Author's note: Thank you so much for all the reviews and follows! Wasn't planning on updating twice in one day, but since y'all r so nice here's another chapter.

Chapter 7

Emma drove rapidly back to her apartment. Earlier, she'd gone to the station and dropped off her badge and resignation letter. Someone would undoubtedly find it eventually. She parked the car and crept silently upstairs. Most likely Mary Margaret and David were out helping people (because that was what they did best), so she didn't really have a reason to sneak around. Still, on the off chance that they came back, she decided to be extra quiet. The last thing she needed was to run into them. She didn't need them to give her the speech about how they loved her and wanted her to stay, etc.

She packed as quickly as she could. Luckily, she hadn't brought that much to Storybrooke to begin with. She'd been meaning to, but never got around to it. Most of her stuff was still in her old apartment in Boston. It was as if her subconscious knew that Storybrooke wasn't a permanent option for her.

Zipping up the last suitcase, Emma took one last look at the room she'd called home for the last several months. It looked really sad now that the bed was stripped and her perpetual mess was gone from the floor. She dropped off her keys on the kitchen counter, leaving a note that simply said: I'm leaving. Need some space and time to get used to all of this. Don't call me I'll call you. Tell Henry I'm sorry.

Yes, it was a rather harsh note, but she wanted to make a clean break.

She stepped outside into the cold morning air, and began loading her stuff into the trunk of her yellow bug. Because she was so messy, there was a bunch of junk in the trunk that made it really hard to pack in her suitcases. Emma sighed, pulling out everything that was piled in the trunk. This could take a while. Briefly, she wondered about what would happen if someone saw her. They would probably tell her parents, who'd come running back to stop her. She laughed at this ridiculousness. She was afraid of her parents, who were her age and probably physically weaker. Well, at least Mary Margaret was.

Grabbing an armload of old magazines that she had no idea what they were doing in her car, she dumped them onto the sidewalk and bent down, attempting to stack them neatly when she saw a pair of black boots appear in her line of vision.

"Emma?"

Dammit it was him. Slowly, she stood back up, dusting off her hands on her jeans. "Hi." She winced, hating the way her voice shook. She looked around, making sure her eyes didn't land on his.

"What are you doing?" Graham asked.

"What does it look like?" She said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Cleaning out my car."

"No. I meant with all those." He gestured at the suitcases and duffel bags strewn around her car. Suddenly, it dawned on him. "You're leaving?"

"Yeah." She answered simply. What was the point of denying it? "So if you excuse me, I have lots to do." She reached for one of the suitcases, but he blocked her way.

"Why?"

It was a simple word that usually required a simple answer. But not in this case. She couldn't find the words to explain, so she just shrugged.

"None of your business." Emma said casually, hoping Graham would just leave her alone. She really wasn't in the mood for this. She tried to reach her stuff again, but he stepped in front of it.

"Not funny." She said, shoving him aside and grabbing the handle of her luggage.

"Emma." He stopped her, grabbing her wrist like he did that night in the station. "Why. Are. You. Leaving."

She ignored him, shaking off his grip roughly. He watched helplessly as she threw the rest of her stuff in her car and slammed the door shut.

"Are you just gonna stand there? I wouldn't want to run you over." Emma raised an eyebrow at him.

"No…but…" He struggled to find the right words. "What I'm trying to say is..."

"What?" Emma crossed her arms over her chest impatiently. When he didn't say anything, she sighed. "I have to go. I don't need this right now." She turned to get into her car, but he grabbed her hand stopping her yet again.

"But Emma…" He began. "I love…"

She yanked her hand away as if he'd burned her. "Don't say that." She snapped harshly.

"Why?"

"B-because. It's not that simple." Emma answered. She looked down, hating the way her voice shook.

"Why not?" He asked, genuinely confused. "I know exactly how I feel about you."

"No, it's just…" She didn't really know what to say. Graham had that effect on her. There was just something about his adorably cocky grin and charming accent...

"Emma. You're gonna have to learn how to trust people. To trust that not everyone's gonna hurt you." He said softly.

Wow. He'd known her for such a short time yet he'd managed to read her perfectly. Managed to break down her walls. He was good.

"I know you." He continued. "I know that you've been hurt before, and pretty badly too. You're afraid to let anyone in. But you need to know that I would never hurt you, Emma. I love you."

There. He'd said it. The l word was a 4 letter word to her. That word brought back horrible memories. Memories of abandonment, fear, and above all, loneliness.

Without realizing it, she brought her hand back and slapped him. Hard.

"Fuck off." She said, wheeling around and getting into her car.

Emma's last view of Storybrooke was Graham, standing in the middle of the road, crushed.

Author's note: Don't worry. It won't stay sad for long.