Title: Amazing
Summary: She wakes to find him gone, but has a feeling she knows exactly where he is … and why.
Note: Set well after Lack of Guilt, during the pregnancy. This is mainly based on something from anon regarding Graham's past. I didn't see it going down quite as you had illustrated, but wanted to give a little glimpse on how it would in this verse. I hope you enjoy!
Emma woke to cool sheets. She shivered, blinking a few times to focus on the dark bedroom. She blurrily glanced to the clock at her bedside. It was just after 2am.
She sighed and rocked back and forth a couple times before she managed to get herself to a sitting position. She glared down at her stomach a second, the small little bump forming at her middle. "You are only twenty-one weeks along; it should not be this hard to move," she muttered, mourning the loss of agility a second. She knew it was only going to get worse, especially since she was still just barely showing and had almost half her pregnancy left to come. She shook her head to snap out of it. She just needed to get used to this new center of gravity.
She reached down and picked up a shirt from the floor and pulled it over her head, patting her stomach comfortingly as she rose. She then swiped the pants from the chair next to the bedside table. She grumbled slightly as she walked off the rug and onto the freezing floor.
The baby didn't even stir, and the house remained silent.
She pulled a robe from the hook at the back of the door and walked out in bare feet to the living room. She took a quick look around before finding Graham sitting at the window between the spider plants. She frowned a touch and leaned on the doorway to assess him.
The first thought that hit her was in direct response to her hormones: he was just so handsome. The glow of the moonlight half lit him gently, accentuating those sharp lines of his cheekbone and jaw. His hair was a little longer than usual, making the dark curls loop along his temple. He was dressed only in bottoms, the lean muscles in his back exposed in shadow. She bit down on her lip, pushing off the instant reaction to him like that.
Because her second thought was more attuned to her intuition when it came to him: she had a feeling she knew exactly why her husband left their bed so early.
"You're staring again."
She knew that he had felt her presence. He hadn't turned, face still focused on the Manhattan skyline. She tightened the belt on the robe and pushed up the sleeves, not bothering to deny the comment. She took to staring quite often for various reasons, and there were several at the moment.
He finally pivoted, his face exceptionally weary in the split moment before he warmed and smiled at her. His eyes were soft as he looked her up and down before he broke the silence, "you look amazing."
She scoffed and bridged the gap between him. She was in the sweats that she had before her pregnancy and his robe, belly much more apparent due to the way it stretched both garments tight. Her hair was tangled and her eyes felt sore from having not gotten her full night's sleep yet. In all, she rather doubted his words, even as she pressed a kiss to his lips for the sentiment. She hummed and leaned back in, enjoying the taste of him.
"I mean it," he said, blue eyes illuminating in the brightness of the city lights so suddenly that she caught on that they had been quite fogged before.
She brought her hands up, flitting through his hair. She enjoyed the way he sunk into her touch while at the same time noticing that his hair was damp at the scalp. It only confirmed her instinct. "More dreams?" she asked simply.
He hesitated a moment before nodding. "More of the same." He kissed her wrist and then pushed past the robe to roll his palms over her stomach. He smiled and the rest of the shadows in his expression fell back. "You can see her better now."
She rolled her eyes, internally counting to realize his estimation was right. It was indeed a girl day. "And it will only get worse," she said.
He looked up at her and smiled truly. "I am so lucky," he breathed.
She couldn't help the grin that overtook her face, and she kissed him again, deeper this time. She sat next to him and wrapped her arms around his neck to stay in his space. "Mustn't have been too bad, then?" she asked. Usually if the nightmares were enough to send him out of bed, he'd brew in it for far longer than he seemed to be now.
He visibly swallowed and gave a tight smile. "Pretty bad," he admitted.
She frowned and brushed back the messy curls from his forehead. "What was it this time?" she asked hesitantly.
He sighed and rested his forehead on her chest. "Things that remind me how good I have it," he said simply.
She cocked her head to the side. Memories, then. He was usually wrapped a little more in self-loathing after those dreams. If they were truly creations from his subconscious, he took more to fear and protectiveness.
He tugged her closer, pulling her onto his lap and she shifted until it was comfortable for the new width of her belly. He was quiet a long moment, brushing hands through her hair, and she let him have the time to collect himself. "I don't deserve this," he murmured heavily.
She craned her neck to look up at him. "Don't start," she warned.
He grimaced. "After everything I did—"
"After everything she made you do," she corrected firmly.
She'd heard bits and pieces, enough to know that his heart had been used to carry out her orders. She knew that he lived with the fact that innocent lives had been extinguished by his hand. He had been forced, just as he had been forced into so many things by that … monster.
Emma's rage piqued, fire in her blood at the thought.
Regina had never had any guilt in her soul, no remorse, no regret. It was magically proven right before her eyes in Neverland, just before their lives reset. The more she learned the more disgusted she became with the display. Her assessment so long ago was truly right: the woman had no soul.
And so it was Graham that had to live with the guilt instead.
"That was not your fault," she said forcefully.
He leaned against her, a soft and weary sigh expelled into her neck.
He didn't like to discuss it, but they had spoken enough for her to know that he knew that. At least on paper, he knew who to place to blame on. But while he knew, it still weighed on him heavily and, at times, very visibly. She was loath to dredge it up while he was in this state, hoping not to break any of his progress.
She hugged him close, and pressed her lips together a long moment as she struggled with the emotion in her. "What was it this time?"
He shook his head rapidly, sinking deeper into her touch. Finally he sighed. "A man. She thought he had information on Snow, thought she stayed with his family in a village in the forest. She wanted to know where their cabin was located and where they directed her to go next. She sent me to get the answers. He chose not to confess."
She swallowed. She knew what that meant.
He blinked rapidly, lashes skittering over his cheeks. "I know it wasn't me, wasn't my decision. But Emma … he had a family. I took him from them. How many families did I do that to? And how can I—how am I even allowed my own?"
She let out a short sob before she could contain it, and brought a fist to her mouth. She shook her head and caught his gaze. "Because it wasn't your decision, and not your choice. You were used, Graham. And you are with us now because whatever force got you back to me knows your heart."
He huffed lowly and nudged his forehead into her. "My hands and heart are nowhere near clean."
"Who said they needed to be?" she asked, and kissed his temple. Her head hurt a little to think of all that he felt he had to carry. "You were a tool. And now you get the chance to heal with all of us."
"It's not just what happened with her," he said carefully.
Her mouth firmed into a strong line. "You mean the ones that would have killed you or your family?" she demanded next.
His cheek twitched, almost a smile.
After Fell, there was certainly a new understanding of the man he was. She was aware that he didn't feel regret over the ones he'd killed to protect his family, both animal and human. If she asked him now, she knew he'd say he'd take the same action given the chance. Even so, there was something behind his expression for it.
"It's still enough to tip the scales," he reasoned after a beat.
"Doesn't mean that you don't deserve this, that we don't deserve this life, Graham," she pressed, and grabbed his hand to rest over her stomach again in reminder.
He shut his eyes tight and rested his temple on hers. "That's not what I'm trying to say," he said softly in her ear.
She shook her head, frustration pulling forward tears again and with it a small spark in her veins. "No, Graham, listen. When you say you don't deserve this all, it's like saying I don't deserve it. Like saying Henry doesn't."
He looked doleful as he cupped her face in his palms. "You know I don't believe that, Emma. You both deserve the world and I would happily give it to you. You two and a half people are everything," he said passionately. His dark eyes were set on hers, making sure she read the truth in them. "Now let it go before you get sick."
She sniffed and carefully released the magic across the pane of the window. It sparked and fogged the view before dissipating into steam, and she watched it with worry. "You're my everything, too," she said, voice still watery despite her best efforts.
He kissed her, and she felt the tension in him from the display fall to the wayside. He released her and brushed back her hair. "I love you," he said roughly. He winced. "But I haven't—"
"I'm not some innocent, Graham," she pressed, already seeing the end of his thought. "I'm not perfect. I've done things to scar up my life."
He gave her a look. "You, Emma, you are the hero. Henry is. I'm just … not."
She frowned. She didn't love the word herself. It implied too much about her that she couldn't reconcile. Nonetheless, she did believe he was one. He was the reason she was alive in the first place, and if that wasn't enough, his protectiveness and dedication in this life was affirming.
And no matter what, Henry definitely believed he was a Hero, big capital letters and all. He believed both of them were, her truest believer.
However, she also knew it put a pressure on him that he wasn't ready for. She decided against protesting it outright. "Graham … you are a good man. It's not that I don't care about what you did in the past, but it doesn't change how I feel. You are good."
He hesitated. "I'm glad you think that," he said carefully.
"Henry thinks that. Henry thought that back then and he thinks that now," she said. Her lip quivered as she remembered how utterly depressed his tone was, the hopelessness in his tiny voice. She killed Graham because he was good. She could kill Regina for that alone.
He nodded and kissed her forehead. "I know he does," he murmured into her hairline. "Doesn't mean it's black and white like that."
"Exactly," she said. "It's not black and white. You are a good man and we deserve this life. All of us do. We are lucky, and we deserve it."
"You were meant for so much …," he whispered.
"I would not be happy with anyone else. Not as truly as this," she affirmed.
He acted like she needed someone with no flaws, someone pristine and perfect. That imaginary person would never understand her, never be able to relate. She could never be happy with someone like that, with a life like that. She had been damaged and broken, much like him, and they needed that in each other to repair. Rebuild. Renew.
That wasn't all he thought about, she knew. She considered the nursery back in the other world and twisted her fingers in his hair. "As for the rest … I don't know what our lives would have been. I just know that I love our life now."
He smiled sadly and kissed her again, and she felt as he gave up his worry for the night. "I love you."
She smiled finally and brought his hand over her stomach. "I love you," she replied. "That's how I know we're meant to have this life. No scales, no lists … this is how it was meant to be."
He sunk onto her lips, pulling her tight. "Okay." He rolled his hand over her stomach soothingly. "Okay," he repeated softly.
She hoped he would truly feel it someday, but could see he was trying. That was half the battle after these nightmares sometimes. Suddenly she felt a push from inside her, and she pouted at the fact that she was still the only one that could feel it. He could do with knowing that their little one supported him as well.
When she looked up at his face, though, something had changed. "Was that …."
"You felt it?" she asked excitedly, grabbing his hand and pushing it harder into her stomach.
He swallowed. "I think … I think so." The baby moved again, kicking out, right under his palm. His face absolutely transformed, awe touching his whole features. "Wow."
She smirked and kissed him. "See? She even agrees."
He smiled fully and chuckled, bringing both hands to cover the entirety of her stomach. "Amazing," he whispered, then leaned to press his head to where she was most active. He looked up. "I guess if you all conspire to convince me this much, I should get to believing it, too, huh?"
She cupped his jaw. "You're not perfect, Graham. But you're all we need."
His lashes slipped closed, but he smiled. "This is perfect."
She nodded. "And part of that is because you're here with us."
He hesitated and nodded. "Okay."
She waited with him to see if their daughter would shift again, move enough to make her presence known to her father. She settled with him, warm and comforted, and had to agree: this was amazing.
And she'd do all she could do every day to remind him that he deserved every part of it.
Because it had taken some time, but she finally believed it for herself, too.