Guest Comments

Guest: I'm a little surprised, I suppose. Emma's not saying she doesn't love and want to be with Snow and David, just that it's not the right choice for her family. It's a struggle, and it's always been a struggle, to be away from the rest of her family. She's honestly doing the best she can, but her kids take priority.

BossLady (x2): I'm sorry I didn't get to a Holiday-themed one-shot during this time! I started one, but just haven't had the time to finish it. If I get a chance, I may finish and post it late. There's a lot going on on this side of things, though. Thank you so much! I will definitely have more Daddy!Graham things (as it is one of my favorite things to write, especially with Hunted Believer feels and the like).

Title: Nightmares and Daydreams

Rating: T

Summary: He had lived so long in this reality that the demons of his past hadn't had a chance to bear down on him.

Notes: Set the morning after Outside Looking In. Accompanied by picspam for Gremma Appreciation Month.

He woke with a jerk, panting as he leaned up on his elbows. His hair clung to his face, dampened and mussed from the thrashing he had been doing. He shut his eyes hard, trying to drive back the pieces of the nightmare that still clung to him like tar. His dreams were often plagued by memories, visions of another time and place.

After yesterday, though, they were mixing with the worst of his fears.

He dragged a hand over his face and rolled back down to his pillow. Emma shifted beside him, a soft sigh escaping her lips, though she remained asleep. He took a long breath in and released it slowly.

The imprints were fading, the dream hazing back into its unreality. All he could recall was that somehow the memory of being in that room in the castle, punished for being unable to fulfil her wishes, had melded with her punishing him for finding a way to fulfill his own. More than images of the dream, feelings were prominent. The threat on his family that caused the crushing fear, the unyielding rage still made his blood run hot and cold in surprising intervals. The feel of her squeezing his heart was so vivid that it made him press his hand over his chest to remind himself that it was still beating.

He swallowed thickly and turned to his side. Emma steeped him in reality better than anything else after nights like these. She was warm and real and present, the rising and sinking of her chest a calm, meditative pattern. Her hair cascaded onto the pillow, her left arm thrown above her head, and the light that was beginning to crest on the horizon made the ring on her finger glow. He leaned closer, inhaling her deeply. Two fingers wound up to barely graze the pulse under the lace around her wrist, further grounding him in the moment.

He kissed the golden tresses on his side of the pillow and curled his fingers around the strands. Whatever the next few hours would bring, they would still all be together. Going back to Storybrooke would not change that. It just seemed that his fears were not as buried as he first wished.

He didn't want to think beyond this moment. He didn't want to think about the past sleeping on their couch, or the evil waiting for them a few hours north in all its forms.

In this cocoon of the red-gold light of dawn and soft white blankets, he could almost pretend it was a normal morning. That in a couple hours, they would wake Henry. That they would start a normal Monday. He would make breakfast, Emma would make coffee, and Henry would water the plants. Together, they would eat before all walking to the bus stop so Henry could go to the Writer's Workshop and he and Emma could go to work. That he'd work hard on the Linetti case, have Simmons rib on him for the extra tabs he'd have open on his computer, and hear Assistant Chief Miller making her rounds. Then, they would come home, have dinner with Ritu and Sam and the kids, and finally watch a movie or play Diablo III until it was time for bed.

Instead, he had to prepare himself for the town where he'd been a slave. For seeing her, still unpunished. For feeling eyes on him, condemning him for the acts he'd committed under her rule.

He had become so ingrained in this life that the demons of his past hadn't fully come down on him. As lucky as he knew he was to have this life and family … there was still a part of him that felt he didn't deserve it, that he still had too much to atone for to deserve even a shred of happiness, let alone the bliss of true love thrice over.

He leaned down, taking the sheets with him, until he was eye level with Emma's stomach. A twist beneath skin showed a hand for the briefest moment, and he felt a spring of tears behind his eyes.

He would be strong, for her, for them. They were running right back into the danger, and that made him fear for his little family so much. It made him want to fight to stay in Manhattan, to stay with their friends and the department and their home and life.

On the other hand, he knew Emma wouldn't be able to live with herself if something happened to her parents, which she could have prevented. The Savior title was such a huge burden on her shoulders, one he hadn't seen since the first couple months of regaining their memories. He knew that she missed them every day, even if the flashes of hurt were covered as quickly as she could hide them.

And there was one more troubling aspect. If Captain Hook could leave Storybrooke … who else could? Were they really as safe as they assumed in New York?

He lightly traced over her belly, watching the rippling just beneath as the baby jutted towards him. As usual, he quickly counted the days in his head before pressing his lips to the skin. "Morning, my little girl," he whispered. "This is going to be a long, strange trip and we're going to be around a lot of evil things. But I'll keep you, your mommy, and your brother safe. I promise."

"Hey," a soft, hoarse murmur called from above.

He looked up. Emma was peeking at him through a half-lidded, sleepy gaze. Embarrassed, he pulled the comforter back up and drifted back to his pillow. "Hey."

Her brow furrowed and she sat up. "What's wrong?"

He huffed and leaned back up. He brushed a hand down her arm before shaking his head solemnly. "Do I have to list?"

He watched as her face firmed. "No. I don't even want to think about it right now." She leaned her head against his shoulder, then fumbled for her phone and sighed. "We can pretend to be asleep for two more hours, I think. Act like we won't be in Storybrooke this evening."

He used a thumb to trace a line across her bottom lip. "I wish pretending was easier."

She studied him with a careful gaze, her palm covering her belly thoughtfully. After a beat, she pressed softly, "you don't have to act like you don't talk to her. I hear you, you know. It's one of my favorite morning rituals now."

He offered a small smile and a shrug. He knew that she likely heard him on early mornings, had seen the smile that would quirk on her lips even as she feigned sleep.

She took his hand in hers and slid it across her stomach, letting their rings clink together a couple times before finally settling where their child was most active. "She's getting used to her daddy's voice. I like that." Her voice was low, like this was some great secret she was willing to share.

He smiled at their layered hands. "Henry likes talking to her, too. She'll know us all before she comes," he murmured. Henry tended to talk quietly to his sister mostly during the boring parts of the movies Graham and Emma chose.

Emma used a hand to press against his cheek. "And I love it. I love you," she said, leaning up to kiss him gently.

He chuckled against her lips, a soft breath of sound. "I love you. Whatever happens when we get to Storybrooke, we have that."

"Hmm," she said, and then kissed him a little deeper. "And usually I'm so good at distracting you like this." Her smile turned slightly wicked as she moved her leg over his, straddling him.

He groaned as she settled on top of him. "Need I remind you that we have a houseguest?"

She grinned and shifted closer. "We can be quiet. It'll get your mind off things," she suggested.

"Quiet. Sure. Not like we haven't been caught be three of our friends, including one that made fun of us for months because she was sleeping on our couch and heard us," Graham rasped, even as his hands settled on her hips.

She shrugged gracefully. "We'll have to book a room with Henry during our stay. This could be our last chance for a while. Then again, at this point I'm sure I'd find a way somehow."

His eyebrow raised in a sort of agreement. Her hormones had made way for some creativity in recent weeks. However, there were other things to consider at this point, like sharing a wall with the living room. "We shouldn't shove it in his face."

She stopped moving and looked down thoughtfully. "I get that. I do. But I meant it when I said we can be quiet. I need my husband right now because I'm … I need to be grounded, too."

He closed his eyes, not really surprised that she knew exactly what brought about his actions earlier. "Grounded or avoiding?" he asked finally, sliding his hands up her sides.

She shivered. "Both. Neither." She sighed and traced patterns along his chest. "I want to focus on us for a moment before we have to work to include everyone else in our lives."

It was the flash of vulnerability that crossed her features more than anything else that was making him give in. "A bit of normalcy before the abnormal?" He shifted back, just enough to be able to lean up and kiss her cheek tenderly.

She nodded, and her eyes shined with love as she tried to get closer. "And, you know, the new mattress doesn't squeak."

"Well, who could argue with that," Graham murmured before pulling a strap down her shoulder, followed closely by his lips.

She had a point, after all.