Chapter Warning: In chapter 7 there is a discussion about consent. Specifically this chapter deals with the Graham-Regina situation.

Author's Note: Thank you all so much for your reviews, I really appreciate them!

Weeks began to pass in Storybrooke. Mary Margaret and Emma would have breakfast together at Granny's, one hoping to catch David, the other to catch Henry. Only Emma and Mary Margaret got to see each other often. Mary Margaret said that David didn't remember anything from his life here in Storybrooke, but that he had dreams about a fairytale world where he was prince, and she a princess. She didn't try to push David too hard, but rather gave him gentle hints and encouragement. That is, until the hospital told her not to come back.

Mary Margaret was upset, but she could wait.

He would be released eventually.

"If we've waited nearly thirty years Emma, we can be patient for a little while longer."

Emma and Henry started passing notes using Mary Margaret. He thought her idea to tear out the last few pages of the storybook and burn them was brilliant. She told him how brave he was and smart.

Both thought the curse was cracking.

They thought that David was the starting point and tried to focus on him, but that was easier said than done. Regina kept Henry under strict hours, befriended Kathryn Nolan, and loaded the station with work. Apparently, Winter storms are rough in Maine and needed careful preparation.

Henry also encouraged her to spend more time with James, hoping that their past together might help spark something in him.

Emma didn't disagree, but she was also uncomfortable.

James didn't know her, he didn't really know himself. If she tried to offer him anything beside friendship then she would be taking advantage of him. Unlike Mary Margaret and David, who were both cursed (even though one of them was aware of it), but they were still on fairly even footing. Emma had an unfair advantage and knowledge that James Jones doesn't.

And she just didn't feel right about it.

So as much as it killed her, as much as she wanted to tell him, to talk to him, to try something more with him, she hung back. She hugged her grief and her sadness to her body like an oversized coat, unable to let it go and find closure.

Henry didn't completely understand, but he understood consent enough to get that she couldn't pursue James Jones beyond trying to be his friend.

And she was his friend, they had lunch together and grumbled into their coffee early in the morning, making fun of Graham as he tumbled into the station.

And, eventually, they worried about Graham over hot chocolate in the evening.

David Nolan's homecoming was close to Christmas. Regina apparently had to stay late for meeting so Henry snuck out to go with Emma and James. They stand off to the side as Kathryn introduced him to various people. He looked lost among the sea of unknown faces.

"What's it called when a person can't remember things?" Henry asked.

"Amnesia." What is he getting at?

"Amnesia. I think it's preventing the curse from replacing his fairytale story with fake memories."

Huh. "That's a really good point, Henry."

James listened quietly as he always did when a conversation involved Operation Cobra. He was attentive but never involved himself with it, despite Henry's best efforts.

"We have to jog his memory by getting him and Ms. Blanchard together." Henry insisted.

"We've been trying that and she got banned from volunteering at the hospital, remember?"

"Yeah, but now he's free. We have to get them to bump into each other. We have to find out his schedule, planning an accidental meeting."

"Or we could just invite him for breakfast at Granny's on Sunday? Tell him that we'd like to treat him to a normal meal with people he recognizes?"

Henry nodded, "That works too."

David approached them then, "Hey. You're the ones who saved me, right?"

Emma blinked at him for a moment, "Oh, yeah. I guess."

"And you're the only ones I know here." He tried to joke.

Emma smiled at him, amnesia can be disheartening and disquieting. There are three months of her life that she can't recall. She has several surgery scars on her leg to prove it and scarring around her hairline and down her left arm to support it.

"You can hide with us, mate." Killian offered him.

"Fantastic."

A server came over and offered them appetizers, Henry watched as David pierced a cocktail weenie with a toothpick.

"So, you ever use a sword?" The kid has almost no subtlety.

"I'm sorry?" David stared at him incredulously, almost positive that he had heard wrong.

"A sword? I'm wanting to try this thing called LARPing where you pretend to be like a knight or something and fight with swords. Do you want to play with me? I mean, you don't have to but I thought it sounded fun and it would give you something to do…"

Emma took back her previous thought on subtlety and wanted to high five the kid instead.

David let out a wheezy laugh, "Yeah. You know what? That does sound fun."

"Great! Can we do it Wednesday after school? Mom usually has late meetings anyway."

They made their plans, which David seemed genuinely excited about and Jones wrangled an invite to attend.

Turning to Emma, David asked "Emma, you live with Mary Margaret right? You know if she's coming tonight?"

She had to guess that it had been three weeks since David and Mary Margaret had seen each other. He had told her that he had feelings for her, that he dreamed of them in a fairytale castle, married as Snow White and Prince Charming. Mary Margaret had been asked not to comeback shortly after that.

"No, she couldn't make it." They had decided that maybe a party with Kathryn present wasn't the best place for Mary Margaret and David to reconnect.

His face fell, "Oh."

Jones and Henry were still excitedly talking about sword fighting, so Emma took the opportunity to reach out to her father.

"Hey, David." She put her hand on his forearm in an attempt to be comforting. "Amnesia sucks." He gave a small smile. "It does, I know. I've been through it. If you need to talk about it, or just do something that distracts you from it, anything, let me give you my number."

"That would be great, Emma. Thank you so much." Then he was hugging her. She was hugging her father for the first time in her life and he had no idea. "It's nice to know that I'm not alone in this."

She turned her face away, allowing her hair to obscure it as she fought back an emotional wave. "It is."

They stood and they chatted for a few more minutes, but more and more people kept coming up to him and he was getting overwhelmed.

Emma wanted to kick the person who thought a party full of strangers was the best idea for a man who doesn't remember any of them, even though he thinks he should.

When the next person left she stepped in. "Go, David."

"What?"

"This is hard for you and you shouldn't have to put up with it right now." Emma insisted, "Go, get some fresh air. We'll cover for you."

After a moment's hesitation he said, "Thank you," and was gone.

Emma, Killian, and Henry spent the next forty minutes fielding questions and making up fake conversations with silly voices for party goers. Emma gave Dr. Whale her best frat dude voice, Henry gave Leroy a squeaky voice, and Jones gave Archie an impression of Mickey Mouse.

They only stopped for Kathryn when she asked if they had seen David.

They denied all culpability and had a blast for the next hour before everyone went home.

Emma saw David leaving their building when she got home.

"Hey David, whatcha doing?"

He was clearly unnerved by something. "Does everything ever seem wrong Emma, like nothing makes sense?"

To be fair, Emma felt that way when she woke up from her three month coma and couldn't remember how she got into the coma in the first place. She wasn't sure if now was the time to push him.

But she didn't disagree with him. "If something feels wrong David, maybe it is wrong."

David merely nodded in response and walked away.

In the loft she found Mary Margaret looking forlorn. "This is going to tear me apart Emma. He wants me. He has feelings for me, but he's too scared to leave Kathryn."

Emma quietly grabbed two tumbler glasses and pour them each a small glass of whiskey.

"We just have to have faith and believe, Mary Margaret."

They had their breakfast together on Wednesday. David and Mary Margaret tried, and failed, at not flirting in public. He walked her to her car.

It was off to the races, then.

It was just after the New Year that Graham had asked her to work night shift, something he had said she wouldn't have to do.

He told her that he was a volunteer at the animal shelter and they called him in, saying they were desperate for a hand that night and Jones had worked the last night shift.

Emma could taste the lie in the air, but while she moaned about it she still accepted his bearclaw of peace. David started working at the animal shelter after his release and he had told her that they had on-call staff in case of emergencies.

Staff, not volunteers.

Whatever Graham's business was, it wasn't hers' however.

Until, that is, she catches him sneaking out of the mayor's window on her night patrol.

"This is volunteering?"

"Plans changed. Regina needed me to–"

"Sleep with her?"

"No."

"Then why were you sneaking out the window?"

"Because…" He paused, defeat on his face. "She doesn't want Henry to know."

"You did this with Henry in the house?" Emma was angry, she was god damn angry. First of all, her son's manipulative mother, who hates her, was having an affair with the sheriff, her boss. Secondly, Graham has no fucking clue that he's cursed and that Regina has his heart. He can't fucking consent to this.

"He's sleeping. He doesn't know."

"Oh my god, I wish I was Henry right now. This is disgusting." Emma had to break this fucking curse.

"I really do work in the animal shelter."

"Why are you still lying? I know you don't work in the shelter, I talked to David." She threw her keys at Graham and marched off. "You can finish my shift."

She stopped for a moment to ask him, "Who else knows about this?"

"No one."

"Yeah, well fuck both of you because I'm telling Jones."

She walked the rest of the way to his apartment, Graham slowly following her in the patrol car. She was angry.

She was angry at Graham because for hiding it.

But mostly, she was fucking pissed at Reginia for doing this to him.

Unfortunately, Reginia isn't the one in front of her right now.

"Emma please stop. Don't tell James, please. This doesn't have to go any further."

She whirled around on him, yelling at him from the sidewalk as she marched down the street and Graham followed in the patrol car with the windows rolled down. "Oh, so you would rather keep lying? How is someone who is supposed to work for you, supposed to be able to rely on you for support, someone who might get injured along side you in the line of duty, be able to trust you when you are fucking the woman has control over your position- our jobs? Either you tell Jones right now, or I will." This was unbelievable. Emma spent her entire military career having people gossip that she slept around to get her position, when the man in front of her is actually fucking doing it.

Could he agree to it? Maybe not, but the bitterness still bit her.

Emma stomped on in silence, ignoring Graham's pleas until they came to the door of James' apartment building. "Get out of the car Humbert or keeping driving." She turned around and after a few steps she heard the slam of the patrol car door behind her.

"I'm doing it." Graham muttered as he caught up to her on the stairs.

And man, was she glad he did because Jones was angry.

"The sheriff station is supposed to uphold the law, not protect Regina from it!"

"I'm not–"

"Liar. I've been wondering why nothing has been done. Why Regina hasn't been arrested for threatening Emma in front of us."

"James, mate–"

"She illegally obtained Emma's juvenile records, Graham!" His left arm was flung out at Emma, while he used his right hand to point at Graham. "And she published it! That's outright slander! And you did nothing!" His eyes flicked to Emma, "We did nothing. I was following your lead, and apparently that was the wrong choice."

Graham's face fell, looking ashamed. "James, listen–"

"Our job is to serve and protect, but apparently all you've been doing is serving the mayor. Bad form, mate." His eyes were lit like a blue flame. His voice never rose in volume, but somehow managed to convey more anger than any yell could ever hope for.

"James,"

"Get out. Get out of my apartment."

Graham made to speak, as if he wanted to try pleading or to explain himself, but he changed his mind, leaving Emma and James alone in the small apartment.

A small part of Emma felt guilty for not stepping in on Graham's behalf. There was so much of the situation that she didn't know about, like if Graham could even agree to the affair. She did know, however, that Regina was manipulative and controlling and that Graham, soft and gullible Graham, did not stand a chance against her.

A larger part of her was captivated by James, quiet and submissive James Jones, yelling at the sheriff, his boss. For a moment, Emma could see Killian coming to the surface.

The man the young naval lieutenant had become was standing before her, angry and unforgiving.

And he turned his eyes on her.

They softened immediately, "Are you okay, love?"

"Got any hot chocolate?"

"Aye, let me make some." He rummaged around in his kitchen while Emma plopped down onto the sofa. It was a horrible gray and brown plaid number with the springs worn out. She sunk into the faded and frayed cushions.

Almost like the couch had been constantly used since 1983.

Oh wait, it has.

James sank in next to her, handing her a the drink. "You okay?"

She took a long sip. Was she okay?

"I just…" Now that the first anger and shock had passed Emma knew what she was feeling. "It's like he's betrayed us. He's our boss, he's supposed to protect us and instead the mayor has her hand in his pocket." She knew she wasn't being completely fair to Graham, that the situation was more complicated than it appeared right now, but she was still hurt.

James settled in next to her, pushing himself back into the cushion. "Yeah." Then he asked, "What do we do tomorrow?"

"We go to work. Just because Graham can't be trusted with his job doesn't mean that we have to follow his steps."

"Aye, and we'll start after Regina. We'll take her down."

"No, there's no point. We can't take her head on, she has the upperhand."

"Then what do you suggest we do, Swan? You are the injured party here." He was being selfless, he was just as betrayed as she was but he was giving her the choice.

She pushed herself back into the sofa, attempting to make herself a nest with the afghan blanket James left on it. "When I first started in the military the guys in charge of my unit were terrible to say the least. We all got suspicious of their ideas and motives, so we started just questioning everything they did and told us to do. If they couldn't or wouldn't answer us we refused their orders. It kept them begrudgingly honest, or us alive if they refused to be truthful. I say we start doing the same thing with Graham."

"And how do we tell if he's lying?"

"I've got a bit of a superpower: I can tell when someone is lying."
He blinked at her but didn't question her, "Alright, and if you're not around?"

"Trust your gut?"

"Yeah, well, my gut doesn't seem to be working."

"I don't think it's your gut that isn't working, but your mind. You gotta get out of your head more, Jones."

He took a sip of his hot chocolate, "Maybe."

They sat in that capacity for a while longer, Emma eyed the original NES that sat next to his television.

He must have noticed because he dragged himself out of the pit his decrepit couch created, turned it on, and pulled out two controllers. "I've got Mario, let's go."

It was 1AM and several deaths of Mario and Luigi later when Emma finally left his apartment. "Want me to walk you home?" The loft wasn't far, and she doubted that she'd get attacked in Storybrooke, but that doesn't mean she didn't want him to.

She told him yes.

She'd like that.

[Deployment 2002]

It had been a long day. Emma and Killian had pushed themselves to walk nearly 20 miles to make it to the coast, and when they arrived it was only so Killian could get mad that they were about to get on a pirate ship.

"I'm in the Navy, Emma. We kill pirates, not catch a ride with them."

"This is exactly why I didn't tell you who we were meeting. Listen, there's a lot more to piracy than you understand. Especially here, where their resources have been taken through colonialism."

Glaring at her he said, "My brother raised me to be a good man, and a good man does not get on a pirate ship."

"I think you're brother sounds like a dick. Look Killian, do you think I'm a good person?"

"You know I do."

"Yeah? Well watch this good person walk onto the deck of a pirate ship."

He stood steadfast on the docks for several minutes, watching as Emma greeted her friends.

"Killian! Come meet some people!" He cursed under his breath and begrudgingly came at her becking.

After introduction and the captain of the ship giving them lodging Emma told him, "They weren't always pirates, you know. Most of them were originally fishermen, but when they realized that their gains were going out, instead of into their country, and their families, they knew something had to change. Their families were starving, so were their villages. Besides, with Scar cracking down on fishing and merchant ships it is almost impossible to not do something in the Pride Lands that doesn't constitute piracy. They're good people, in their own way, and are just trying to help their families survive."

"He's their king and piracy is treason."

She gave him a sad smile, "I wish it were that simple."

They sat until nightfall discussing piracy and its variations and causes when they decided to go up to the deck.

Killian wanted to look at the stars.

He had been memorizing them every night, asking Emma to quiz him and try to trick him until he knew them by heart.

They were sitting up on the quarterdeck, using the side of the ship as a backrest, Emma and Killian spoke of the stars. As they talked their bodies got lazy. The careful distance that had been kept between them was disappearing. Killian's head was on her shoulder when he whispered, "It is impossible to be lost when you have the stars as a guide, Swan."

Killian had been doing well, only stopping at the constellation of Cygnus to ask, "I know the stories to most of the Greek names attached to your constellations, but I don't know the myth of Cygnus. I keep trying to picture a swan in my head, but I can't imagine where the story goes."

"If it helps, you're starting with the wrong image. The story of Cygnus begins with a man, not a bird." Their voices were quiet, as if both were afraid that too much noise would ruin the moment. The comfort they found in the other.

"You know it?"

In a really bad accent Emma replied, "Aye." Killian poorly stifled a laugh, but Emma's smile was short lived. "It's the only one I learned when I was a kid because I found out Cygnus meant swan in ancient Greek. It made me feel better, when I was 8, to think that maybe I belonged to the stars."

Killian sat up and turned to face her, looking very much like he had something to say.

Only he was too embarrassed to get it out, but Emma was only confused at the sudden loss of warmth.

He wanted to say something corny, something kind, maybe even loving. Instead he asked, "What's the story?"

Emma pulled her legs up to her chest, slightly rocking from side to side. "Well, there are several. My favorite though was about a man name Cygnus who lost his lover, Phaethon. He was so bereaved by his lost that the gods took pity on him and turned him into a swan to help relieve his pain, but it wasn't enough. Still Cygnus mourned his lost love, until he grew old and his feathers grayed. Apollo is the one who placed him among the stars."

"Why did Apollo do that?"

"I don't know. I never figured out why. I like to think he did it because it's a testament to Cygnus' devotion to his lover."

"A testament to be stuck in the sky for eternity?"

"It sounds weird, I know, but from the story it also sounds exactly like what Cygnus would have wanted. To be able to grieve Phaethon for eternity. Mourning someone is the next closest stage to that person being alive. It can be hard to let go of."

"Well Swan, that's bloody depressing."

"I know, but it was my favorite story. It's just…" Emma eyed the deck, running her hands over the grain in the wood and her head resting on her knees.

It's just that I wish someone could love me like that.

Emma hated that something about Killian made her want to be honest. Made her want to be open.

"What is it?"

"This story used to give me hope, you know? Yeah, I know it's sad, whatever, but the fact someone could love like that?" He was closer now, she could make out his blue eyes in the starlight. They were wide and sad. "When I was a kid, I dreamed of being loved like that. Of someone wanting me like that. But now it's just another sad story."

"Emma that's…" He didn't understand. Killian had always had someone who loved him. His brother Liam, from all that Killian had told her, loves him and is most definitely freaking out as much as he is that they're apart.

He had someone looking for him. Emma's parents ran away from her, leaving her on the side of the highway in late Fall in Maine.

It was practically a death sentence for a newborn.

The moment they found themselves in felt pivotal, the words running through his mind so close to changing something. They could feel it in the air, buzzing around them, disrupting the blanket night had cast over them.

Whatever he was going to say died on his lips.

Emma thought he looked like he might kiss her instead.

She wanted him to.

She wanted to tell him that yes, she'd like that.

Rather than that, Killian muttered out words of comfort and Emma quickly went to bed. Leaving Killian to curse himself on the deck.

[Storybrooke 2011]

Graham spent less time in the station the rest of the week, calling off of work for most of it.

Emma found him playing darts at Granny's a few days later, clearly having drunk too much as he slightly slurred, "Next round's on him," after hitting the deer in the bullseye. She was still mad, but that doesn't she mean should leave him here.

That is, until he threw a dart at her face.

"Emma! What can I get you?" Ruby called to her.

"Nothing."

She had just started taking a step further into the diner when he whirled around with a dart. It made a thud in the wood next to her head.

"What the hell? You could've hit me!"

"I never miss. You've been avoiding me, ever since you saw me–"

"Leaving the mayor? And yes, that is a euphemism. Let's get the story straight Graham. I'm the one who's been at work everyday this week, you're the one who's hiding."

She walked out of the diner in an attempt to leave his company, but he only followed her out to the street.

Throw a god damn dart at me motherfucker.

"Look, I know why you're upset! I betrayed your's and James' trust. I know. I just… I need you to understand."

"Understand what, Graham?"

"I don't know. Maybe if I talk to you, then I'll be able to understand."

"If you need to talk about your problems, go see Archie. He's the therapist."

"You know that he belong to Regina, besides I want to talk to you."

Emma shook her head in disbelief. He was right, and she knew that she was at least a little wrong. "Then talk."

"You don't know what it's like with her. I don't feel anything! Can't you understand that?"

She didn't doubt that it's hard to feel when you don't have a heart.

"Look, I know you and Regina have your issues and… And I should have told you before you took the job."

Before she took the job?

"And what about James? This affects him too."

"I should have told him a long time ago."

"Why hide it? We're all adults."

"Because I… I didn't want you to look at me the way you are now. The way James looked at me the other night. Like you can't trust me." His voice was getting thicker and more slurred with each passing minutes. His body swayed and stumbled, Emma stepped forward and draped his arm over her shoulder.

She sighed, "I want to trust you, Graham, but I can't. That doesn't mean I can't help you home." He kept mumbling about his relationship with Regina in between apologies as she walked him down the street. On their way they passed the station and Emma decided to leave James a treat for the morning. Besides, she told herself, they needed to talk to him sober in order to work through this mess.

Graham only lightly grumbled about being put in a jail cell, but Emma underestimated how strong he was in his current state. He grabbed ahold of the lapels on her red leather jacket and pulled her face down to his, forcing a kiss on her.

She took her left fist and jammed it into his crotch.

His eyes were wide as he curled in a fetal position.

He wheezed out, "I'm sorry. I just…"

"What? You what?"

"I need to feel something."

She told him as she kicked his cot, "Being drunk and full of regret isn't an excuse to use someone. I'm not a tool." When she slammed the jail door shut she said, "And don't ever fucking touch me again."

Emma arrived to work the next day to James standing in the middle of the station with his arms crossed, glaring at Graham in the cell who sat with his head in his hands. When Jones noticed her walk in he pulled her out into the hallway.

"Why is he here?"

Emma frowned, uncertain how much she should tell him. "I found him drunk at Granny's and tried to take him home, but the station was closer. Besides, at the time I thought it would be a good way to get him to talk to us, sober, instead of running away from us."

He raised an eyebrow at her, "But?"

"But now I think he's a bit of a loose canon. He's in desperate need of help, James. He's depressed and needs to know that he has friends who support him through this. Regina hasn't been good for him. You need to talk to him."

"Me?"

"Yes, you."

"Only me?"

Emma looked away then. She should put it aside, really, she should, but what Graham had done reminded her of what so many men have done to her in the military. They viewed her as an object, something to be used, something for use.

Someone they could use to make their own life better.

He began to suspect her silence, "Emma, what happened?"

If she told him, will he think "this is why women shouldn't be allowed here?" Emma wanted to kick herself for thinking that of him, but it was too common a belief for her to stop the thought.

She had to be honest.

It's the only way to gain progress.

"I found him at Granny's, he had been drinking. I was going to try to talk to him, get him to leave, you know? But before I could move two feet into the diner her threw a dart at my face."

"He what?"

"So I said fuck it and left, but he followed me telling me how he wanted to talk to me so that he could figure out what he didn't understand. He knows that there is a problem, but doesn't know what it is and wanted to use me to figure it out. He apologized, or kind of apologized, and said that he didn't want us to not trust him."

James grimaced at that.

"Anyway, I tried to walk him home, but then we made it to the station and I thought it would be kind of comical if you arrived this morning to find him in a jail cell, because, well, it is Graham and it is kind of funny. Until it wasn't funny anymore when he grabbed my jacket and dragged me on to the cot with him. He kissed me and I hit him in the nuts. Then I left and now it's morning."

Jones' face became stone, there was brimstone in his eyes, but still he didn't talk. Emma didn't realize how upset she was until faced with James' indignation at Graham's actions, but she could feel her throat tighten. She should stop talking. She told the story, she was been honest. But this is Killian, even if it's James right now, and she couldn't keep up her walls with him. "It's just… he was trying to use me. He thought my body was an answer to his problems, like it was something free for him to use."

"Emma…" She was looking at her boots, eyeing the extra space that her left brace takes up in her left boot.

"You need to talk to him. He needs help. I'm… I'm going to go patrol the docks. You can call me when it's over."

She walked away, images of other men flitting through her head.

Emma watched the fishermen as they brought in their morning catch. She counted the fish with them and tried her best to recall the English words for the various boats and small ships. Having learned to sail on the East African coast she had ingrained the Swahili language in with sailing, so it was a good distraction and mental exercise trying to match up the English with Swahili. She was disappointed, as she was every time, that none of the small ships had sails. She longed for them, seeing them peak over Boston Harbor had been her favorite part of living in the city.

Emma never thought about quitting the department, but she did think about giving Graham a lecture. She made her unit sit through days of training that basically told them how to be decent human beings, reinforced it through practice and example. But this isn't her unit and Graham doesn't have a heart.

Frustrated, she left the docks and walked into town, eventually finding her way into Mr. Gold's pawnshop.

Gold's bell pulled her out of her thoughts as she was greeted by a broken windmill next to the front door of the shop.

"Miss Swan, what can I do for you today?"

"Nothing honestly, I just thought I'd look around your shop. You know, I've never really looked at what you had before. You sure do have a lot of stuff."

"Pawn shops usually do, Deputy." Emma smiled at that, she hadn't spent much time with Gold and it turned out that he's got some sass.

Emma turned back to her wanderings, passing over puppets, lamps, and musical instruments. Her eyes glazed over painting after painting, until finally settling on a model ship not unlike the historic ones found in Boston harbour. When she lived in Boston she used to walk the docks in the predawn light, trying to wrestle with the demons that followed her from the military. Her therapist suggested that she attempt art therapy while she meandered among the ships, so she did and she wasn't bad. It was frustrating, to say the least, nothing ever came out as close as she wanted, but it was rewarding.

The docks in Storybrooke were limited to the boats and small ships Emma had seen earlier, which weren't quite as a pleasurable to draw. She settled for drawing the horizon, but she couldn't help feeling like the pictures were never complete without a ship heading for the sunrise.

"Something caught your eye, Miss Swan?" In the quiet of her thoughts Gold's voice was like a clanging cymbal made out of trash can lids.

"What?" Emma paused for a moment, her eyes still trained on the beautiful coloring on the body of the ship. "Uh, yeah, actually. How much for this model ship?"

"It's not for sale."

"Oh." Emma's face fell at his response, turning to look at him she asked, "Are you sure?"

For a moment Gold's face twisted into a snarl, his teeth bared, before he attempted to smooth it down, but even then Emma could see evidence of it on his face. "Why, might I ask, do you want it?"

She paused, unwilling to answer, trauma is nothing to be ashamed of. Her therapist can kiss her ass. "When I lived in Boston I used to go to the docks and try to draw or paint the ships. My favorites were always the historic ones that looked like this." She had turned back to the ship, her hand lightly tracing the main sail. The more she admired it, the more she needed it. Emma hadn't realized how much she missed those quiet moments in the morning, just watching the ships bobbing in the docks.

"I wasn't aware you were an artist." Gold's expression had changed to one of slight amusement at the idea of Emma being an artist. She had to admit, it was a funny thought, but in the end it was for healing, something she hasn't had much chance of doing since coming to Storybrooke.

Her voice was quiet when she responded, "I'm not, it was for therapy."

"Therapy? Can't imagine you needing therapy." Emma wasn't sure, but she suspected he was making a joke.

"For trauma. I was a soldier." She watched him closely for his reaction. People respond in two ways to finding out that a person is a soldier, they praise you or they abuse you. She had kept it quiet so far, neither Graham nor James speaking about it. Emma wasn't ashamed, but she didn't need people asking her inappropriate questions.

Gold paused at that, his face became noticeably softer, "How long did you serve?"

"About nine years in the Army, give or take. Enlisted not too long after 9/11." Something passed over Gold's face then. Emma couldn't tell what, he looked away too quickly, but to her it almost looked like empathy. What did Gold know about war?

When he looked back at Emma his expression was subdued, "You know what Miss Swan, take the ship. I don't need it."

"Really? How much do you want for it?" Emma was surprised, but excited.

Gold was quiet for a moment before saying, "When you're ready, I'll just take a nice painting or drawing for the shop." He waved his hand at his wall full of artwork, "I clearly don't have enough," and he smile at her.

Emma hadn't expected to receive Gold's kindness and could feel the emotions bubbling in her chest and squeezing her throat, she had to clear it to respond. "Thank you, Mr. Gold. I appreciate it." She will never forget this moment.

He smiled and nodded as he carefully packed the ship into a box. "Here you are Deputy. Have a nice day."

"Thank you, Mr. Gold, you too."

She walked past the shutdown library on her way to drop the package at the loft. The thief that lived in the back of her head noticed that there weren't any security cameras around and that there were still books inside.

Emma decided that it would probably be worth a look later.

"He what?"

James was grim and somber, "He decided to resign his position, noting ill mental health as the reason. Emma, he said that he's been having dreams. Vivid dreams about hunting and deer and a wolf with two different colored eyes."

The wolf. She recognized the description as belonging to the Huntsman's companion, a white wolf who raised him.

Was Graham waking up? She didn't know what to do. She also didn't know how to feel. Find him? Feel guilt? Leave him alone? Be elated?

She didn't know, and it scared her.

James pulled her from her reverie, "Emma. Storybrooke doesn't have a sheriff."

"Yes it does, you. You were his deputy the longest, this town belongs to you now sheriff."