Chapter 5

Present

There was a heavy downpour that began just as Henry's birthmother disappeared into the night. He found it fitting, and stood in the rain as he tried to wrangle the strange feelings that emerged in her presence.

No, it wasn't wrangling them. It was trying desperately to cling to them, as they faded away like sand through his fingers. He tried to concentrate on grasping them together, to linger in feeling. It was almost like he felt around Henry, but more. More complex, more tangible, more real.

But it had faded to such a distant pang, emptiness quick to replace it. Standing in the cold at least made him feel something.

He wasn't sure how long he stood in the rain, how long he let the chill freeze him. When the cold turned to numb, he realized that there wasn't anything left to keep him there, and he wandered back to the cruiser.

The call came in just as he was pulling into the parking lot of his apartment building. A strange flair of both panic and relief hit him, and he hung up on Gold immediately and dialed Franklin's Towing as he drove off again into the night.

The crash site was, thankfully, just as Gold had described. The car wasn't folded in. There was no broken glass, no smoke, no blood. In fact, if it hadn't been for the swerving tire tracks on the road, he'd say the car had been simply parked next to the tree.

The old man smiled when he'd shown up. "Sheriff, good. I'll let you take it from here."

He heard a truck roll up behind him, and watched as the enigmatic man limped away on his cane. There was something so pleased in his expression, something that almost made him chilled.

When he approached the yellow beetle, he did so cautiously. The flashlight's beam cut through the rain, and he found the door to the car open, a book's pages flapping wildly. And there was Emma, hands pillowing her head upon the steering wheel.

His eyebrow cocked up, and he wondered for a moment if she was hurt. He stepped closer, and couldn't help the tug on his lips when he could finally hear. She was snoring.

He sighed aloud, wryly looking down at the prone figure. "I warned you about Regina's drinks," he admonished with a chuckle.

He looked back to find Michael and Billy by the road. "All clear! Go ahead and tow the car into town. I'll take her to the tank to sober up."

Tillman nodded, already headed for his truck. Billy jogged down the hill, making his way to the rear of the vehicle. "Doesn't look too banged up. How many do you think she had?"

Graham reached out and grabbed the limp woman by the shoulder in an attempt to rouse her. Instead, a shock burst from the touch, and he pulled back. It was electric, shooting down his nerves in sparks of warmth, and a vision of a grey wolf flashed behind the lids of his eyes. He frowned. Then, he reached again, more hesitantly. This time, there was nothing but a vague warmth as he shook her gently. She mumbled something unintelligible but didn't wake. "Maybe Regina made it a triple," he said with a sigh.

He carefully extracted her from the car, hooking her upper body beneath the crook of his elbow and her legs over his other forearm. Her head rolled onto his shoulder, and she sighed in sleep. He swallowed. This woman … there was still something so strangely familiar about her, especially now as he felt her weight in his arms.

When he looked up to Billy, the man's head was tilted curiously. "What?" he asked.

Billy shook his head, but there was a trace of amusement in his eyes. "Nothing, Sheriff. The car'll be in the shop when she asks."

Graham nodded, and started up the hill, adjusting Emma as she sunk onto him.

The drive was silent, and he continued to check the rearview mirror each time he stopped at a light. She was out completely, her breathing steady and even.

When he got to the station, he hauled her into his arms again and realized just how empty he had felt in that short time. He took her inside the quiet station, flicking on a light as he passed. Leroy was snoring loudly in his cell, and Marco wasn't due til morning.

She stirred in his arms, twisting close. "Wolf, hmm," she murmured, and buried her face into his chest. He paused, looking down at her. He was overcome with the need to be closer, to protect her. He swallowed again, and focused on her face. He stopped comparing her to Henry, forgetting to distance himself in that way. Her cheeks were a warm pink from either the alcohol or sleep, brow furrowed slightly as she breathed steadily. Her blonde hair spiraled across her face, and she was so familiar that he couldn't breathe for a minute.

He placed her on the bed in the cell, fighting ever instinct that wanted to curl up with her. He knew her, didn't he? Had he met her before Storybrooke, before his life became so mundane? But where? Where had he ever been before Storybrooke?

His mind throbbed, and he turned away, locking the cell behind him as his head split in the throes of a migraine. He couldn't linger on this, on her.

He needed to get away.

x

Eleven Years Ago

x

They had set off to follow the creek once breakfast was finished.

Emma trudged along, her Chucks doing little to support her as she cracked branches and wobbled over stones and roots. Her companion moved effortlessly, weaving through the brush as if it were empty. She reasoned that it made sense; dreams often made her feel heavier and clumsier than she actually was.

But on the other hand, she felt the sweat trickle down her neck. Her ankle twisted as she hopped over a boulder, and felt her throat become parched. That didn't happen in even her most vivid dreams, and it scared her to think about.

She was starting to doubt her own reasoning when he suddenly paused. "The sun's getting high. We should get water."

So, this apparition knew what she was feeling before she did. One point in the dream theory. She took a deep breath, her heart racing from the unfamiliar exercise, and then nodded. She pointed in the direction of the creek, which looked much wider and wilder than it had an hour ago. "Water looks pretty free to me."

He gave a blank expression, not reacting to her attempt at humor. He pulled one of the straps off his shoulder, and she could clearly see that what he was holding was similar to a canteen, the same one she'd used the night before to help bandage up his hand. He held it out to her in a clear offer.

She took it in relief, tossing her head back to waterfall it into her mouth. She groaned in disappointment at the small amount of liquid that came out. "Dammit," she cursed.

He nodded. "Pretty low, but as you said …."

She turned to the rushing water again and nodded. "So, looks kinda fast," she observed, feeling some hesitance peek through.

His chin jerked to a set of stones jutting out. "We'll use those to get out there. It'll be fine."

She followed him to the creekside, and then climbed onto the flat rock. It was high enough that she felt dry and long enough that she felt stable, and she took a second to get her bearings. She watched as he studied the path, hopping out to where the water was deeper.

"Do you actually use that?" she asked suddenly, pointing to the weapon strapped to his back.

He looked up at her, then down at his bow. "Yeah. When we need food or hides or anything else. Used it this morning, for the boar."

"This is a weird dream," she muttered. Her hands pulled through her hair, and she grimaced at the greasy feel. "Like, I didn't actually think I was into fairytales this much."

"Why do you keep insisting it's a dream?"

"Because that's all it could be," she snapped. She surprised herself with how forceful it came out, and looked away sharply. Her palms were sweaty, and she brushed them across her jeans. It was too real, all of this.

He shook his head, and continued along the stream. "Come. We need water."

She huffed and stepped along the rocks, watching his movements before making her own. Her own conviction wavered as followed him. It was all so alien, every piece of this reality. But … but he felt so real despite it. Her theory made less and less sense the more she learned. "Just in case I'm not … why are you helping me?" she asked quietly.

He paused so suddenly that she almost tripped, slipping along the embankment. His hand shot out and caught her easily by her wrist.

He let go as soon as she regained her balance, and part of her was sorry for it. His thumb had brushed across her pulse, and there was a sharp poignancy to it that grounded her.

Was she so sure this was a dream?

He shrugged to her question, fingers flexing as he stared downstream. "I don't know," he answered finally. "Maybe because you don't belong, either."

She wanted to be offended. She knew very well that her first reaction should have been to be pissed off, to yell at him for making assumptions. But she considered her worn jeans and baggy striped tee that was faded and ripping along the hem. She compared his ease in the forest to her clumsiness. "Yeah, okay," she muttered.

He leaned down to fill his canteen, and then held it up to her.

For the first time, she actually took a moment to study him. His sandy brown hair fell in loose curls all along his forehead, sharply contrasting the grey-blue eyes that squinted up at her. She noted that while his jaw could hold tight, stony and stern, his eyes didn't always match. Right now, there was a playfulness to them, a hint of pride at catching her without a reply.

She snatched the canteen from his grasp and swallowed down a third of it in one go. She didn't want to think of the fact that it would be easy to get attracted, and worse attached, to a face like that.

The water was cool and refreshing, but there was a taste there that was unfamiliar. She looked down at her hand, to the scratches and scrapes across it. She looked at the stitching on the canister, the careful stuttering of thread. It was too real.

"Wolf boy," she murmured, then looked up. "Is this … it can't be real, could it?"

His eyes crinkled, and then lifted a hand to wipe his brow. "It's as real as I know," he finally answered and shrugged.

Numbness tingled along her with his answer, and she nodded mutely. She wanted him to touch her again, to feel the solidness that made her believe, but was too unsure how to get him to. Instead, she crossed her arms over her chest, shivering.

She noticed out of the corner of her eye that he nodded once, mostly to himself. "We should get to the camp. I'll find you something to eat before we get there," he offered.

She twisted her hands in her coat. "Okay," she said in a low tone, and started back along the stones. Yeah, she needed a minute.