Chapter 5.

I gasped, Sarah's worried face blurring in and out of focus as I stared. She dropped my purse with a thud as she reached out to grip the sides of my face, her hands cold. Why are her hands cold?

"Kit I really need you to say something. You are really freaking me out," she said giving my head a little shake as she said it, hysteria creeping into her voice. And again, her fear focused me, and I was able to pull her face into focus as the last dregs of fog left my mind.

"I'm going insane," I whispered back, looking right into her eyes. I could see her in them, and it comforted me. "Sarah, I think I'm finally loosing it."

"What are you talking about?"

"I keep- I keep," I gasped as I tried to get the words out, suddenly registering that my heart was pounding in my chest. "I keep seeing you sick."

"What are you-"

"I keep seeing things, visions, dreams, hallucinations. I don't know. But it's happened three times since we got to this town. And they feel so...real."

I didn't realize that my body had started to shake or that I was beginning to hyperventilate until Sarah moved her hands from my face to my shoulders, where she gripped tightly and pressed down hard, and in a voice I had never heard from her before, she looked me dead in the eye and said, "Kit I need you to recite your monologue from Titus. The one from the forest scene, when you are talking to you sons. Do it, say it for me right now." What? Why? "NOW."

The tone of her voice was so stern, I obeyed on instinct.

"HaveInotreasonthinkyoutoloo..ok so pale," I took a breath, "thesetwohaveticedmehitherto this place," another breath, "thisbarren detested vale you see it is," breath, "The trees, thoughsummer, yet forlornandlean or'comewithmoss and baleful mistletoe," breath, "here never shines the sun," breath, "here nothing breeds," breath," unless the nightly owl of the fateful raven," breath. She was still looking straight into my eyes, not moving, not shifting.

"And then they showed me this abhorred pit," breath. "They told me here," breath, "in the dead time of night," breath.

My voice started to pick up the performing cadence as the words came back to me. The soothing flow of the memorized words forced my lungs into the regular breathing patterns that came with reciting Shakespeare, a habit born over years of performing his plays and giving voice to his words.

"A thousand fiends, a thousand hissing snakes," breath. "Ten thousand swelling toads, and as many urchins," breath. "Would make such fearful and confused cries that any mortal body hearing it should straight fall mad or else die suddenly," deep breath.

"And no sooner had they told me they would bind me here" breath. "Unto the body of this dismal yew and leave me to this miserable de-eath." My voice stuttered for a moment and Sarah's grip on my shoulders tightened.

She barked, "Finish it."

I immediately picked up where I had stopped ,"And then they called me foul adulteress, lascivious Goth
and all the bitterest term that ever ear did hear to such effect,
And if you had not, by some wondrous fortune come,
this revenge upon me had they executed.
Revenge it, as you love your mother's life,
Or ye be not henceforth called my children."

By the end, I was taking the low deep breaths that the monologue required, the muscle memory forcing my body to overcome the adrenaline. I had stopped shaking too. Sarah's grip on my shoulders loosened as the stern expression on her face melted away, though they stayed where they were. Oh fuck she's smart. God that was genius. I took one more deep breath, blinking away the reminder of whatever that was. Well that was supremely horrible.

"Can you breath?" she asked quietly, her voice still firm and steady. I took another deep breath, then nodded. What was that? Did I just...? No I must really be going crazy. I'm just -

"What is the worst joke you've ever heard of?"

Wait what? I shook my head, still breathing deeply, unable to speak.

"What is the worst joke you have ever heard of?" she asked again, pressing down a bit on my shoulders, moving her hands down just a bit so she was almost pushing me back. My body instinctively leaned forward to keep balance, forcing my body harder into her hands. "Come on, I know that there are worse jokes than the ones you tell, out there somewhere. What is the worse one you've ever heard?"

And my knee jerk reaction kicked in, "Well, there was this one," I started. She nodded encouragingly. "It went something like..." I paused, unable to keep a small smile from creeping across my lips. Her eyes narrowed. "Your face."

She continued to stand there, hands pressing into my shoulders, eyes narrowed, before she nodded slowly.

"You are right," she started in a serious tone. My eyebrow jumped as my grin grew wider. I could almost see what was coming. "That is a terrible joke. But you know, I've actually heard one that's worse than that."

I was grinning like an idiot by this point, "Let me guess-" I started

"Your face.""My face." We said at the same time. Sarah was still stoically looking at me, but I could see her lip twitch as I chuckled.

"And that joke is so much worse than yours," she finished, like she had just concluded a sermon, and making me laugh hoarsely. Ha, a sermon in the bathroom. Makes 'Sermon on the Mount' take on a whole new meaning. The only thing better than that would be if it was during se- FUCK OFF OH MY GOD SHE JUST TALKED YOU OUT OF A LITERAL HALLUCINATION OR PANIC ATTACK OR SOMETHING AND YOU SHOULD NOT BE THINKING THESE THINGS.

"Yeah it really is," I agreed, still chuckling. That finally got her to break and she started to laugh lightly with me. The she sighed, and her hands dropped off my chest as she bent over to grab my purse off the ground where she had dropped it.

"Ok you go take care of business before the bathroom starts to look like a battlefield, then come back out and we'll finish breakfast. And then we'll go from there. Good?" she said lightly, offering me the strap on my purse.

I sighed as the last of the levity faded away and I grabbed the bag from her.

"Yeah, good," I responded, suddenly awash with gratitude for my friend. I truly am one of the luckiest people I know to have a friend like her.

She gave me a smile and a nod, then turned and pulled the door open to step through. Just as the door was closing shut behind her, I heard her call, "Don't fall in!"

I laughed again as I turned back to the so recently vacated toilet, still cheerily holding the remnants of my stomach contents. That's really gross. I flushed it, pulled out a few pieces of toilet paper and wiped the seat, before getting ready to unzip my pants. YOU DIDN'T LOCK THE DOOR.

I jumped up, threw the bolt then returned to my seat. Please, this is just the first of many thrones for you. I scoffed to myself as I pulled my pants down and settled myself, before digging through my purse to find a tampon. After that my actions were on autopilot, leaving me to be as introspective as I chose. I guess most bathroom activities are like that. Brushing teeth, taking showers. They should make a word for like "bathroom thinker." A privy philosopher. A John's scholar. A regular Loo Man. God I'm fucking insane, Jesus. Well, actually.

Hallucinations. There is no one thing that starts it. They've all been different. But- they seem to be moving backward chronologically. The first one was Sarah dying. Then she was on the brink of death, and then me...feeding off her? And I was...not human. I had fangs and my eyes glowed. And I had wings. Like honest to god wings. Was I a vampire? But they don't really have wings. Except in Van Helsing. God what a great movie. And Hugh Jackman, shirtless. Yeah. And David Wenham. And the dude who played Dracula. But all legends of vampires never have that kind of exchange. And the magic too. So what- a fairy? No, I became it, and I've never heard a story where fairies are made. And there was the transformation. It hurt. A lot. So like some mermaid stories, but with wings. So like fury? A harpy?

I deftly zipped my pants as the toilet flushed , and moved to wash my hands. Don't look in the mirror again. Keeping my eyes down, I quickly washed and dried my hands, and grabbing my purse, unlocked the door and made my way back into the restaurant. Well at least my stomach has settled.

As I stepped out, I noticed a couple sitting in a booth at the front of the diner. Ah yes, Eponine and Lost guy. The woman was facing away from me but I could make out the short, pixie haircut and white blouse collar under a pink cardigan. Uggh, people actually wear outfits like that? I thought that was only for the goody two shoes in bad romances. But the man sitting across from her I could clearly see, and he was looking right at me. Strong shoulders and attractive face, with a hard jaw line and a large forehead. But his eyes were remarkable.

I could almost see them sparkle from where I was standing. A gray-green that lent him a sense of ageless wisdom, despite the fact that I could see the signs of age in the fine lines of his face. This one is a fiiiiiiine wine. I met his eye and allowed my brow to rise in a silent and polite question to his stare, before giving him a nod and promptly ignoring him in favor of taking my seat.

I threw my purse back in and slid in to my seat with a wince, my body choosing that moment to remind me that I was in agonizing abdominal pain. Sarah regarded me as she chewed what appeared to be her final bite of omelet. I gave her a smile.

"So finishing breakfast, yeah?" I quipped, trying to not let the conversation go where I knew it was going. She nodded and swallowed.

"Yup, and because I didn't want you to be awkwardly eating while I sit and watch you finish, I have ordered myself a dessert to keep you company."

"How thoughtful of you," I acknowledged with a small smile. She smiled sweetly back before allowing it to slide off and clearing her throat. Here it comes.

"Are you ok to talk about this?" she asked quietly, keeping her voice low enough to not carry. I took a breath and considered.

"Yes. I'm good. Let's do this."

"Ok," she nodded. "So visions?"

"Yeah. The first one was at the gas station. The second one was here after the dude Gold left, and the third was in the bathroom, just before you came in."

She nodded looking thoughtful. "Ok and this had never happened before. Even after-"

"No. I've never crossed the line into insanity before." I cut her off harshly, not wanting her to finish that sentence. She quickly backed off.

"Ok. So. Next. What is in them?"

I took a deep breath, letting the memories flicker in my mind, while I tracked my body's reaction to them. Nothing happened. So it's not what I'm seeing that's causing it. Maybe it's how I'm seeing?

I realized that Sarah was still awaiting my answer. "It is never the same thing. The first time it was you-" my throat tightened. I cleared it before quickly reaching out to take a swig of now lukewarm coffee. Then I took a deep breath. Pull yourself together. Saying it won't make it real. "In the first one, I watched you die."

She took a sharp breath, dropping her eyes to her plate and I could practically hear her thoughts.

She spoke to her plate, "And you are sure this has nothing to do with-"

"Yes I am sure," I snarled.

She flinched from the harshness of my tone, but I couldn't find it in myself to be sorry. I had told her I never wanted her to bring it up again.

"Kit, you need to grieve," she said lowly, doing her best to keep from riling me up. "You need to face what happen and-"

"Fuck off," I snarled at her. She actually flinched away from me. She had never heard me raise my voice outside of jest before. "You don't get to come here and pretend you know anything about what I am supposed to do. I know what happened. I've 'faced it'" I sneered in imitation to her voice.

So I was shocked when out of nowhere, her hand connected with my face in an resounding slap. My head whipped around and I had to stagger as the sting in my cheek burned my skin enough to make my eyes water. I brought a hand up, so shocked that Sarah, sweet, kind, soft-spoken Sarah, had raised a hand against anyone. Especially me.

I looked at her with wide eyes, feeling the ever present rage that always sat hot in my chest being to blaze up. But she met my furious stare unwaveringly.

"I remember two of the most important things you ever told me," she said evenly. "The first one was 'A traumatic past does not give you an excuse to be an asshole.'" Then I watched her lips curl up in a mocking smile so foreign to her features that in the back of my mind I hoped I would never see on her face again. "You also told me, word for word if I remember correctly- 'If I am ever being a dick for no reason, I give you permission to slap some sense into me. I'll thank you for it later.'"

I was still furious but I realized she was completely right, and suddenly I felt almost sick with how horrible a person I was.

I dropped my hand and my eyes, "You're right, I am a dick. I'm sorry"

"Kit," she said quietly, forcing me to look back up at her. I hesitantly met her gaze. "It's ok. Just tell me what I can do to help you."

I took a shuddering breath, tamping down the fire in my chest as pure gratitude for her washed over me. "Don't eve-Please, don't ever bring it up again. Never mention it. Don't act like you expect me to break whenever something happens that you think might bother me. Just pretend like it never even happened. And if you can't do that, then just don't remind me."

She looked at me for a moment, seeming to process what I was saying, before she nodded, then suddenly a cheeky smile spread across her lips. I shot her a questioning look. "As you say... but can I remind you how nice that hand print looks on your face?"

I couldn't help the laugh.

"Thank you," I said quietly. She looked up at me, not understanding. "I never thanked you for smacking me across the face that day. Do you remember?"

There was a slight pause as she caught up to what I was referencing. Then she gave a small snigger, "Well you did say 'eventually.'"

I smiled a little at that, before looking back down at my smoked salmon bagel. My stomach was still churning slightly, but I figured I could force it down. God what if these things I'm seeing actually happen? What if she actually di-

"Kit," Sarah's voice broke my thoughts. I blinked, realizing I had just been death glaring my breakfast, before raising my eyes back up to her.

"Yeah?"

She smirked, "I still think a hand print is a good look for you."

Her comment was so unexpected, I snorted, before I made the inevitable joke, "Jesus Guido, I had no idea you were that kinky."

She started laughing, "Only for you, lover"

I smiled, but I couldn't help the small shiver of foreboding that made my shoulders start to itch again. Only for me. I swallowed past the dryness in my throat, before I managed to wrangle up a wince like smile, quickly diving back into my breakfast in the hope she hadn't noticed. Her second course Fucking really Guido? of an ice cream sunday was delivered not long after and together we ate, letting the conversation drop for the moment.

We finished our breakfast in short order. Man Guido chowed down on that ice cream sunday. I wiped my mouth with the napkin and sat back, the empty plate in front of me feeling like an accomplishment. Now if it actually stays down, that will be the real accomplishment. How long has it been since I ate and kept down a full meal?

The physiologist sitting in the chair across from me regarded me coolly, waiting for my answer the question. But I was afraid to open my mouth, because I could feel the bile rising quickly up in my throat. And before she could remark on the discomfort clear on my face or the beads of sweat rolling down my neck, I jumped up to dash to the bathroom across the hall. I made it in time to empty the meager contents of my stomach into the toilet, gasping and coughing, until the burn in my throat subsided. Then I weakly got myself to my feet, quickly washing out my mouth and splashing my face before trudging back across the hall to the office and flopping back into the seat I had previously occupied. I shot a blear, apologetic look at her, "Sorry, what was the question?"

I blinked out of the memory to look up at Sarah, "Shall we be on our way then?"

She nodded and began to scootch out of the booth. I took a deep breath, grabbed my bag and mirrored her, dragging my ass out to standing. The movement attached the attention of Ruby from the back and she stepped out to the counter with a smile.

"All finished?"

"Yeah, thanks so much. If we could just pay, that'd be grand."

She raised an eyebrow at my word choice, but simply nodded and walked over to the till to ring up our order. Sarah and I followed her, which regrettably put us right next to Lost man and Eponine. Just watch, they are going to say something. I can feel it. Three, two, one...

"Excuse us," came a gentle voice from behind us. I winced. I fucking hate being right sometimes. But Sarah and I both turned, not before exchanging an quick conversation via telepathy. She was insisting I play nice. But I don't want too. I pouted. She raised her eyebrow ever so slightly, indicating she didn't give a shit, and I had to concede to her wishes, plastering a polite expression on my face. At least I think it's a polite face.

The couple were both regarding us with something perilously close to pity, all while tinged with both curiosity and wariness, and I felt my internal hackles rise.

"How can we help you ma'am?" I asked sweetly. The only reason Sarah stiffened next to me was because she knew me well enough to know that the next stage after this was physically biting pieces of people off. Which needless to say would be uncomfortable for everyone involved.

"You are new to town, aren't you?" she said it like she was indulging a child's excitement by asking.

"Now whereve-"

"Yes we are ma'am, just arrived a little while ago," Sarah mercilessly jumped in, cutting off what would have been what I felt to be a perfectly justifiable verbal bitch slap. I sent a quick side eye are her to once again express my annoyance, which she yet again blatantly didn't care about. Always ruining my fun.

"Oh?" she perked up. Holy shit this is like watching the anime girl hear about her crush being discussed by two people around the corner kind of perkiness."And what brings you to Storybrooke?"

I may have growled slightly in irritation, it hard to tell, but Sarah seemed to understand that any more conversation about our private lives with strangers was going to result in something... unpleasant.

"Nothing really," she answered with a half smile and a shrug. "Just passing through."

The man didn't react at all, just calmly watching and processing. The woman however, actually, tilted her head like a dog listening to a sound it doesn't know. Holy shit, this town is like straight out of poorly written TV show. That was the bad stage direction. Next will come the corny, despondent line about being welcome or joining them, or some fucking shit like that.

"That's such a shame," she simpered. Holy fuck people actually do that? I thought that was only for when you are writing and run out of words for 'said'. "We wish you could stay! Its such a lovely town!" Never before have I actually been able to see exclamation points.

"Now Mary- Margeret, I'm sure they have a good reason for not staying. Let's not try to nose into their business," the man next to her spoke up, giving the woman a soft smile. His voice, as before, was mellow and soothing. Controlled and regulated. Well if that smile wasn't telling me TAKEN then I'd tap that. But as always, gay or taken.

Sarah and I were saved the duty of responding to the man's admonishment by the till behind us giving a soft ding and Ruby speaking up, "Here ya go!"

Saved by the fucking bell. I turned gratefully, reeling up my purse to dig my wallet out of the cavernous depths within, and once having located it, I quickly pulled out some cash, glancing a the bill to offer the right amount, plus a tip.

"How much should we tip?" Sarah asked me as we prepared to leave the little Italian place we had decided on for lunch.

"Well what's 20 percent?"

"Three-fifty."

"Then just throw down a five."

She raised an eyebrow at me, "Isn't that kind of a lot?"

I raised a brow of my own, "Do you have to live off the money you have right now?"

"What do you mean?"

"You don't have to pay rent, or really use your own money for food. But chances are, the waiter does. And if this restaurant works like most do, they'll have to pay out to the chef, bus boy, and hostess out of their tips as well. So leaving a five means that the waiter will actually get the twenty percent. Besides, be generous while you can still afford to be, because eventually, you'll be in their shoes and hoping the people you are serving think like us."

We both left a five on the table when we left.

As I handed over the money, I said, "Keep the change. Ph and by chance could you give us direction to an auto parts shop or a car garage?"

"Why, what happened?" she inquired. It's a natural reaction to the question. It's ok. I managed to quell my irritation.

"Our car died in town, so I wanted to see if we could grab the replacement part we need and get ourselves back on the road."

"Well in that case, you'll want Gus's. He's down the block and a street over, turning left."

"That's grand, thank you."

"No problem! Good luck."

"Thanks."

I turned to Sarah, and raised an eyebrow. She gave me a gesture, telling me to lead the way out the door. So I turned back to the what I was safely going to assume was the couple at the table, "A pleasure. Have a good rest of your day."

It was clear that they had keeping take of the conversation, but they seemed surprised at the sudden dismissal, and could only conjure up a "You too," before Sarah and I were headed to the door. With the doorbells. I was a step ahead of her, and with a smirk , I opened the door, bowing slightly and sweeping my arm toward the outside.

"My lovely lady," I snickered.

"Why thank you kind sir," she shot back sweetly.

"Oh t'was nothing madame." And we both laughed as we made our way down the steps to the end of the street and one block over, to the left.