Chapter 12

Present

He glanced at the rearview mirror a quick moment before looking back at the road, hands tightening along the steering wheel.

She was slumped against the window, eyes fixed toward the passing storefronts. Her hands were cuffed and clasped in her lap. She was still in only her singlet, black bra peeking through the white, but utterly in control of herself. Her face looked fresh and clean, her blonde curls effortless and soft in the beam of sun that cast through the clouds. She somehow looked more put together than she had in the passenger seat yesterday, even with irritation brewing somewhere behind her stoic expression.

He knew already that she didn't look like she'd been in any sort of tussle with Archie.

Not that Archie's statement had held any true conviction, anyway.

He sighed as he flipped his blinker on, the sharp clicking and blowing heater loud in the silence. "You'll be free to give your own account, you know," he said.

She snorted indelicately. "Yeah?"

He raised his eyes again to meet hers in the mirror. "I might even listen," he teased, matching the tone they'd had back at Granny's.

She smirked and tried to fold her arms, the clink of the metal jangling as she did. "Is that so, Sheriff?" she replied.

He felt it again, the hint of flirting within the banter, along with the shiver of familiarity. He nodded and brought a hand to smooth over the scruff at his chin. "Certainly. Though you might want a more well-rounded story than the one you spun over at Granny's."

She huffed a sigh and closed her eyes, wall bricking right back up. "Would you even believe me?" she muttered.

Yes. The answer, automatic, came to him. Yes, he'd believe her. He'd believed her even before he'd knocked on the room at Granny's.

But there was also something else, something brewing underneath that forced his hand and step. It was the something that made him need to place those cuffs on her (though it was not supposed to be that delicate, now was it? He wasn't supposed to touch her that much, not supposed to linger on her skin so the metal wouldn't bite into her). It was something that made him need to pull her into the back of the cruiser even though there were people on the sidewalk watching and making a spectacle of it all.

Like a buzz, ringing through him, he still knew he needed to bring her into the station and follow procedure, even though Archie hadn't formally pressed charges yet.

But maybe the insistence was easier to follow because he wanted to be around her.

He pulled into his space and turned off the ignition. He turned to face her, eyes flicking over her face a moment before he shrugged a shoulder. "I'd be willing to try," he said instead of the ready answer.

Her eyes popped open, meeting his unflinchingly. She stared a beat and then raised her arms up and jangled the cuffs. "Then get me out of these."

He felt a smile cover his face, then he stepped out of the cruiser and made his way to the back. He opened the door and took her hand instead of the chain as was proper. "In a minute. You might be easier to catch this way."

She pressed her lips together and raised a brow in challenge. "Why do I think that's an excuse, Sheriff?" she said.

He tugged on her hand, and she stumbled forward, hip bumping into his before she steadied. His lips rose up and he shook his head. "Standard procedure."

Her eyes were darker, and she was stifling a smile behind a stern look. "Sure."

He leaned back, eyebrows quirking up. "Honestly. Next is fingerprinting, but I think we did that once before," he said pleasantly.

She rolled her eyes and matched his pace to step into the warm station. "Which means I get another round of mugshots this time, too?"

"See, you know your stuff," he said and pushed her gently in the direction of the wall.

She huffed and stood straight to camera, and he remembered the background file he'd pulled on her last night. She did know the drill. He wondered how she ever got involved in stealing watches in the first place. She tensed as he pulled the film into the camera. "You know the shrink is lying, right?"

He clicked the picture and she flinched at the flash. He pointed. "To the right, please," he said, stalling. He was more curious to see if she might know a reason he didn't. "Why would he lie?"

She frowned. "The Mayor put him up to this," she said certainly. She shook her head. "She's got to have something on him. He's terrified of her like everyone else in this …," she gestured a little helpless as she fumbled for a word. "town."

He snapped another photo and indicated again. "To the left." He pulled out the photo and grimaced. Regina … Regina was tricky. He hoped she wasn't involved, if only because of how that complicated the matter – with Emma, with Henry, with him. But deep down he knew she was behind this. Archie wouldn't lie for himself. "I don't think she'd go as far as a frame job," he finally answered, less than assuredly.

He could practically see the wheels turning in her head. "How far would she go?" she asked plainly. "What does she have her hands in?"

He tried to cover a wince, bile bubbling at the thought. He popped his gaze to meet her. "Well, she's the Mayor. She has her hands in everything."

She raised a brow and looked at him pointedly, a haughty smile crossing her face. "Including the police force?"

His chin lowered and he tried to give her a disapproving look, even as his stomach bottomed out. He thought about the hate in her voice, the demands in her texts, the cold, numb emptiness. He was still fumbling for some retort when the front door slammed open.

Henry tore into the station, Mary Margaret on his heels, nervously crossing an arm around herself as she smiled thinly. "Hey!" he exclaimed as he skid to a stop in front of them.

"Henry!" he exclaimed, and looked at him a little desperately. Seeing the woman he admired so much in cuffs was not an image he wanted to impart on him. "Henry, what are you doing here?"

Mary Margaret was the one to answer, exasperation and weariness in her tone. "His mother told him what happened."

Emma grit her teeth so hard he could practically hear it. "Of course she did." She met his eye, the flame of 'told you so' clear in them. She then turned to the lad. "Henry, I don't know what she said—"

Henry beamed and stopped her. "You're a genius."

She paused. "What?"

He grinned back up at her and then looked up at him conspiratorially. "I know what you were up to." He leaned in between them and glanced back and forth quickly before whispering, "You were gathering intel. For Operation Cobra."

"For what?" Mary Margaret questioned from behind them.

Henry straightened with a guileless smile. "The book, Ms. Blanchard. That's the code."

She blinked, and then looked at him with some amusement. "Oh. Makes sense."

Henry turned back to him with a grin. "I know you had to keep up appearances, Sheriff, but you don't have to worry any more. Ms. Blanchard's gonna bail her out."

Emma froze and looked up at the teacher. "You are? Why?"

Henry grinned, and shared a knowing look with him. Graham gave a half smile, remembering the tales he wove. Snow White and her daughter, indeed. But that also brought the boy's other theory back, the idea of hazy memories (dry leaves and blonde hair and a single red eye) ….

Mary Margaret, meanwhile, shook a little as she considered, still looking nervous. She gave a small smile. "I, uh, trust you."

Emma spun to him triumphantly. "Well, then, Sheriff. If you'd uncuff me, there's something I need to do."

He rested his hand on her wrist, just barely brushing over her pulse. He looked up at her a long beat before sliding the key into the lock. He traced over her face carefully with his eyes before steading on hers. "Be careful, Miss Swan," he said cautiously, pleadingly.

She smiled widely as the metal fell away. She rolled her fingers over the place he touched and leaned fractionally closer. "I always am."

He watched her nod to the schoolteacher and hesitantly place a hand on Henry's head as she walked out. Henry turned with a wide, beaming smile at him before he disappeared behind the wall.

He couldn't shake the feeling that this would escalate, but had to believe her conviction would be sufficient.

Eleven Years Ago

The camp at the rockfall was … sufficient.

It was a dry, stony environment. Sandstone and shale jutted out with raw edges, smoothed by wind alone or broken into sharpened bits. The lack of sunlight gave it all a pale cast, even though the pieces went from pale grey to burnt orange. The wind caught and collected here, whistling through the barren landscape. If the air at the inlet was humid and chilled, this was frigid.

He had stores of furs for the cooler environment, and a quick set up for cooking. There wasn't near the amount of supplies as at the inlet, but there was still enough to help them collect themselves. Certainly not comfortable, but not entirely impossible to rest. He figured if there was enough game in this area, they could easily stay for weeks on end.

He shifted, the contents of the rucksack on his shoulder clanking. A glance up to the sky made him aware that what was sufficient for him and his brother wouldn't be for Emma in just a few hours' time.

"Do you think they found it?" she asked, kicking a stone in her path before settling against one of the overturned boulders.

He shook his head. "Without us around, I rather doubt it. It's pretty hidden." The hunters sought signs of active animal life, not camps. They'd be distracted by the false tracks his brother left, leaving his little sanctuary undiscovered.

"Oh, well … well, good." She pressed her lips together, eyes darting to him and then to her feet. Unconsciously, he trailed his fingers along his own lips before dropping his hand. He could still taste her.

He cleared his throat, trying to forget the intensity of the kiss they shared not an hour ago. "It's going to rain in a couple hours," he said simply.

She looked up, finding the grey clouds in the distance. She stood, swiping her palms across her trousers. "Oh. Um, we should set up a tent or something, right?"

He hesitated and finally shook his head. "No. It'd be fine for me, but without the direct sun it gets too cold here in that weather. Even with the hides I have stored, we wouldn't be sheltered enough. We need to find somewhere else for the night."

She frowned and stepped closer determinedly. "I'm not some weakling, wolf boy, I'm sure I can—"

"It's not that. You're not used to this kind of cold, and the rain's going to be hard. I can feel it," he said shortly.

Her nose wrinkled and her hands curled into fists. "If you can do it, I can," she bit out.

She was so stubborn. Always, unflinchingly. "We can find an inn or something. I still have the extra earnings," he continued. His next camp was too far away by leagues, but the closest village was only a half mile away.

"And what about the wolf, huh?" she countered, hands at her waist defiantly.

His head cocked to the side. The fact that she cared made something pull inside him. He wanted to wrap his arms around her waist and tug her close, but he could only smile. He stepped closer to her. "He can protect himself. He's got his own fur, and I can set up a lean-to against the stone wall. But the hides aren't enough for two people and a wolf. Humor me, okay?"

Her eyes narrowed, and he could see the obstinacy falter. She leaned her body in, green focused on him. She lingered there, lashes flicking up a millisecond behind her eyes. "And you'll come with me?"

Something about the look on her face made him incline his head into her space. He wet his lips, savoring the parts of her lingering in his senses. Their noses touched, and her gaze finally lost the anger. "If I must."

She scowled, but it was without heat. "You'd better."

He wanted to thread his fingers in her hair again, to feel her lips against his own. Would it be welcome? Did she want that feeling again, just like him? He swallowed thickly and stepped back instead. "So we should take what we can carry and get out of here."

She chewed on her lip slightly, eyes smoky. "You said we have a couple hours?"

He looked up at her in surprise. He had never been one to understand subtlety, nor was he great at understanding the cues humans picked up on naturally. But here, with her, the implication was clear. A nervous course of excitement ran down through his stomach, but he shook his head. "We really should go now, so we can be settled before the weather turns," he paused, wiping his palms across his leathers. He chanced another glance at her coyly. "We can … always slow down, y'know, once we find somewhere."

She smiled a little, hiding it away almost immediately as she bent to gather a couple pelts. "Okay. That sounds … okay." Her cheeks were a lovely pink color and it was somewhat comforting that she was as unsure as he was.

They were usually unbalanced, always one running to catch up with the other, but somehow this was more like matching the same pace.

And this was a pace he wanted to explore.