina always found it amusing to do that, using words he didn't understand and openly taunting his ignorance.

"It's a figure of speech in which a term or phrase is applied to something to which it is not literally applicable in order to suggest a resemblance." He made a face at the woman's response and she smiled. It was a sweet thing, and nothing like the nasty leers Regina aimed at him. "An example would be someone saying something like: "A mighty fortress is our God." The fortress is of course not a God, but merely a link to show how important the fortress is." The Huntsman nodded slowly. He thought he might understand what she was trying to say.

"So, when I said she has my heart…"

"Metaphorically, it could be taken as a declaration of love." He made a choked noise at that, finding the very idea of ever loving Regina utterly repulsive.

"That's not what I meant." He rasped with a sense of urgency. "Not at all. She tore my heart from my chest and uses it to control me." He stared at the beauty with wide eyes and watched as the kind look from before drained from her face, making her look even paler.

"She really did that?" She uttered in a low, horrified whisper. "Why?"

"She wanted me kill a princess, in return she would protect all wolves within her lands. Yet when I met the young woman, I couldn't go through with it. I let her run away and brought back the heart of a doe to fool the Queen." He grimaced as he brought a hand up to his chest. "She knew right away what I'd done. As punishment, she took my heart instead and has forced me to serve her ever since."

"I'm sorry." The beauty said and he looked back at her, stunned to see that there were tears spilling from her eyes. She hadn't cried during the lashing. She had screamed, had torn her lip to shreds, but she hadn't shed any tears. Yet now, she would freely weep for him? "You did the right thing. You don't deserve such an awful fate." If he had a heart, the Huntsman wondered if he would've cried in gratitude at the show of compassion that had been bereft from his life.

He didn't have a heart though, and as such, the gratitude was wane and fleeting. Coughing to clear his throat while swiping at his dry, irritated eyes, he pulled off his cloak and draped it around the lady, being mindful of the injures. Her mangy slip of a dress had not been removed, rather the guard had torn the fabric to expose her back and now it barely clung to her body, providing little modesty. She blushed as he wrapped his cloak around her, muttering a quiet thank you that he merely nodded at. After all his forced trysts with Regina, he doubted he would ever again consider a woman's body to be appealing.

"I don't suppose you can get me down?" The lady asked once he stepped away and the Huntsman sighed.

"No, she ordered me to never defy her outright. I cannot set you free." The beauty hummed lowly, her gaze dropping to the dead guard on the floor, where a deep frown soon took over her features.

"And if you didn't free me? I'm only asking that you uncuff me, not for you to help me escape." He paused at that, his mind spinning. No, that shouldn't count as mutiny, not so long as the lady still remained Regina's prisoner. Hesitantly, he crouched down to retrieve the keys, and those his limbs were a little jerky, he was able to retrieve the keyring. With shaky hands, he found that he could unlock the shackles holding the woman in place, and a distant triumphant feeling swelled in his chest as each chain rattled in protest. The beauty let out a pained gasp and she nearly collapsed to the floor, but his quick reflexes allowed him to catch her in time. Carefully, he guided her towards the dirty cot pressed up against the wall, walked around the cooling corpse in the middle of the floor, and eased her down onto it with all the gentleness he could muster. When he pulled back, she grasped his hand, smiling at him with those bold blue eyes. "Thank you for your help, um—I just realized I don't know your name."

"I don't have one." He stated indifferently. Not having a name had never bothered him. No matter how people had tried to shame him about it.

"You don't have a name?" The beauty repeated in confusion. "Do you mean the Queen took your name? Like how I can't say the Dark One's name?"

"No. I mean I never had one. Or if I did, I was too young to remember it." He paused for a moment, considering, before taking a breath. He'd never told anyone about his past. The villagers had disliked for as long as he could remember, and there was certainly no one in Evil Queen's castle that he wished to confide in. "When I was little, my parents abandoned me in the woods. A small pack of wolves found me, and the alpha's mate, who'd just given birth to her first litter, took me in as one of her own pups."

"How could you have possibly survived?" He glared at her, knowing that she was about to start shouting about how bloodthirsty, dumb animals could never be so kind or caring. "Wolves age so much faster than humans. If you were abandoned as a babe—why it would've taken you months to learn how to crawl, let alone walk! The puppies would've already started to learn how to hunt by that point. Surely the mother would've stopped producing milk by then, and wolves are carnivorous! What did you even eat?!" He stared at the lady for a long moment, realizing that she wasn't insulting his pack, but rather she just seemed concerned over how he had lived.

"I wasn't quite that young." He replied with a growing smile. "I could walk by that point, and I could talk a bit too. I was old enough to know that my parents were gone. I do think there was an issue with food at first. I suppose I soon learned to stick with berries and the like rather than attempting to eat raw meat. But just because I was raised by my pack doesn't mean I stopped interacting with humans entirely. The nearby villagers didn't like me, but there was an elderly human, Old Lady, who looked out for me. She gave me clothes to keep me warm, taught me how to speak, how to make a fire and how to cook with it—things like that."

"And she never gave you a name?" The beauty asked shrewdly. "I find that unlikely."

"She called me something, but I never considered it to be mine."

"What was it?"

"Humbert." The woman made an odd face as she shook her head.

"Probably a good call. That's—well, it's not a very flattering name." She looked back at him, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. He shrugged.

"Humans had taken to calling me the Huntsman as I grew older."

"Then I shall just have to call you that until I can think of something much more appropriate." A part of him wanted to tell her not to bother. He'd never wanted a human name, never wanted to be seen as human, but the years with the Evil Queen had worn him down. Even if he managed to take back his heart, he doubted he'd be able to live in the woods as comfortably as he had before. Mankind had left its mark on him. "Belle."

"I'm sorry?" The Huntsman asked, wondering if the lady was asking for a bell.

"My name, it's Belle."

"Bell?" He thought it was an odd thing to name a person after an object, but then again, he'd heard of other women who were named after flowers. He supposed bells made pretty noises.

"It's spelt B-E-L-L-E. Where I'm from, it's mean beauty."

"It suits you." The Huntsman didn't tell her that he had little knowledge about letters, but he made an effort to remember them. 'B-E-L-L-E' He repeated them over and over again in his head. It was the first word he learned how to spell, but it wouldn't be the last. Belle would make sure of that.

November 9, 2011: Storybrooke

He lost the wolf. The wild animal had dove under a large thorny bush, so Graham had decided to go around it by hopping a fallen tree, but once he'd straightened up, he could see any hint of the wolf's grey and white pelt. He spun around in confusion, but he spotted nothing. He crouched to the ground, looking for pawprints or broken foliage to figure out which direction the animal took, but…

Graham's brows furrowed as he backtracked, eyes locked onto the ground, but he found no trace of the wolf's path. That wasn't possible though. No matter how graceful the animal, they still left imprints in the soil, still broke plant stems or left behind tufts of fur. It was almost as if the animal hadn't even existed. He felt a chill go down his spine at that thought, logic finally rearing its head. He had dreamt about a wolf with a red eye. How could he encounter it minutes after waking up? Had he been chasing a delusion this entire time? Why had he thought it was a good idea pursue a wolf in the first place?

He swallowed hard, eyes darting around the woods as he panted from more than just exertion. What the hell was happening to him? He brought his hands up to his face, rubbing harshly at his skin, as if they sudden pressure would help put things into perspective. He startled when a howl echoed into the distance and his body instinctively jerked towards where he thought it had come from. Behind him, bushes rustled loudly, and he quickly spun around to find Mr. Gold of all people standing there.

"Good morning, Sheriff." Gold raised an eyebrow at him. "Sorry if I startled you."

"Right." Graham gasped, his gaze traveling over the area again. "Sorry, I… I thought you were a wolf." Gold gave a crooked smirk.

"Did I forget to shave?" The bit of humor was lost on the sheriff, who could only stare at the pawnbroker blankly.

"What are you doing out here so early?"

"A spot of gardening." It was only then Graham noticed that Mr. Gold was wearing an apron, partially covered in dirt, hiking boots, and was carrying a shovel in his other hand. God, he was really out of it, wasn't he? "Yourself?"

"I was looking for, um…"

"A wolf. Yeah, I think I'm beginning to catch on." Gold's eyes narrowed and Graham was abruptly very aware of how he looked. He went to tidy his clothes and quickly found that he'd forgotten his tie. "You know, to the best of my knowledge, Sheriff, there are no wolves in Storybrooke." He smirked. "Not the literal kind, anyway. Why are you looking?" Graham grimaced as he met the other man's gaze.

"…You'll think I'm crazy."

"Try me."

"I saw one in my dreams," He began with a slight wince, mindful of how ridiculous he sounded. "and then I saw one for real. Just a few hours ago." Which meant he'd been running through the woods since before the sun rose. How had so much time passed without him realizing it? "Did you, uh… did you see anything unusual out here?

"I'm afraid not." Gold said after a moment. "I do wish I could be more helpful." He began to walk away, scowling bleakly while leaning heavily on his cane. For a moment, Graham was struck by an odd thought. Surely, the trek into the woods would've been painful, what with his bad leg, but to do so while carrying a shovel and whatever Gold had sown? What could be so important that he would put himself through that kind of self-inflicted agony? "You know, Sheriff, they say that dreams… dreams are memories." Gold paused to glance back at him and Graham felt himself shift under the pawnbroker's intense stare. "Memories of another life."

"And… what do you believe?" Gold let out a small huff of laughter.

"Oh, I never rule out anything. Good luck, Sheriff. I do hope you find what you're looking for." The Cursed Huntsman watched the man go, left with the strangest feeling. It was almost like he was supposed to have told Gold something. He didn't know what, but it gnawed on his insides with a certainty. He'd forgotten something important—something that involved Gold. As the seconds passed, however, the feeling quickly faded. The man sighed, frustrated at how nothing seemed to make any sense.

Just as he began to contemplate returning home and calling in sick, Graham heard the wolf's howl once again. It was close. Any thoughts of returning home were banished as he picked up the chase once more.

Minutes seemed to trickle by like seconds, the sun rose higher in the distance. A glance at his watch revealed that he was over an hour late for work. He thought about Emma, and how pissed she had to be right about now. He left his walkie-talkie in his cruiser, not that it really mattered seeing as his deputy had all but exiled hers to the dregs of her desk drawer. Emma had argued that they were archaic and tried to bully him into buying a cellphone. Thinking about it, he probably should get one in case of an emergency. He'd just never considered it necessary before. Storybrooke had always been a quiet town with little problems. No one had ever had trouble getting ahold of him before.

Graham started when he suddenly noticed the wolf trotting towards. He fell still under its stare, locking gaze with that unsettling red eye. The wolf didn't growl, its hackles weren't raised. It merely stared at him. Surely, this wasn't normal behavior for a wild animal.

"What do you want?" He asked out of frustration. The wolf to huffed softly before walking away. "Hey!" He doesn't know what caused him to whistle, he did it instinctively. The effect was immediate.

The wolf stopped and, unbelievably, turned around and moved to sit at his feet. Graham hesitantly reached out, his hand coming stupidly close to the wolf's mouth. It nudged at his fingers with its muzzle and he let out an amazed breath as he slowly began petting the creature. He'd never own a dog, but this felt alarmingly familiar. Had he done this—The wolf ran beside him as they hunted—A raven-haired girl looked up at him with tears in his eyes—A sliver dagger gleamed as it plunged downwards—A stone crest that looked like antlers appeared before his eyes—Graham blinked and the images stopped as quickly as they has come. The wolf was gone and his hand was stretched out in front of him. A quick scan around the area revealed that he was once again alone.

"What the hell was that?" He rasped, his mouth parched and in dire need of some water. His skin felt clammy and feverish while his eyes were dried out and itchy. He scrubbed at his face and tried his hardest not to panic. "Why am I seeing these things?" There was no reply, obviously. 'Maybe I should go to the hospital? Or setup an appointment with Archie.' That thought made him scoff. He certainly felt like he was losing his mind. "Why did I see Mary Margaret?" Even if she'd been younger and with long hair, he'd still been able to recognize her in his… vision. "Why I was a holding that knife?"

And why did it feel like he'd been preparing to use it on Mary Margaret?

He didn't know the answers, but maybe the schoolteacher would. He had to talk to her.

May 30, 1981: Enchanted Forest

The Huntsman was, of course, punished for the guard he killed.

Belle had fretted about it when he'd drug the body out of the cell, worrying about what the Queen would do in retribution. Fortunately, Regina had yet to give the command for him to always speak the truth. He presented the body to her, stating that the guard had challenged him. It wouldn't be the first time. While not often, men have attacked him as an attempt to claim his position in the Evil Queen's army. It was really the only behavior he understood. Alphas wolves were often challenged for leadership of the pack.

Regina always looked so pleased when he laid their corpse at her feet, then she would have the body put on a pike that would be displayed in the training yard as a warning to her soldiers that infighting would not be tolerated. He would receive a public lashing—no less than five and no greater than ten—in her throne room as penance, while being forced to stare at her as she gave him that awful, hungry smile.

She'd use magic to stop the bleeding, but not heal the wounds, so that he wouldn't stain her sheets when she never failed to take him to bed that night.

When he met with Belle the next day, he was unable to hide a wince, and she demanded to know what the Queen had done to him He only told her about the lashing. She looked furious on his behalf, uttering words of loathing towards the Queen, all the while gently easing him onto her cot where she carefully left the back of his shirt. She murmured in sympathy at the lesions, and without a warning, she tore a large strip of cloth from the end of her ragged dress. She dipped it into the small tin cup that was her only source of water, told him to lay down on his stomach, and pressed the cool damp cloth to the worst of his wounds.

He hissed, first in pain, then with an odd mixture of relief. He could hardly tend to his own back, and there was no one to ask aid from, so often he would just have to grit his teeth and live with the agony for the weeks it took to heal. For the first time since Old Lady died, another human was helping him, taking care of him. After some time passed, Belle wordlessly retrieved the cloth and dipped it back into her cup, where she carefully wrung it so that the water would go to waste and placed it on a different injury.

"…Thank you." He whispered; his voice tight with a muted ache that was only partly physical.

"Never you mind, Graham."

"Graham?"

"Well, at fist I thought about calling you Gideon, but it didn't seem to fit quite right." A name, she had given him a name. "But then I remembered a book my father was fond of. It was about a young man, Graham, who tries to steal a loaf of bread to help his starving friend. He almost gets caught when a mysterious hooded woman suddenly helps him. She later reveals to him that she is a thief, the greatest thief in all the land. Graham wants to repay her, for she not only helped him steal the bread, but also gave him a pouch full of gold. She's not looking for any sort of reward however, and after making a rather lewd joke, she disappears into the night. Quietly, with only the stars as he witnesses, he says that she is indeed the greatest thief in the land, for it had only taken moments for her to steal his heart." Belle flushed red as she stopped to look at him guiltily. "Now that I say it out loud, my reasons for choosing that name is horribly inappropriate and practically an insult. Though in the book's defense, it really is very romantic and thought provoking as the thief embodies moral ambiguity." Belle looked at him. "That means a lack of certainty about whether something is right or wrong."

"…How does the story end?" He asked after a moment and Belle's whole face seemed to light up.

"Well first, I have to give you a bit more of the thief's backstory. See, she was born to royalty but because of her evil uncle–" Graham eased back into the cot, listening with fascination, his pain all but forgotten as Belle described a tale full of adventure, betrayal, sacrifice, and love.

November 9, 2011: Storybrooke

Again, common sense seemed to have abandoned him that day. Instead of returning to his apartment where he could shower and change into clothes that weren't wrinkled and somewhat smelly, he went straight for the school. It was only when he was under fluorescent lights in the middle of a hallway that he understood how wild he must look. There was also the fact that interrupting an ongoing class to ask if he'd ever tried to stab Ms. Blanchard was beyond idiotic. He'd wait until after classes let out for the day. However, the idea of hanging around the school for the next few hours made him feel uncomfortable.

He debated going to his place, to clean up, but felt too amped with nervous energy to sit around his apartment and wait for time to pass. Instead he headed to Granny's, which was only a few blocks away, and ordered that glass of water he so desperately needed, along with some lunch. He'd skipped breakfast to take his romp through the woods and was ravenous as a result. He was just polishing off his Rueben Melt when he was disrupted.

"Sheriff Graham." He stilled as he heard Regina's voice behind him. He could tell from her clipped tone that she knew about last night. "I was expecting to see you last night. We had a meeting." Leroy, who sat a few stools over at the counter, snorted loudly. Graham felt his own lips twitch a little in response. Her euphemisms wouldn't fool anyone anymore. Regina glared at Leroy, who was predictably unphased, and gave her a scowl of his own.

"Yeah, something came up." He muttered in answer. He had every intention of ending things with Regina, but he had enough respect for her and her position to not make it a public affair.

"You don't look so good." She stated, leading one to think that his illness could be the reason why he stood her up.

"I'm fine. I just didn't get a lot of sleep last night. Had a bad dream about a wolf." To his surprise, Regina seemed to pale as her eyes widened ever so slightly.

"A wolf?" She repeated staidly, brows furrowing as her cold eyes raked over his body. Graham grimaced. He was really starting to regret his disheveled appearance. "There are no wolves in Storybrooke."

"Rose said she and Emma nearly hit a wolf the night they crashed into the town sign." Ruby pipped up as she paused to refill the sheriff's half-empty glass.

"What?" Graham asked as he whirled towards her. Ruby repeated herself, but it was hardly necessary as the man suddenly remembered that Rose had indeed made such a claim when they'd first met. Emma had confirmed it too. Maybe he should talk to them about the wolf, see if it had acted funny around either of them as well.

"That's enough from the help." The mayor snapped at the waitress, and Ruby left with a shrug. "Honestly, you're in no position to be running around town. You need to lie down and get some sleep. Come, I'll take you home." He knew from the way she grabbed his arm possessively, from that sultry smile on her face, that Regina was referring to her own home, and that he certainly wouldn't be getting any rest. Steeling himself, Graham carefully pried her fingers from his coat sleeve.

"Thank you for the concern, Madame Mayor, but I can handle myself just fine." It was a dismissal and a refusal all in one. He doesn't remember the last time he told Regina no, but the shock on her face told him it was a long time coming. She left in as a brewing storm of stomping stilettos and seething eyes. He sighed, knowing the worst was yet to come.

"You got dangerous taste in women, brother." Leroy grunted as he stood up while placing a small wad of cash on the counter.

"Rose isn't dangerous." Graham argued and the janitor shook his head.

"Oh no? Word around town is that she's chummy with Gold. And she's crossed Regina how many times now? Tell me that doesn't sound like a shitload of trouble." The sheriff could really argue with that. Rose did indeed seem to get involved with situation after situation. The news that she knew Gold wasn't something he was aware of, but Graham didn't consider it be problematic. He'd never possessed any negative feelings towards Mr. Gold. Graham had not once had any issues with the man as his landlord, nor as a private citizen. In fact, he kind of found the pawnbroker amusing on the few occasions he got to watch Gold wind Regina up.

"Guess I like trouble then." He said with a crooked smile, which made Leroy roll his eyes. Glancing down at his watch, Graham nodded to the janitor before settling his own bill. "Thanks for the meal, Ruby." He quickly made his way back to the school and nearly sighs in relief as he hears a bell ring upon entering the building. Children pour into the halls and he easily moves with the crowd, offering a smile to the few kids who call out to him. When he reaches Mary Margaret's classroom it's already empty.

"Mary Margaret?" He says, announcing himself. "Can I talk to you?"

"Graham?" The teacher turned to her, putting the textbooks in her arms on her desk. "What's the matter?" Her face scrunches up in concern. "Are you okay? Did something happen with Rose?"

"Rose is fine, as far as I know." He replied, a little amused by that last question. "I think we, uh…" How was he supposed to start this conversation? "I think we know each other."

"Of course we do." She replied with a smile.

"No, no, no. Not from here." He denied as he moved closer. "Not from Storybrooke."

"From where, then?" Now she just looked confused. He wasn't doing a good job explaining himself, was he?

"Another life."

"Another…? I'm sorry, I don't think I understand."

"Mary Margaret, how long have we known each other?" She paused to think, a frown marring her face.

"Um, I don't know." She shook her head. "A while."

"Do you remember when we met?" He asked quickly, his frantic drive resuming after having grown subdued over the last few hours. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

"…Um, no." She blinked at him, surprised at her lapse in memory. "No, I don't."

"Me neither." He replied, watching her steadfastly. "I can't remember when I met you, or when I met anyone. Isn't that odd?"

"I don't know." She replied thoughtfully. "I mean, I suppose, but I think that's just life. Things get hazy."

"…Have I ever hurt you?"

"Oh, Graham." She leaned forward to lay a comforting hand upon his. "No, of course not. What is going on?" He looked down at her hand, he was tempted to take it. He felt like a ship lost at sea. Like a small child abandoned in woods at night. He thought about what Gold had said earlier that day. Dreams—memories of past lives. Could such a thing really exist?

"Do you believe in other lives?" The question slipped out, but he didn't regret asking it. Mary Margaret, bless her, didn't look at him like he was crazy or even pull away.

"Like heaven?" She prompted gently.

"I mean like past lives." To his surprise, she smiled, though it was a weak thing.

"You've been talking to Henry."

"Henry?" What did Regina's boy have to do with anything?

"Well, he has this book of stories." She began sheepishly. "He's been going on about how he thinks we're all characters from them. That we're all from another land, we've just forgotten who we really are." That sounded… like it was feasible? Understandable? Familiar? He must've made a face because Mary Margaret was finally looking at him like he was off his rocker. "Which, of course, makes no sense.

"Right." He assured her. "No, of course."

"Graham." Oh no, now she sounded concerned. Then Mary Margaret surprised him as leaned over and placed the underside of her forearm against his forehead. "Ah! You are burning up." He suddenly became aware of the sweat trailing down the side of his temple, and how it had gathered at the base of his neck. "Go home and get some rest. I think you'll feel much better after you've had some sleep."

"Right." He had no intention of doing that, however. "You're absolutely right. I'm sorry to disturb you." He only managed to get a few feet away before he turned back to her. For some reason, he was struck by the strong urge to bow. "I thank you." The sentence hung strangely in the air. It sounded archaic, old-fashioned, like something you'd hear in a thespian play. Yet, somehow, they flowed off his tongue naturally.

"Of course."

He needed to speak with Henry.

November 9, 2011: Storybrooke

Rose had accompanied Emma to the station that morning. It seemed like the best place to run into Graham, since she knew he was most likely chasing his spirit animal through the woods. Yet as the day rolled on there was no sign of him. Emma, she could see, was not taking this as a good sign and likely believed that Graham's absence meant that he had chickened out on his declaration to break up with Regina. She huffed and puffed as she marched around the station, shuffling files and scowling surly at her computer screen. Rose thought about offering to help, but ultimately decided to take a nap on the cot in one of the cells. Emma had looked at her like she was crazy, but had eventually returned to her work with noticeably less noise.

Once noon rolled around, Rose picked up lunch from Granny's since somebody needed to be at the station. They decided to meal their meals at Graham's desk as some petty revenge, where she accidentally dropped ketchup on some of the papers sprawled across his desk. Emma had tried to "help", but her used napkin only managed to further spread the mess. Afterwards, the Savior got back to work, while Rose popped in her earbuds, spending the next few hours with ACDC, Frank Sinatra, and Aretha Franklin.

Later, she watched the blonde linger by Graham's desk after setting down another file. Emma picked something up, a red plastic dart, and looked it over for a moment before taking aim. She missed the dart board entirely, causing Rose to snicker. The Savior silently offered her a second dart as a challenge, and she took it with a smirk. Sure, a dart was in no way similar to a knife, but Rose was certain she had more than enough skill to make up the difference. One throw later proved she was right as the dart landed just outside the bullseye.

"Lucky shot." Emma grumbled good naturedly while the faux blonde stuck her nose in the air.

"Nope. That was all skill, baby." She moved to retrieve the darts, both red and black, when the sound off heels clicking against the linoleum floor caught her attention.

"Our taxes always hard at work, I see." For the first time since they met, the Evil Queen gave Emma a dismissive glance before focusing on Rose with an unsurprising amount of venom in her eyes.

"Graham isn't here. I assumed he was with you." Emma announced as she leaned against her desk and crossed her arms.

'Yeah and dump your evil controlling ass.' Rose added silently. As she looked at the mayor though, she found that Reggie didn't look like she'd just gone through a breakup. In fact, the woman's expression turned downright smug.

"Oh, so you're aware of us?" Emma clenched her teeth while resisting to throw her sister a look. So, the sheriff hadn't gone through with it, huh? The Savior doesn't know why she's surprised. He'd lied to her, hadn't he? Or course he would lie to Rose too. "Good, that's why I'm here." The mayor turned towards the older sister. "Because I'm also aware of your relationship with him."

"Rose don't have a relationship with him." Emma replied before the faux blonde could get a word out.

"Oh? So, nothing's ever happened between the two of them?" She spared Emma an unimpressed scowl. "You forget, Miss Swan—I have eyes everywhere."

"Nothing that meant anything."

"I beg to differ." Rose announced, a little annoyed that she was being talked over when she was the one being accused here. "It most certainly meant something."

"Did it?" Reggie turned to her, that knife edge smile coming into play as she prepared to sink the dagger. "Because I'm convince that you and your sister are incapable of feeling anything for anyone else. There's a reason you're all the other has, isn't there?" The comment was meant to sting, but while Neal would always be a sore point for Emma, neither of them saw any shame in how they leaned on each other.

"Projecting much?" Rose muttered, inwardly enjoying how Reggie's face spasmed in response.

"With all due respect, the way we live our lives is none of your business." Emma stated, taking the high road once again.

"Until it infringes on my life." The Queen took a step towards Rose, her body posed and stretched tall, utilizing every extra inch she had to intimidate the shorter woman. "Keep away from Graham, Ms. Booker. You're putting thoughts in his head. Thoughts that are not in his best interest. You are leading him on a path to self-destruction. Stay away." As Reggie left without further comment, Rose slowly turned towards Emma, who wore an expression of disbelief.

"What the hell is this Days of our Lives crap that you've dragged me into?"

"Oh, Swan Lake, if anything this is Dark Shadows."

June 14, 1981: Enchanted Forest

The Huntsman did his absolute best to keep his budding friendship with Belle a secret. He knew if Regina knew about it, she would punish the both of them. The Evil Queen was unbelievably petty, and she never needed an excuse to cause others pain.

In his head, it sounded simple enough, but he found it hard to put into practice. Graham, something he'd hesitantly began to call himself, wanted to spend every spare moment he had with Belle. She was his only source of kindness in the castle. Her voice and gentle touch were a balm to the cruelty the Queen subjected him to daily. Her stories were a gift, miraculous and so unexpected. The Old Lady hadn't known how to read and the stories she'd know had been short cautionary tales with very few happy endings.

So, he was tempted, very much so, to hide away in Belle's cell and allow himself to fantasize about a world where the villains always lost and Happily Ever After would be awarded to those who earned it. Occasionally, there would be a story where a character may die, whether from self-sacrifice or as victim, and the Huntsman thought he would dislike such tales, but he found that some of saddest ones quickly became his favorite.

Belle's grand fables of adventures and companionship sometimes made him wonder if he'd missed out on something by turning his back to humanity. He'd always believed that people were dishonorable, violent, and selfish creatures, but… Belle wasn't like that, not with soft smiles and caring demeanor. Snow White had written that letter of remorse and forgives, even though Regina had ordered her death. Even Old Lady, stern as she'd been, had taken it upon herself to help a child that wasn't her responsibility.

That was another reason why it was so difficult to maintain his distance. Belle was the epitome of goodness. She didn't deserve to be locked away in Regina's tower. He hadn't yet asked why she was being held prisoner, he could never seem to work up the nerve, but he was certain it was undeserved. So, he did his best to make their brief time together pleasant, or at the very least, bearable. He sat with her in that cell for hours when it was his turn for guard duty. He always brought food and water with him, which she took gratefully. He knew the guards only brought her a lone cup of water and a few slices of bread for every meal and it was taking its toll.

As he relieved the guard standing outside Belle's cell, the man looked oddly thankful.

"She's been sick all morning." The guard complained as he rushed past. Now that he mentioned it, there was a faint smell of sickness in the air. Graham knocked on the door, worried for his friend.

"Belle, it's me. Can I come in?"

"…Yes." The weak replied did nothing to ease his concerns. He stepped in the room and closed the door behind him before turning his sights on Belle. She was curled up on the cot, looking wan and pale.

"Are you alright?" He asked as he darted towards her. "Do you need more water?" He untied the deerskin pouch from his waist and refilled her tin cup, which was indeed empty. He hesitantly pulled out the boiled chicken strips he'd wrapped in a cloth and offered it too her. "I don't suppose you're hungry. The guard said you'd been–" He was cut off as Belle, after taking one glance at the food, dove for the bucket beside her cot and vomited. He grimaced as he watched her, unsure of how to help.

"…Something's happened." Belle said in a hush after she was finished. She eased back onto her cot and stared up at him with a look he didn't know how to describe. "Something as equally as wonderful as it is awful." He frowned.

"How can something be wonderful and awful at the same time?" For once, she didn't answer his question as she circled here hands around her belly.

"I'm late." She muttered; eyes cast towards the floor. "I didn't notice. I'm 8 weeks late, how could I not notice?"

"Late for what?" That seemed to catch Belle's attention and she offered him a watery smile.

"I'm with child." It took a long moment before the words and what they meant clicked into place. Then Graham saw red.

"Did one of the guards–"

"No." Belle was quick to assure him. "No, they may hit me from time to time, but they've never touched. Not like that." The relief that she hadn't suffered the same way he did at Regina's hands lasted only for a few moments as he registered that confession that the guards did still hurt her. He wished he could snarl at them as he claimed Belle as his pack, to tell that harming her meant death, but he could not. Such a declaration of loyalty would only infuriate Regina and lead to an even worse punishment. "When I said I was late, I meant–" She stopped and blushed heavily. "Well, all you really need to know is that it means I became pregnant weeks ago, before Regina imprisoned me."

"…And the father?" He asked warily. "You wanted him? He didn't–"

"He didn't do anything that I didn't want." She answered immediately, her cheeks still red even as a small smile formed on her face. "He was gentle and attentive. He didn't hurt me." Her smile turned into a frown. "Not then at least." He opened his mouth to ask more questions and she shook her head fondly before patting the spot next to him on her cot. "I suppose it's about time I told you why the Queen captured me. You see, I was born in Marchlands. It's a small fiefdom far to the south of here, bordered by barren mountains on one side, and treacherous marshes on the other. We were a small part of a greater kingdom called Avonlea."

"Avonlea fell at the end of summer last year." The Huntsman muttered. "The Ogres destroyed the kingdom. I heard the royal bloodline were all dead." Regina had spoken about it at length with her Magic Mirror. Apparently, enough though the kingdom would be easy to conquer, she claimed it was now too destitute to be of any interest. "The throne was passed onto a minor lord whose fiefdom fared better than the others." He knew the man's name. "King Maurice, that was his name." Belle gaped at him.

"Papa is the king of Avonlea?" It was his turn to stare at her in surprise.

"King Maurice is your father?" She nodded. "I heard rumors that his daughter had gone missing. They say she was taken by a beast. He's offering a reward for anyone who saves her."

"I wasn't taken." Belle remarked, her face hardening into a glare. "And ––— is not a beast." There was a pocket of silence in the middle of her sentence, her mouth silently forming a name he could not hear. As far as he knew though, there was only one name that had a taboo on it.

"You're talking about the Dark One?"

"I made deal with him. He would banish the Ogres and save my people. In return, I would go away with him, forever, to serve as his caretaker." She gave a wistful smile. "He never struck me, even if he had a bit of a temper and could be unkind at times. Things certainly weren't easy in the beginning." She gave a shot laugh. "I still remember the first night. I was preparing his tea and he made this garish quip about my having to tend to the pelts he skinned from children. I was so horrified I dropped his teacup. It broke, leaving a chip in the lip. When I showed it to him, I thought for sure I would be punished, but then he grinned at me and said it was just a cup."

"I was in his home from the beginning of August last year till the end of April. You wouldn't believe some of the things I experienced! Why within the first three days a thief with a magic bow broke into the Dark Castle and tried to steal a fairy's wand. I set the thief go, even though I knew it would mean defying the Dark One. I'll admit I feared that I would take the thief's place in the Dark One's dungeon, but I couldn't sit by and do nothing. And he was furious, let me tell you, especially when he learned that the thief had helped himself to the wand on his way out. To teach me a lesson, the Dark One made me accompany him as he tracked down the thief. I could only plead with him to spare the man as he took aim with the thief's enchanted bow, which mind you, ensured that any arrow shot form it never missed its target. We found that the man had stolen the wand to heal the woman he loved, who was pregnant and ill. The Dark One let them go." She smiled widely, seemingly lost in her memories.

"…And you grew to care for him." Graham asked curiously.

"Yes, and then I fell in love with him." Her expression became melancholy as her arms tightened around her stomach. "And I know he came to love me too. You see, even though our deal was forever, I confided in him my dreams of seeing the world. So, he let me go. He told me to head into town to fetch some straw and conceded that he never expected to see me again." I was so confused. I thought of returning home and seeing my Papa again, of setting out on my own journeys to explore the world and experience my own adventures. But the very idea of leaving him on his lonesome, the image of him sitting at that spinning wheel and trying to forget, was too painful to ignore." Her expression once again changed, this time becoming a glare that was aimed at the door. "Then the Queen appeared. She stopped me on the road and told me the Dark One was cursed—that True Love's kiss would free him." She sighed. "Looking back, I don't know what I was thinking. I just wanted to help him. I thought he would be happy, but when he started to change, he went mad." She shuddered. "He started screaming at me, at the mirror, at the Queen, claiming that it was all a ploy to make him powerless."

"He threw me in the dungeon, and I thought that he might just leave me there to rot. But hours later he came to my cell." Belle closed her eyes, looking pained. "I think he was trying to prove that I didn't love him. Maybe he believed that I would reveal my real intentions, that I'd be too disgusted to touch him, or let him touch me." Here she smiled sheepishly. "It felt like he was challenging me to be honest, but my love is not so flimsy as to fold in the face of intimacy. I welcomed his every caress, moaned in pleasure, and stived to make him reciprocate in kind. I praised him, begged him for more, and uttered words full of admiration." In that moment, Belle looked to be genuinely in love. "I never regrated our union for a second. He must have though, because the very next morning, he exiled me from his home."

"He's a fool." Graham bit out viciously and she smiled sadly.

"Yes, I called him that too, as well as a coward. I could tell it hurt him, but he hurt me first. I left like he wanted, but I didn't go back home. I was too brokenhearted, and I knew if I returned papa would force me to marry Gaston." The Huntsman looked at her in confusion and she shook her head. "That's a story for another time. Suffice to say, I never loved Gaston. He was a violent man. Instead, I found myself joining a hunt to stop a Yaoguai—a beast that was terrorizing a providence in the east. I met another woman, a soldier named Mulan, who was also hunting the Yaoguai. I found out however, that the beast was actually a man under a curse. Using Fairy Dust that a friendly dwarf had given me, I broke the man's curse. He presented himself as Prince Phillip, who was on a quest of his own to save his princess from a Sleeping Curse. I introduced him to Mulan and parted ways, intent on returning to the Dark One. I would convince him that my love was true, but then…" She sighed as her eyes roamed her prison cell.

"Then Regina captured you." Graham finished miserably.

"And now I find that I'm carrying the Dark One's child." She turned to him then, fear and alarm overwhelming her features. "Oh Gods, what do I do, Graham? What if the Queen tries to hurt our baby to get back at him?" The Huntsman felt an echo of dread bubble inside him at that very real possibility. He carefully wrapped an arm around Belle, who buried her face in his chest. "I can't! I won't let her hurt my baby!"

"Hush Belle, we'll think of something."

They had to.

November 9, 2011: Storybrooke

Graham, after making sure that Regina's car was not in the driveway, rang the doorbell. He swiped at his forehead with the back of his hand, narrowing his eyes at the visible residue of sweat he can see. Perhaps he was just sick. Maybe these visions were just delusions from his overheated brain, but…

And that was the clincher, wasn't? That damn but, that faint what if, the nagging doubt that refused to leave him alone. All of it was a whisper in the back of his head, a vague sensation of familiarity that drove him onwards and demanded he keep pushing until all the clues were sprawled out before him like one of his cases. He clenched his fists as his sides, resisting the desire to throw his head back at howl at the sky.

"Hey, Sheriff. My mom's not here." Henry greeted as he opened the door and Graham shoved down everything he was thinking and feeling to smile sincerely at the child. He had spent sleepless night comforting him as a babe when he'd contracted colic and Regina had been too overwhelmed to do it. He drove Henry around in his cruiser, took the kid to get ice cream, helped tied his shoes. He may not be the boy's father, but Graham can't deny that there weren't moments where he'd wished otherwise.

"Actually, uh, I'm here to see you, Henry." He said, his smile becoming a little strained. "I was hoping you could help me."

"Help you with what?"

"It's about your book." Henry tilted his head and Graham took a breath. "Am I…in it?" The ten-year-old's eyes widened before a large grain spread across his face.

"Of course you are! Everyone in Storybrooke is." He jumped forwards to grab his hand and pulled him inside. "C'mon, the book's in my room." Upon reaching the boy's room, Henry dove for his backpack and pulled out a thick brown book with the title 'Once Upon A Time' written in gold on the front. The kid plopped down onto his bed and Graham sat beside him. "Now, we need to figure out who you are."

"I've been seeing things and they feel real, like they're actually happening to me, but they come and go in flashes." Henry let out a low hum as he opened the book in his lap. One page was full of text, but the other had the illustration of a deer. It was a little bit messy, the lines bleeding into each other since the artist seemed to have used watercolor paints as a medium.

"Okay, but when did your flashes begin exactly?" The sheriff's mind jumped to the first vision he'd experienced and flushed lightly as he avoided direct eye contact with the boy.

"Uh, the first one happened right after I kissed Rose."

"You kissed my aunt?" Henry said, making the same expression he did when he came home from kindergarten after learning about cooties. "What did you see?"

"A wolf." He answered, grimacing as he hesitated to continue. "I also saw that I had a knife in my hand… and I was with Mary Margaret."

"Were you about to hurt her?" Henry asked knowingly and Graham nodded.

"Yes!" He shot the boy a look. "How did you know that?"

"Because Mary Margaret is Snow White." He said as he flipped a few pages, revealing a bleedy picture of a black-haired woman wearing a white gown. "Which makes you the Huntsman." On the opposite page was a blurry man with a fur cloak and brown hair with a dagger covering the lower half of his face. Graham reached out to trace the image, and although it sounded absolutely nuts, the picture invoked a sense of intimacy.

"So, you really think that I could be another person."

"It makes sense." The ten-year-old shrugged. "You were raised by wolves—that's why you keep seeing one. It's your friend, your guide. It's trying to help you." That sounded oddly right. The wolf had let him pet it…

"And the reason I'm remembering this is because I kissed your aunt?" The sheriff muttered, before shaking his head. "How is that possible?" Henry went quiet for a moment.

"The only thing I can think of is True Love's kiss, it can break any curse, but–"

"What?" Graham asked quickly, not willing to ponder Henry's naïve claim. Yes, he likes Rose, and yes, their kiss made him feel things he couldn't really describe, but love… it was much too soon for that kind of thinking. He'd been with Regina for years, but he didn't love her. He couldn't fall for someone he'd known for only a few weeks. Right?

"There might be more to it. Rose is from the Enchanted Forest, but somehow, she made it to this world without get sucked up in the Curse like everyone else." He frowned, looking a little frustrated with his own answer. "I'm still looking for her in my book."

"What—What happened after I spared Snow White?" Henry looked up at him with pleading eyes.

"The Evil Queen took your heart." He confessed lowly, his words sounding like an apology. "She ripped it out. It's kind of her thing. She never wanted you to be able to feel again." Graham swallowed harshly as the hollowness in his chest reverberated incriminatingly. Hadn't he admitted last night that he didn't feel anything, that couldn't remember that last time he'd felt anything deeper than shallow impressions? He opened his mouth to ask who the Evil Queen was, but he suspected, that if he really thought about it, he already knew the answer.

"Let me see that book." Henry handed it to him and slowly he began to turn the pages. Snow White is racing through the woods on one, and meeting a woman wearing a bright red cloak on another. His hands stilled when his eyes land on the blotchy water painting of a dark-haired woman wearing a black dress and red lipstick—His whole body shuddered as the Evil Queen suddenly turned towards him, her hand piercing through cloth, skin, sinew, and bone. He can feel her fingers wrapping around his heart, her nails digging in like claws. He can only scream silently, all breath driven out of his lungs from the burst of crushing pain. When she pulls away and he can see his heart in her too tight grip. It's glowing red and beating frantically, like caught prey struggling to get away from its predator. Behind the Queen, there're rows of metal containers where and a symbol was imprinted on the front of each one—Graham gasped as he came back to himself, shaking slightly even as he pushed the book towards Henry. He forced himself to point at the same symbol. He'd thought they looked like antlers earlier, but now they look more like thorny stems.

"What's that? I saw that, too. The wolf was howling at it."

"That's her vault. It's where she put your heart."

"The wolf wants me to find it." Graham realized. He closed the book and handed it back to the boy. "Thank you, Henry." He darts down the stairs, taking two at a time and raced outside down the walkway. He's completely taken aback to find both Emma and Rose climbing out of their car. His deputy holds her hands up, looking worried as her hazel eyes sweep over him from head to toe. Rose just quietly leans against the car, her face just as expressionless as it had been last night.

"Hey there." Emma says lowly, like he needs to be reasoned with or calmed down. "Hear you're having a rough day." He peered at her with narrowed eyes.

"Who says?" The last thing he needs is Sydney writing an article on his pending insanity.

"Pretty much everyone." His deputy admits with a shrug and he grimaces. He's been running around town all day; he's not surprised someone let Emma know. Though, he'd put money on Mary Margaret being the one to call his partner. "I think maybe you need to go home and get some rest." Oh, it was definitely Mary Margaret.

"I'm fine." Graham grunted, his gaze landing on Rose, before dropping to the pavement. He wants to go to her, wants to kiss her again. He wants to feel whole again, like he already has his heart back.

"No, Graham, you're not fine. You just went to see a ten-year-old for help."

"He's the only one making any sense."

"Not sure if that counts when you didn't talk with me at all." Rose responded, and he's so caught off guard by the remark that he can only stare at her. Kissing her was what caused the visions to start, he's sure of that much. Henry thought she had to be something special. Maybe Rose does know something that can help him. He begins to walk towards her, and she meets him in the middle of the road. He sees Emma roll her eyes, but she visibly back off and grants them some semblance of privacy. "So, talk to me Graham Cracker. What's going on?"

"It's my heart, Rose. I need to find it."

"Okay. How?" She knows what he means of course, but Emma is only a few feet away.

"I just need to follow the wolf."

"What?" That was Emma, unsurprisingly. "What wolf?"

"From my dreams." Graham answered plainly, his chin jutting out defiantly in preparation for whatever derogatory comment her sister might make. "It's going to help me find my heart."

"I'm sorry. We thought you were talking in a metaphor here." She shoots Rose a wide-eyed look before refocusing on the sheriff. "You really think you don't have a heart?"

"It's the only thing that makes any sense. It's the only thing that explains why I don't feel anything!"

"Listen to me, Graham. You have a heart." The sheriff shook his head. "Rose can prove it." Emma reached over, grabbed Rose's hand, and placed it on Graham's chest, directly over the spot where his heart should be beating. "See? It's beating. It's real."

The only problem was that Rose didn't feel a heartbeat. She said nothing, but she couldn't help the flash of horror that filled her face before she managed to hide it. Emma was thankfully too focused on Graham to see it, but the Cursed Huntsman witnessed her slip.

"No." He said while laying his hand over Rose's and giving it a gentle squeeze. "It's the Curse."

"You can't really believe that's true." Emma groaned, sounding exhausted and frustrated. She opened her mouth, likely about to take off the kiddy gloves and dole out some harsh truths, when her eyes darted to something beyond Graham. Rose followed her gaze and gaped.

"What?" The sheriff asked before moving to see what was behind him. It was the wolf of course, standing right there on someone's lawn in the middle of town. It's heterochromia irises of red and yellow stared the three of them down before the wolf broke off into a run.

"That's the wolf we almost hit." Rose proclaimed and Graham looked back at her before he wordlessly began to give chase. She didn't hesitate to follow him.

"What are you doing?" Emma shouted before she too proceeded to follow the group. "Who runs after a wild animal?!" Neither she nor Graham responded, and the Savior grunted loudly in displeasure. They followed the wolf all the way to the cemetery, where it came to a stop under a weeping willow and turned to watch their approach. "Rose! Graham, Be careful."

"He's my friend." The sheriff stated as he placed a calming hand on Emma's shoulder. "He won't hurt us."

"Yeah right." Emma panted. Rose stared at the wolf, and felt an odd tugging on her mind at she locked gazes with him. There was something about him that resonated with her. Red and yellow, red and yellow… was did that feel important? The wolf lifted his head to howl briefly, then jogged further into the graveyard. Rose and Graham both move to follow him, while Emma sighed gustily and rolled her eyes skywards. They lost sight of the wolf as he rounded the crypt, and while Graham scanned the area in confusion, Rose could only stare at the crypt before them, feeling the Sword of Damocles swinging from overhead. Graham's sights soon landed on the crypt as well and understanding dawned on him upon seeing the symbol from his visions.

"What is it?" Emma asked, sounding, and looking entirely done with today. "What are we looking at?"

"It's my heart. It's in there." Without hesitation he plowed ahead and Emma, arguably to only one amongst their group thinking logically, dove forwards to stop him. "I have to look in there."

"Oh, no! Stop. Stop." She aimed a glare at Rose from over his shoulder. "I could use a little help her."

"I have to get in there, please–"

"Graham, seriously?! You really think that your heart is in there?" Rose watched as he nodded stubbornly, and Emma turned to her for backup. Which, honestly, she should know better by this point. "Are we really gonna break into a mausoleum?"

"Well, everyone inside is dead, so I don't think they'll mind." The blonde's jaw dropped a little before a stern look swept over her face.

"You know what? Whatever. I don't care anymore." She marched up to the crypt and tried to open the doors, which she quickly learned were locked. "Urgh! Come on!" Annoyance reaching its peak for today's bullshit, Emma raised her foot and kicked the doors open. To her surprise it flung open with a loud crack. She smiled grimly at the dark room that greeted them as she heard Rose whine behind her.

"Aw man, I always wanted to do that." The three entered the crypt with little fuss after that. The lone window at the top provided little light considering that dusk had begun to set in. Rose pulled out her phone and activated the flashlight feature, an action which Emma copied.

"Okay." Graham said while shooting their iPhones a look. "I can see how cellphone might be useful." The nonsequential stateman had Rose pulling a frown while Emma looked a little smug. "May borrow yours?" He asked the faux blonde, who easily passed over her phone. "Thanks."

"Sure thing, babe." She heard Emma snort as Graham smiled wanly. It soon faded as he looked around the room, attention lingering on the marble casket in the center.

"It's got to be in here. Somewhere." He ran his hands along the blank space of the back wall. "There's got to be a hidden door. A lever." Emma shot Rose another look of concern as they watched Graham move onto the shelves lining the walls with urns. "Something." His tone had turned desperate by now and he snatched one of the urns into his hands, struggling and grunting as he failed to remove the lid. That seemed to be the last straw for the Savior.

"Graham. Hey." She took the urn from him, returning it to the shelf. "Graham, there's nothing in here."

"There has to be." He gasped, sweat practically dripping down his face in streams. His blown pupils zoomed in a Rose while his expression turned earnest. "If there isn't, then–"

"It's okay, Graham Cracker." Rose soothed as she stepped closer and placed her hands on his cheeks, her right thumb stroking lightly against his whiskers. Frankly, he looked a mess. Hair matted down and soaked wit seat, his skin so pale she could see the blue veins underneath. Dark bags encircled his eyes, giving him a gaunt, haunted appearance. "It's all going to be okay. I promise."

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Reggie suddenly shouted, ruining the somber moment. Rose glanced at the woman from over his shoulder. The mayor stood a few feet away from the crypt and was carrying a small bouquet of white roses. She looked livid.

"Spring cleaning?" She tossed back gaily, which of course, only made the Queen even angrier.

"What are you doing here?" Emma asked with a bit of skepticism, like suspecting that the mayor might have been following them.

"Bringing flowers to my father's grave like I do every Wednesday." Reggie snipped back, her eyes still locked onto Rose and promising retribution.

"Don't blame them." Graham said as he pushed past both sisters to confront the mayor. "It's my fault. I wanted to look in there."

"Really?" The Queen's tone dropped a little as she assessed her Cursed Huntsman. "Why? What were you looking for?"

"Nothing." He replied forlornly. "It was… it was nothing." Reggie didn't look like she believed him.

"You don't look well, dear." She said after a moment. The mayor grabbed Graham's arm and moved with the confidence that he would meekly go along with it. "Let's take you home." Rose marched forwards automatically, her mouth opening to demand that she let him go, when Graham tore himself free of her grasp.

"No, I told you earlier, Regina." He took a large step backwards, brining him even with Rose, who slid her hand into his. "I don't want to go home." His grip tightened. "Not with you."

"Oh?" Regina hissed, her dark eyes narrowing in on their clasped hands. "But you'll go with her."

"Hey." Emma rumbled from where she stood behind the trio. "This is between you two—leave Rose out of it."

"She's right. It's between us." Yet even with this declaration, Graham didn't let go of her hand. "And things have to change. It's been a long time coming."

"I find that hard to believe." The Evil Queen remarked with a sneer.

"It has nothing to do with Rose." He refuted more sternly than before, shifting to stand in front of her more protectively. The faux blonde had the pleasure of seeing Reggie's nostrils flare in fury. "I've realized that I don't feel anything, Regina, and I know now that it's not me–" He looked back at Rose, his face softening, and she knew he was remembering their kiss "It's you."

"So, you're leaving me for her?" The disgust in her tone made Emma glare at her warningly.

"Not just her. I'm leaving you for me too." Rose resisted the urge to fidget. Her insides were doing that distracting fluttering again.

"Graham, you're not thinking straight." Reggie began softly, trying to ensnare him with sultry eyes now that exerting her authority wasn't working. She even went so far as to reach for his other hand. It quickly proved to be the wrong choice of manipulation.

"Actually, for the first time, I am." He snarled while withdrawing from the mayor, sounding angry for the first time since Rose had met him. "I'd rather have nothing than settle for less. Nothing? Is better than what we have. I need to feel something, Regina, and the only way to do that is to give myself a chance." He paused as he turned to look at Rose, a shy smile working its way onto his. "A chance with you, if you'll let me." She swallowed around the sudden lump in her throat and could only nod, unable to muster up a witty reply.

"Graham–"

"I'm sorry." He said with a shake of his head. "It's over." The Evil Queen turned to Rose then, tears welling up in her eyes as hatred and scorn devoured her features.

"I don't know what I ever did to you, Miss Booker, to deserve this." Her voice shook even as something indescribable seemed to harden her. "To have the two of you coming after everything I hold dear."

"I told you—it's not her. It's not either of them."

"None of this happened until they got here." Reggie snapped and Rose glared.

"Did you ever stop to think that maybe the problem isn't with us, but with you?" She remarked acerbically. "Crazy thought, I know."

"Excuse me?"

"Henry came and found me." Emma announced as she moved to stand beside her sister. "Graham kissed Rose. Both were miserable. Maybe, Madam Mayor, you need to take a good hard look in the mirror and ask yourself why that is."

"Won't take much soul searching." Rose interrupted, disdain dripping from her tone. "People don't tend to find controlling bitches appealing." She spotted the incoming punch just a little too late. She managed to lean back enough so that it clipped her brow instead of landing solidly on her cheek. The momentum was enough to send her stumbling into Graham's side.

"Regina!" The sheriff shouted angrily as he scrambled to catch Rose. Emma, since her hands were currently free, took it upon herself to retaliate. With years of training, she dipped her body to the side, rose on the balls over her feet, brought her hands up to her face, and landed a punch right on Reggie's smirking mouth. Rose was admittedly a little impressed that the mayor managed to on stay on her feet, swaying or not. Of course, her the Savior wasn't done yet. She grabbed the mayor be the shoulders and slammed her up against the crypt, her arm reeling back to deliver another jab. "Emma, no!"

"Emma, yes!" Rose cheered heartily, a smile spreading across her face as Graham rushed forwards to pull his deputy off his ex-lover. He doesn't manage to separate without any more blows being exchanged, much to the faux blonde's disappointment.

"You ever touch my sister again and a fat lip will be the least of your problems." Emma swore, her hazel-green eyes burning with protective instincts. Still incensed, she grabbed Rose by the shoulder and ushered them away, muttering a litany of complaints and insults. The sheriff followed in the wake of their steps, waylaid only for a moment as Regina grabbed his arm.

"Graham." She whispered expectantly, and where that tone had worked without fail a hundred times in the past, he found it was now easy to walk past her without so much as a second look. He mutely followed the sisters back to their bug. Emma murmured something as she gently pushed Rose to lean against the side of the car before ducking inside in search of something. He gasped when he got a good look at the damage Regina had done. Blood painted the left side of Rose's face; a decent cut having formed along the ridge of her eyebrow. He remembered too late the mayor's penchant for wearing rings and he grimaced as he rummaged through his pockets for a tissue or handkerchief of some kind. However, the only thing he found was lint.

"Rose." He uttered lowly, as he quickly moved closer to her and brushed aside the strands of hair which had slipped free of her usual ponytail at some point. "I'm so sorry you got dragged into this. I never wanted–"

"Hey, don't look so glum, Graham Cracker." She interrupted him with that impish look that always made him want to smile in kind. "Head wounds always look more serious than they really are."

"That, and you always bleed like stuck pig." Emma announced flatly from inside the bug. She straightened and passed over a few tissues which Rose pressed to her wound.

"True." She smiled again. "Thanks, Swan Lake."

"There's a first aid kit down at the station." Graham offered and his deputy stared at him for a moment. He bore her scrutiny solemnly, wondering if this would be the point where turned in her badge and warned him to stay away from her sister.

"Hop in the back." Emma said tersely, and he gaped after her in surprise.

"That's as close to approval as you're gonna get." Rose revealed from beside him, a beaming grin taking up half of her face. He quietly climbed into the backseat; his knees bending awkwardly at the lack of leg room. It took less than ten minutes to reach the station and for him to retrieve the kit. Emma, who he only just realized had blood on her hands, apparently from trying to stem the cut on Rose's eyebrow, left to go wash her hands.

Graham took out the antiseptic gel-paste which carefully dabbed onto one of the many cotton balls he found with the kit. He turned to Rose, who sat on a desk and held back her hair so that he could clean the wound. As gently as he could he tended the injury, frowning at the blood that marred the cotton ball.

"I'm sorry." He apologized again. "I don't know what came over me. I kind of lost my mind."

"No." Rose replied, taking a deep breath before forcing herself to stare into is eyes. "No, you lost your heart." He flushed with embarrassment.

"God, that sounds nuts." He smiled ruefully. "You must've thought I was a complete loon."

"You're not crazy. The Evil Queen did take your heart." His mouth dropped open in surprise, but Rose plowed on. "She took it and used it to control you. You never had a chance."

"No, that's—none of what I saw was real." His mouth felt dry and the same quite dread he'd been feeling all day returned with a vengeance. "I was only tired, feverish."

"Kiss me, Graham." Rose felt gutted as she stared up at him, knowing that doing so would awaken his real memories. "Kiss me like you did last night." She watched as he hesitated. She wouldn't force him—she wouldn't use him the way Regina had—not like that at least. Heedless of the blood drying on her face he bent down, his lips hovering over hers for a moment before connecting. The fluttering returned, greater than before, and a heady warmth began to spread through her body. She felt almost dizzy from the kiss, but then suddenly Graham staggered backwards, and she could tell it worked from the way he stared at her unseeingly.

"I remember." He gasped, his words barely more than a whisper.

"Everything?" She asked weakly, her heart pounding a heavy tempo.

"Yes. I remember everything." He looked at her as if he were seeing her for the first time, his forehead furrowing. "You're Rose?" He shook his head. "But how–" He cut himself off, a scowl taking over his face. "The Curse. How long has it been?"

"Twenty-eight years." She answered and he closed his eyes as if he were in pain. He sighed brokenly and her heart throbbed in sympathy even as the weight of her decisions pressed down on her. He opened his eyes and there was something achingly soft in those blue irises. He moved again, his warm hands comping up to cup her face. "Thank you."

Unseen by both, Emma entered the room, idly whipping her damp hands on her jeans. She paused upon seeing her sister and co-worker sharing a private moment. She was about to try sneaking out of the room when Rose's next statement had her freezing in place.

"…I think could fall in love with you, Graham." His eyes widened, jaw dropping slightly, and Rose could just see the hints of a smile beginning to form at the corner of his lips, when he suddenly pitched forwards. Unbidden, tears sprung to her eyes as she caught him. "Emma!" She shouted and the blonde appeared by her side in an instant.

"What is it? What's wrong with him?!"

"I don't know, he just collapsed!" Rose answered as she struggled with his weight. "Call an ambulance!"

November 9, 2011: Storybrooke

Regina did not leave the graveyard after her confrontation with her Huntsman and those infuriating sisters. Instead, she picked up the flowers she dropped when Miss Swan had punched her and ignored the tears that spilled down her cheeks. With her head held high she entered the mausoleum, glaring at the broken lock on the door. Thankfully, nothing seemed to be out of place inside. She traced the silver plaque upon the marble casket that was inscribed with her father's name and set down the flowers in the middle.

"I love you, daddy." Then, with grim determination, she moved to push the casket to the side, revealing the secret staircase beneath. She withdrew a flashlight from her inner coat pocket and journeyed downward. She ignored the way her lip trembled and instead focused on the fire of betrayal and righteous anger smoldering in her stomach.

Graham had his sealed his fate by choosing Miss Booker over her.

Regina paused in the entryway to her vault, breathing in the musty air deeply. She hadn't been down in years, not since—well, she's not really sure why she was down here. One minute she'd been in her home, then the next she was in her vault, with Henry sleeping in his baby carrier and having no idea how or why she was there. She dismissed the memory, just as she had ten years ago, before walking down the right hallway which led dead end. She pulled back the black curtains and took a moment to let her eyes roam over the rows of drawers. In the silence, she could hear the numerous hearts beating, muffled though they were. Normally the sound brought a satisfied smile to her face, but not now, not today.

Zeroing in on the metal drawer with HG etched in the center, she reached and pulled the drawer out. She took the chest from inside and frowned. It took her a moment to realize that not only did it feel lighter than it should, but there was no tempo from inside. With a burst of fear, she flung open the lid and screamed when she saw that the chest was empty. She threw it down the hallway and turned back to the other drawers. Minutes of frantic checking revealed that Graham's was the only heart that was missing, but hardly found that relieving.

Someone had broken into her vault.

November 9, 2011: Storybrooke

The trip to the hospital was short, but it seemed to drag on for hours. They arrived after the ambulance, which carted Graham to the emergency room, leaving the sisters to pace the waiting room. Well, Emma paced, Rose had sunk into an uncomfortable armchair and closed her eyes. Her tears had dried up during the frantic drive to the hospital and a neutral expression had taken residence on her face.

Mary Margaret came barreling into the waiting room ten minutes later, looking completely out of breath, and after sending Emma a quick glance she quickly made her way to Rose's side.

"Rose, what's going on? What happened to Graham?"

"I don't know." She replied solemnly. "He seemed okay, if a little pale and sweaty. He looked a little ill, you know? Like he had a fever or something."

"Not that he let it slow him down." Emma muttered from where she stood.

"I felt his head when he came to see me at school." Mary Margaret said with a nod. "He was burning up. I told him to go home and rest."

"He just collapsed." The teacher took her hand, patting it in consolation, while Rose did her best to avoid her sister's gaze. She didn't know how much Emma had heard, but considering she wasn't demanding to know why Rose suddenly believed in 'Henry's curse', she likely only heard the tail end of their conversation. Dr. Whale entered the room, drawing their attention, and he didn't look like he came bearing good news.

"How is he?" Emma asked and Whale ran a hand through his hair seemingly vexed.

"We don't know." He uttered tiredly. "Physically there doesn't seem to be anything wrong. His worse symptom is mild dehydration and a slight fever. It wouldn't cause…"

"Wouldn't cause what?" M&M asked and Whale peered at the three of them, frowning bleakly.

"He's asleep and we can't wake him up."

"Are you saying that Graham–" He nodded.

"He's slipped into a coma, and we have no idea why." There wasn't much they could do after that. Whale and his team had no answers, though he admitted there were still a few tests left. He didn't seem particularly hopeful. They weren't allowed to visit Graham yet, not while they were still trying to figure out a diagnosis, so the three women returned to their apartment, after getting Whale to promise that he would call if there was any change.

Rose went to her corner of the apartment and pulled the curtain shut behind her. She could see the silhouette of Emma linger nearby before M&M managed to pull her away. They had a hushed conversation in the kitchen that Rose did her best to ignore. Once her roommates turned in for bed an hour later, she dug into her dresser drawers where a faint thumping could be heard and retrieved Graham's heart. She brought it close to her chest, eyes shut in remorse.

"I'm so sorry." She whispered to the steadily beating organ. She had given a horrible command to it the last night upon reaching a decision. Graham would fall into a deep sleep when he heard a certain phrase—a sleep he wouldn't wake up from until the Curse broke. The trigger had been the confession she'd voiced in the police station.

"I really do think I was falling for you." She rasped, feeling something catch in her chest. "But I don't know how you'll change things. I can't risk it." She didn't know if Graham could hear her, if her voice transferred into his dream, but she already planned to repeat her apology once he was awake. "It's unforgivable, me doing this to you, I know that. Really, I'm no better than Regina, but you're alive and soon–" She paused, swallowing shakily. "Soon, you'll have your heart back. I promise, and I'll take care of it until then. So just—just rest now, Graham." She lowered her head, and even though it was kinda morbid and definitely unsanitary, she gave his heart a light kiss. "I'll keep you safe, Huntsman."

…So… um, Graham's alive! Yay, right? Okay, okay, I know that's not what most of you guys were expecting or hoping for, but this has been the plan from day one. I really couldn't have Graham hanging around, not in the first season in any case. Plus, this will add more drama to Rose and Graham's relationship when he wakes up. Side note, their shipname is Rosen Hunter, patent pending. If any of you can think of a better shipname, please let me know.

I hope I handled the relationship between them okay. I'm most certainly a slow-burn kind of writer, so this was hard for me. When watching the show, there's an obvious chemistry with Emma and Graham, and I can't help but feel that's lacking between Rose and Graham. However, I never wanted to replace Emma with Rose, putting her in the same context and using the same lines—that would've felt cheap. That's why I went with the old "love at first sight" thing, though admittedly it wasn't at first sight. More like love at first kiss.

Rose offers her own complications here as well; in that she doesn't realize that she's already in love with Graham. To her, she feels like "True Love" is something that can only happen to "characters" of the OUAT verse. She doesn't believe that she can meet someone and fall for them in a matter of days like how it happens so often on the show.

In that regard, she shares something with Rumplestiltskin in that they think True Love is something that's just not for them. They don't even know how to recognize it really. Rose can't identify the signs after Graham kisses her, and it isn't until the end of the chapter that she begins to suspect otherwise. By then it's too late, she's already committed to a choice that will hurt Graham, even if she ultimately saves his life in the end.

Be prepared for angst in their future.

–Hexalys