OKAY, BRACE YA'SELVES, CUZ AFTER THIS CHAPTER IS WHEN WE GET TO THE GOOD STUFF: GRAHAM SETTLING BACK INTO LIFE... OTHERS DEALING WITH IT... THANKSGIVING, CHRISTMAS, AND PRETTY MUCH WHATEVER ELSE YOU GUYS WANT (YOU CAN MAKE REQUESTS, MY LOVELIES!)

AND ALSO, PLEASE REVIEW? I LOOK SO CUTE WHEN I SMILE, DON'T YOU WANT ME TO LOOK CUTE? ;)

Emma braced herself against the bathroom door, locking it with shaking fingers. She couldn't breathe. She kept taking big, gulping breaths, trying to breathe, but it seemed like there wasn't enough air to fill her lungs.

Her wild eyes stared at the opposite wall, fixating on the tiny pattern on Belle's guest towels. For a minute, that was all her brain focused on: the tiny little curls of the intricate patterns embleming the soft cotton, the dark blue dancing against the soft white, a tiny thread coming loose at the end—and then she fell to her knees, so she could throw up everything in her stomach.

She sat up, scraping a breath through her burning throat. Her entire body was shaking violently. Slowly, she pulled herself up to the sink, and rinsed her mouth.

She'd be fine. Eventually. She had seen a lot of things since she came to Storybrooke, a lot of impossible things. Her parents were Snow White and Prince Charming. She shared a son with the Evil Queen. Her best friends were over two hundred years old.

But still…seeing Graham alive again was going to take some adjusting.

There was a knock at the door. "Emma?" her mother's voice said from outside.

Emma rolled her eyes. "What?"

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Mom," she said through clenched teeth. "I just need a couple minutes."

Snow was silent for a few minutes. And then—

"Don't you want to come say 'hi' to Graham? I thought you two were getting really close at one point."

"Mom, please!"

"What?"

"I don't need this right now, okay? Just give me a few minutes!"

"But Emma—"

Emma yanked the door open furiously, glaring at her mother as she shouted, "Go away!", and slammed the door again.

She could hear Snow's hesitant footsteps fade away. Emma closed her eyes, bracing herself with both hands on the sink for support. She didn't know how long she stood there in silence, but after a time, her phone buzzed insistently.

She opened her purse with still trembling fingers, fishing out her phone to read a text from Robin: I'm taking Regina home. Henry's still here.

Okay, she typed back. Thanks. And sat back against her heels, staring dully at the wall.

Regina. She hadn't even thought about what this was going to do to Regina. Graham belonged to another time, a time when Regina had been a darker person, when Emma had been a harder person; a time when they had loathed the very sight of each other. Emma set her jaw determinedly. That wasn't going to happen again. She'd make sure of it.

She leaned against the wall, still holding her phone loosely in her hands. She could hear footsteps outside: stomping ones followed by hurried ones.

"Lave me alone!" Ruby's voice shouted—angry, sounding close to tears.

Here we go, Emma thought, rolling her eyes (though she was thankful for some normalcy).

"Ruby?" Hook's voice—pleading, begging. "Ruby, I'm sorry!"

"Just GO AWAY!"

Emma idly picked up her phone, texting Regina: Ruby and Hook just broke up again. I was off by three days.

She waited for a minute. And then—

Damn it. I wanted to buy myself a spa day.

Emma smiled, chuckling to herself as Ruby and Hook's argument stormed outside.

I'll take you for a spa day if you buy me a pony.

That's what you were going to buy? A pony?

Who wouldn't want a pony?

What are you going to do with a pony?

I don't know.

Then why do you need a pony?

Emma gritted her teeth. Regina, it was a joke. Stop fixating on the pony.

You brought it up.

No spa day for you.

I'll win next time. And then I'm going to rub my spa day in you and your pony's faces.

Emma laughed out loud. Fine. See you later.

Okay. Make sure Henry gets home.

Emma closed her phone, leaning her head back against the wall. Ruby and Hook were still going back and forth, tempting her to open the door and give them the same treatment she gave Snow earlier.

"Ruby…"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"But I—"

"No."

"But don't you—?"

"No."

"You don't even know what I was going to say!"

Ruby didn't answer; Emma assumed she was glaring at him, that's what usually happened at this point.

"Ruby, please." Silence. "Ruby?" Slow footsteps. "Ru—come on, please?" Slow footsteps fading away. Someone hitting the door, sliding down slowly. Silence.

Emma frowned, scooting over to knock softly on the door. "Hook?"

There was a slight pause. "Emma?"

"Hi."

"…Hi."

She twiddled her thumbs. "You want to talk about it?"

"Nope."

"Oh, thank God," she breathed.

"Sorry?"

"Oh… nothing."

Hook was silent. Emma waited for him to say something else, but he didn't.

"You, uh—" she cleared her throat—"you need a magical hug or anything?"

A sigh. "Emma…" There was a slight scraping sound, as if he was shaking his head against the door. "Only I give magical hugs. You know that."

Emma clung onto the doorknob to help pull herself up, then turned it to open the door. Hook let out a yelp, falling backwards and landing at her feet.

"Oh, shit—sorry, I should've give you a warning or something," she muttered as she helped him up. Hook grimaced, allowing her to pull him into a standing position by the elbow. He kept his eyes down, pretending to brush lint off his shirt as Emma peered at him, narrowing her eyes.

"Hey," she frowned, craning her neck to see his face. "Your eyeliner's all smudged." She lowered her eyes to his hand, noticing the dark smudges on the sides of his fingers, and frowned deeper. "Were you crying?"

"No," he said quickly.

Emma raised her eyebrows skeptically. "Sure…"

"I wasn't."

She snorted, rifling through her purse.

"What are you doing?" Hook said warily.

She triumphantly held up her eyeliner pencil. "Hold still. I'll fix it."

"You don't have to—bloody hell, Emma! You nearly poked my eye out!"

"Then hold still!" she said irritably. Hook grumbled under his breath, but obediently held still as she carefully traced a black line under his left eye.

"I supposed he's another one of your boyfriends," he said after a time.

"Hmm?" Emma said absently, working on his right eye.

"That's why you're hiding in here, isn't it? You don't want to see him. Or maybe you do, what do I know?" Hook shrugged.

"I told you to hold still."

"I'm holding still."

"Stop talking."

"I think we both know that's not going to happen." Hook drummed his fingers impatiently against the doorframe, waiting for her to finish darkening his top lid. Emma tilted his head to the light, studying it critically, then gave a nod of approval.

"There you go," she said cheerfully, capping her pencil and stuffing it back in her purse. Hook leaned over the sink, studying her handiwork.

"It's too heavy!" he said indignantly.

She scoffed. "It is not."

"Yeah, it is!" he insisted. "You can't just slap it on! You have to have finesse, Emma! Delicacy, you need delicacy!"

"I did the best I could, okay? I've never put eyeliner on someone else, the angle's all screwey!"

Hook sighed heavily, closing his eyes. "It doesn't even matter," he said miserably, slumping to lean forward on his elbows. "I don't care."

Emma hovered by the door, biting her lip anxiously. She wasn't the best person to talk to, especially when Hook was in one of his melodramatic moods. But then, she wasn't sure she could go out there and see…and see Graham: it still felt like too much, too far beyond her capabilities to handle. She had to, eventually; she wanted to, eventually. Before the night was out; but not quite yet.

Hesitantly, she walked over, putting a hand on Hook's shoulder. "Um… h-hang in there…pal." She tried to see his expression in the mirror, but his head was down. She cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Just—"

"I need a magical hug!" he wailed in a broken voice, and suddenly his arms were around her as he whimpered into her shoulder, mumbling a string of incoherent words.

"Oh…Okay," Emma said in a strained voice, feebly patting his shoulder. "Uh…Hook?"

"Hmm?" he sniffed.

"You remember how we talked about—" she winced—"not hugging so tight?"

He choked on his tears. "No."

"Well, I'm sorry, hon, but you hug too tight. I can't breathe."

"Blame Ruby."

"And you know what, I do, I totally do…but I'm literally going to pass out in a minute."

Hook took a shuddering breath, pulling away from her. Emma gave him a weak smile, still patting his shoulder.

"You're okay," she said reassuringly. "You guys'll be back together by the end of the night."

He shook his head. "No, we won't. She said, no. She said, we're done."

"She always says that," Emma scoffed, waving her hand dismissively. Hook closed his eyes, shaking his head insistently.

"No, this time she meant it. She told me…" His bottom lip trembled dangerously. "She told me it was final this time."

"So?"

Hook looked at her with his kicked-puppy expression. "She's never said that before," he whispered. "She always says we're done. She never says I mean it this time or it's final. Not. Once."

Emma looked back at him helplessly as he leaned his head down to sob into her shoulder some more.

They had to get back together. She needed them to. Without Hook and Ruby, there was no Hook-and-Ruby pool. And with no Hook-and-Ruby pool, how was she going to use her winnings on those amazing new boots she had passed by in the store windows?

"This is a great party!" Tink hollered as she and Belle continued to jump up and down in time to the music.

"I know!" Belle shouted back, reveling in the Lost Boys' rendition of "So What?"

"Plus, Ruby's right, that lead singer is hot!"

Rumple had decided to take a break from the dancing—something everyone around him had been grateful for—and was sitting in the back, deep in discussion with Leroy about something. Tink had dragged Belle away earlier, demanding that she dance and drink the night away with her, since she never got a bachelorette party or some nonsense like that. And here they were, mildly drunk and dancing like teenage girls at a concert.

"Ariel's right, too," Belle said, raising her voice against the cheers as the song ended. "They really do look too old to call themselves the Lost Boys."

"Oh, trust me, they're not boys," Tink said slyly, and wiggled her eyebrows. "I made sure of that."

Belle made a face. "You always make things weird."

"Yeah, I do," Tink agreed, shrugging. "Come on, let's go get another drink."

They linked elbows, pushing through the little gaps in the crowd and taking advantage of their short heights to duck under people's outstretched arms.

"Oh, by the way," Tink said, leaning in conspiratorially. "I saw Mulan and Aurora in one of the corners earlier—"

Belle looked at her in surprise, her eyes wide.

"—let's just say, they could give Orange is the New Black a run for their money." Tink smirked at Belle's stunned look, and pulled her toward the bar.

"S'up, Vince?" she said, slapping the counter. "Give us…two strawberry daiquiris, okay? NO umbrella in mine—I hate those things," she added to Belle with a grimace.

"Are you serious about Mulan and Aurora?" she asked in a hushed tone as Vince set to work. Tink nodded, still smirking. Belle sat back in her chair, her jaw dropping open.

"This is unbelievable," she said, taking the drink Vince slid over to her.

"So is he," Tink said, twirling her straw as she looked across the row of seats at the new guy. "Unbelievably sexy!"

"Tink," Belle groaned, putting her head on the counter. "I don't want to hear about your hormones again."

"Oh, my God," Tink breathed suddenly. "Dude, your stepson's over there…"

"Oh, here we go," Belle said in muffled voice, keeping her face against the counter.

"He's so fucking hot, I can't even!" Tink said wildly. "Holy fuck, look at him in that suit! I mean— Jesus Christ, what is he trying to do to me? That man is a god!"

Belle lifted her head, giving Tink a miserable look. "Why are you doing this to me?" she asked. "Do you hate me? Is that what it is, do you hate me?"

Tink closed her eyes, dipping her hand into the glass beside her, to dab herself with the ice cubes. The man looked at her in disgust, muttering something under his breath before he pushed his drink away and stalked off. Tink didn't even notice' she was too busy trying to administer an on-the-go cold shower for herself.

"Oh, there's a fucking surprise," Belle scoffed, rolling her eyes as Ruby materialized and threw her arms around…Grant? She couldn't remember his name. "Hey, Tink?"

"Yeah?" Tink opened her eyes, carefully avoiding looking at Neal.

"That new guy—what's his name?"

"I don't know. I've just been calling him 'Professor Sexy' in my head."

"Fantastic," Belle muttered. That was helpful.

They sipped their drinks as Hook appeared, glaring at —Belle grimaced— Professor Sexy. Hook pulled some "jealous boyfriend" routine, and then he and Ruby started shouting. Damn it, Belle thought, moodily stirring her straw in her drink. She had given them eight days, it had only been six, nearly seven.

Her phone buzzed a little while later, and she opened it to see a text from Neal: How much time do you give the next round?

Put me down for two days as soon as they get back together, she typed back. P.S.—stay away from Tink, she's super-drunk.

"Hey, Tink," she said, elbowing her.

"Mmm-hmm?" Tink hummed, taking another sip from her daiquiri.

"You want to go make sure Hook's okay? It's your turn."

Tink made a face. "Eww, no. I don't want to spend the rest of the party listening to him bitch about Ruby."

"Oh, come on, please," Belle begged. "He's probably going to keep me up until five in the morning on the phone, the least you can do is check in on him now? Please? You know how he gets in this state, you can't leave him alone."

Tink grumbled, but picked up her drink and hopped off the stool. "I'll be back," she said darkly. "I'm not staying, I'm just going to pop in and say hi, then I'm coming back."

Belle shrugged dismissively, and played around on her phone while she waited for Tink.

She had just been abysmally defeated on a level of Candy Crush (though to be fair, it did have several bears and candy strings) when she got a text from Tink: Emma's taking care of it.

Belle frowned. Eww, what does THAT mean?

She waited, tapping her fingers listlessly, until Tink replied: I don't know, the door's closed… ;D.

Perv, she typed back. You shitty nun.

I'm coming back. I'm bored. Is Professor Sexy still there?

Yeah. And can you not call him that? It objectifies men. It's offensive.

Literally don't care. I'll be there in a minute.

Belle sipped her daiquiri until it was half-empty, around the same time Tink showed up again. Her glass was empty (of course), and she ordered another drink as soon as she slid back in the seat.

"So, what happened?" Belle asked, chewing on her straw.

Tink batted her hand, rolling her eyes. "She was fixing his eyeliner, that's it. Jesus, Belle, I was kidding."

"Well, I don't know!" Belle said defensively. "They both get slutty when they're drunk, I was just making sure!"

"Whatever," Tink said, already losing interest. "Come on, let's go talk to Professor Sexy."

"Tink…"

Tink pulled her by the wrist over to the new guy, avoiding looking in Neal's direction. She plopped down in the seat beside him, and yanked Belle into the seat next to her.

"Hi," Tink said, flashing him a brilliant smile. "This is Belle, I'm Tink, and you're hot."

He choked on his drink, coughing violently enough to pound himself on the chest with his fist. Tink continued to smile, completely unabashed.

"Thank you," he croaked finally, holding out his hand. "But you can just call me 'Graham'."

"Graham," Tink repeated huskily, arching an eyebrow. "Now, I understand you were a sheriff?"

"That's right," he said pleasantly.

"Hmm…any chance you still have those handcuffs?"

"Here we go," Belle muttered, taking another swig of her drink.

Graham smiled vaguely. "I'm sorry?"

"Ooh, I love that accent," Tink purred, leaning closer. "Go on, say something else."

"Uh…" Graham shook his head slightly, still smiling. "What should I say?"

"Say…" Tink tapped her fingers against her lips, thinking. "Say—" she leaned toward him to whisper in his ear.

Graham made the mistake of taking a sip at the moment: it sprayed out of his mouth, and he started coughing again.

"Excuse me?" he rasped, his eyes wide and disbelieving.

"Oh, come on," Tink giggled. "I'm just kidding."

Graham looked at Belle incredulously; she shook her head and mouthed, I am so sorry. Graham gave Tink one last wary glance before sliding a few seats away from her, huddling closer to Henry, David, and Neal.

Tink turned to her with a frown. "Well, he was rather rude, wasn't he?"

Belle ignored her, sliding off her seat and walking over to the one next to Graham. "Hey, guys," she smiled, nodding to the other three, and turned to Graham. "Hey, uh…I just wanted to apologize for my friend there. She's depraved."

"Yes," Graham said flatly, and gulped his drink. He swallowed, exhaling loudly, then flicked his eyes to her and offered her a small smile. "Thanks, though."

Belle nodded awkwardly. "So…" she said, drumming her hands on the counter. "Pretty good party, eh?"

"Oh, excellent party," Graham said, though he kept looking around, not really paying attention. Belle frowned, twisting in her seat to find what he was looking at: all she could see was the crowd of dancers, moving in time to whatever the Lost Boys were playing now.

"I don't supposed," Graham said hesitantly, "you know an Emma Swan?"

Belle swung her head back to look at him."I take it you do?"

"Well…" He looked at his fingers wrapped around the glass, tapping his thumb against it. "I did…We were, uh…"

Belle raised her eyebrows, prodding him.

"Friends," he finished, though the tone of his voice implied there was a lot more to the story.

"Friends," she repeated skeptically. "With…benefits?"

"No, nothing like that," he said quickly.

"Friends with future benefits?"

Graham suddenly became extremely interested in his fingernails. Belle smirked, and opened her mouth, ready to torment him about it, when she caught a flutter of movement out of the corner of her eye. She half-turned in her seat, and saw…speak of the devil.

"Hey," she said, nudging Graham with her elbow. "Your friend is on her way over here."

Graham's eyes widened slightly, and he turned around, abandoning his drink. Belle took the opportunity to peer over the rim to see what he was drinking, sniffing it: Hmm. A daiquiri. Funny, she never would have pegged him for a daiquiri man.

"Emma?" Graham croaked, slowly rising out of his seat. Belle dipped her finger in the daiquiri to taste it: Oh, she thought approvingly. Kiwi. Positively delightful.

"Graham," Emma said in a trembling voice.

I really should try a kiwi one next, Belle thought, turning around to watch the scene unfold.

Graham stood still, staring at her with his mouth slightly open. Emma stood a few feet away from him, her eyes wary, searching. Belle tapped her fingers, boredom creeping up on her. How long were they going to stand there, staring at each other?

"Come on," she called out. "Do something, I'm falling asleep over here!"

They apparently didn't hear her: they stood there, frozen. Emma was the first one to speak, her voice coming out weak and high-pitched, wavering.

"I couldn't… I-I needed a few minutes to process, so I just—"

"It's okay," Graham said, smiling. Belle propped her head up with one hand, watching with half-lidded eyes as Emma broke into a watery smile, and hurried over to give him a hug, throwing her arms tightly around his neck. Belle looked on, unimpressed.

"Well, that was anticlimactic," she muttered, when they finally broke apart, still beaming at each other.

"Is that my shoelace?" Graham asked, suddenly, turning over her wrist. Emma looked down, smiling sheepishly.

"Yeah, I…" She looked up at him through her eyelashes. "I just wanted something to remember you by."

"So you picked his shoelace?" Belle said incredulously, dropping her hand. They ignored her, just continued smiling at each other in a breathless sort of way.

"So…" Emma breathed, her hands curling around his. "Do you, uh… do you need somewhere to stay?"

"I've been staying with Victor. Dr. Whale," he clarified, seeing her momentary confusion. "He and your boy have been helping me… Catching me up on all the gossip, and whatnot. On… on everybody."

Emma nodded, unable to stop smiling at him. "What about a job? You want to be my deputy?"

"Deputy?" Graham laughed. "My, how times have changed."

"I thought I was your deputy," Neal frowned, joining the conversation. Emma and Graham looked over at him, finally returning to the real world.

"Neal," Emma said, forcing the smile to remain on her face. "We'll talk about it later, okay?"

Neal narrowed his eyes suspiciously, looking between her and Graham; then slowly, moved down to Emma's wrist, fixating on the leather cord. His brow twitched, and his mouth opened slightly. He looked up at Graham, his eyes widening in dawning comprehension.

"You're Shoelace Guy?" he asked disbelievingly. "Seriously?"

Graham's eyes widened fearfully, and he snapped his head back and forth between Neal and Emma. "Oh, my God, please tell me I'm not in the middle of something again," he said worriedly. "Neal, I am so—"

"No, it's fine," Emma reassured him, her eyes flicking toward Neal's. "We're just bros. We're not together." She smiled at Graham. "You're not intruding on anything."

Belle jumped as a chair shoved back suddenly, and Henry stalked off, glaring. Emma's smile slid off her face, as did her hand from Graham's shoulder.

"Henry?" she called anxiously, her eyes trying to find him in the crowd. "Henry!"

"I'll get him," Neal muttered, brushing past her and Graham (none too gently, either). Emma closed her eyes and dropped her head to hide it in her hands, sighing heavily.

"I keep screwing everything up," she said in a muffled voice. "I can't do anything right anymore."

"Nope," Belle agreed, looking for Vince so she could order a kiwi daiquiri. "Hey, Vince! I'm getting dehydrated!"

"No, I do," Graham said miserably. "I seem to be getting in the way of everything, I'm just disrupting so much—"

"No, you're not!" Emma insisted. "It's me, I…" She broke off, biting her lip. "It's a long story. All you have to know is, it's not your fault. It's mine."

"Emma, you don't have to say that—"

"But it's true!"

"You don't know that—"

"Oh, my God!" Belle said loudly. "It's both your faults, okay? Now, just shut up, I want to enjoy the rest of my party!"

She snatched the daiquiri Vince set in front of her, and slid off the stool, shooting them a glare as she pushed past them.

"Fucking drama queens," she muttered to herself, looking around for Tink. She took a long sip from her drink, squinting her eyes as she picked through the crowd, looking for the familiar blonde head and glittery dress, all the while reflecting on all the drama that had unfolded that night.

There was Ruby and Hook breaking up; whatever was going on between Emma and Neal; Henry throwing a minor hissy fit at that last minute there; Neal and Regina finding out they were half-siblings; Graham's reappearance, which had probably made everything a lot more emotional than it was already.

Graham. Belle clenched her teeth. He had certainly gotten tangled into quite a few messy situations, hadn't he? Because that was all this town needed, right? More drama, more tangled love lives, more secrets and whispering and rumors…

Well, she wasn't going to worry about it. Rumple was going to take her to New York for their second honeymoon in a week (the second Thanksgiving was over, they were hopping a plane), and then she was going to enjoy her time off from all the gossip. And by the time they came home in time for Christmas, everything would have blown over.

And if not, there was always Hook's extremely alcoholic egg nog to help her get through the holiday drama.