Chapter 4
It took three long months, but Will was finally ready to make the last payment to Granny. Walking down Main Street towards her diner, he was not as elated to get out from under the sheriffs' thumbs as he thought he'd be. Sure, he didn't have to report every morning at an ungodly hour to Emma and David, he didn't have to tramp around the town with them making nice with the townspeople, and he didn't have to listen to Emma tell him what a loser he was. But he had to admit there had been a few benefits…
"Hey, there!" Leroy called as he slowed his truck to a crawl beside Will. "Still runnin' like a dream," he grinned as he patted the steering wheel affectionately. "Wot'd you expect," Will returned the grin, "it was some o' me best work." "Good thing," Leroy answered, "you never know when I'll need these wheels to warn the town of danger!"
As Leroy drove on down the street, Tom popped out of his pharmacy. "Good morning, Mr. Scarlet," he greeted him with a small self-conscious bow. "How's it goin'," Will answered, and shook the hand Tom held out to him. Tom suddenly jerked his hand away and threw his arm across his face as a sneeze erupted from deep within that shook him right down to his shoes. "Well, bless ya!" Will called as he continued on his way. Further along, he glanced inside the Chop Shop, to see Bo watching him go by as she whacked at a side of beef with a huge bloody cleaver. Will shuddered a little and kept up his pace; that woman was one to avoid.
"Watch out there, Will!" A voice brought Will back to the present as he almost collided with a man coming the opposite direction. It was Dr. Hopper, who was out for a walk with Pongo, although it was hard to tell just who was walking whom. Pongo lunged and jumped around them both, almost entangling them in the leash the doctor gripped. Pongo finally pulled to a stop and started to sniff Will's shoes and pantlegs. "Down, Pongo!" Hopper commanded, to no avail. "Sorry, he always does this when he thinks he smells a rabbit." Will reached down to scratch the dalmation's head. "There's a good lad," Will told him, as Pongo's tongue lolled out appreciatively. "Keep an eye on this 'un," he told the doctor, "or he'll go dragging ya all over kingdom come searchin' for rabbit holes."
As the doctor and his dog continued back the way Will had come, Will thought about the scene earlier at the sheriff's station. "The day you've been waiting for," David had said as he counted out Will's final salary for his work. "How's it feel to be finished with this?" Will shrugged as he tucked the roll of bills into his jeans pocket. "Dunno," he replied, "Weren't as bad as I thought it would be."
Emma looked up from her desk where she sat, sorting through another box of files from the library. "Honest work never is," she told him. Both sheriffs regarded the thief, and Will knew what they were both thinking, was he still a thief or now a former thief? Was he still trouble? Would they soon be chasing him again for some transgression? Will didn't even know the answer to that one himself. He'd always been a loner, a rolling stone. But he had always been loyal to those he cared about, and tried to keep to a moral code. Did he care about the people of Storybrooke now, enough to let loyalty overtake thievery?
"Will!" Another voice broke through his reverie, and he smiled to see Belle crossing the street to join him. She linked her hand around his arm as they continued to walk. It felt natural, he realized with a mild shock. "So today's the day," she smiled up at him. "Yep, finally over," he answered. "Things have changed so much," she continued, "some for the better, some for the—" She stopped and he knew she was thinking of her husband, the man who'd claimed to have loved her then did despicable things behind her back. The smile faltered on her face and she stared at her shoes. "Come on, love," he lifted her chin up with his index finger. "Everythin' changes, all the time. Good, bad, we gotta face every bloody one." Belle sighed, and Will continued, "It hurts, it does. But you're a strong lass, I know you are." They had stopped in front of Granny's, and she looked up at him. He was frozen for a moment, he couldn't take his eye from her face, a face that seemed to radiate goodness and innocence. 'And she's with a man like Gold—' he thought as his head seemed to move down towards hers of its own accord.
"Hey!" Ruby's voice cut through the moment, and Belle and Will both turned to see her standing in the doorway of the diner. The wolfish grin on the redhead's face made Belle's cheeks turn quite pink, and she let go of Will's arm. "I-I need to get down to-the shoppe," she stuttered, "I'll see you later, Will. She spun to walk away. "Bye Ruby," she called as she headed to Gold's.
Will slid through the door past Ruby, who let out a low growl from the back of her throat, and she winked slyly at him as he went by. Once inside, he intended to drop the money on the counter and hightail it out the door, but Granny popped out of the kitchen and called to him, "Hey, you! Come look at my ice maker—it's not working right!"
Will sighed. Was he the only one in Storybrooke who understood modern machinery, who'd made an effort to understand this modern life, or were all these broken gadgets just a ploy to try to keep him on the straight and narrow? Even worse, after he'd reconnected her compressor, and made sure she didn't have any leaks in the line, Granny had actually smiled at him and invited him to sit down for a slice of apple pie, on the house. Well, maybe ordered him to sit down was a better description, and when she walked back to the kitchen after depositing the plate in front of him, he gingerly lifted the top crust with his fork. He knew all about Enchanted Forest apples.
Sauntering down the street a half hour later, his stomach full, he kept a lookout for the sheriffs or anyone who might know the sheriffs. A few blocks south of the library, he glanced around again and then stepped into a shadowy alleyway, went around the back of the wooden structure, and headed along the coast for the docks. After a few minutes keeping to the dark side of buildings, he did a bit of backtracking to make sure he was not being followed. He spent a good 40 minutes moving through side streets and hugging the tree lines before he finally ducked into a small rundown building. He had managed to keep his apartment location a secret from the Charmings, and he didn't need them pounding on his door now.
Once inside he slid the deadbolt back in place, and made his way to the living room. If the outside of the building was rundown, the inside was downright shabby, but he didn't care. He lived there but it wasn't his home, not really. Skirting around boxes stacked in a pile, he flopped down in the only chair in the place, a brown overstuffed lump that had clearly been around since Victorian England. He propped his feet up on a box and closed his eyes, trying to figure out what to do next. He had that blessed bloody pardon, which the mayor didn't realize included every box here in the apartment, all filled with stolen goods he'd pinched before she cleared him of his misdeeds. But there was the catch; he knew deep in his heart, if he sold any of his stored up stolen loot now, he was committing a crime not covered by the mayor's decree. A sigh seemed to come from his very toes. The whole ice wall problem had kept him from moving his merchandise out of town, but even now that the ice was gone, he wasn't sure he could get it all safely to his buyer, or if the buyer would even turn up again. Too many people in Storybrooke knew who he was, a definite hindrance in his line of work. He had always been a thief, and thought he was always gonna be a thief, but he'd spent too much time lately outside of his chosen profession, and way too much time hanging out with the sheriffs, the townspeople—and Belle.
He slid down lower in the chair, feeling drowsy. He had desperately wanted out of this town so much, out to stay. He had missed everything about his old life. Thoughts of Anastasia stole slyly into his brain, how her gold hair swirled around her shoulders, how her lips pouted and parted in laughter, how her eyes sparkled as only they could. He hadn't been able to figure out how the hell he could ever get back home. Knowing Ana was probably crushed about his failure to turn up made his heart hang like a stone in his chest. Why was it just his luck the bleedin' curse had caught him again? Maybe she'd think he disappeared on purpose; deserted her right before their wedding. He'd hoped that she would send the rabbit to search for him, and he hoped even more that the rabbit would have the sense to check Storybrooke first. But the magic mirror hadn't been able to open a portal back to Wonderland when he first found himself back here, because of the ice wall curse. Maybe the rabbit had tried too, and given it up as impossible. Another sigh escaped him. Now he couldn't remember where he'd buried his damned bloody traveling bag out there in the sand, so he couldn't use the magic mirror again if he wanted to. Why were negative thoughts so easy to take root in his brain, while the positive thoughts never stayed long enough to matter?
Sometimes he hoped she would forget him and move on, since it seemed as if he would never escape this bloody town. But he always thought he could never forget her. Ana was his life, his heart, and his soul. Nothing, not magic, not whiskey, not fighting, not baiting the sheriffs, could dull his pain over losing her, even for a short while.
He hadn't been doing much drinking or fighting lately, thanks to the bloody Sheriff Charming father and daughter making him pay for damages the rabbit had caused. Instead, he'd been surrounded, outnumbered. Despite his best efforts, he had adjusted to Storybrooke. He knew the people, he had helped them, he was becoming a part of the town instead of apart from it. He thought he wanted to go home, but today he wondered if there was anything still waiting for him back in Wonderland. He didn't know where else to go, and he felt so exposed here, exposed to the people, exposed to their friendship, exposed to their acceptance, exposed to—Belle's face suddenly filled his brain.
Bloody 'ell! He preferred to keep his secrets, as heavy as they were, rather than share them and lessen his load. Now he was struggling to keep his feelings inside rather than sharing them with anyone; it was wearing him out. He slowly pulled himself out of the chair and stumbled towards the small bedroom, pausing in the kitchen to grab a bottle of whiskey. He poured half the bottle down his throat, kicked his boots off and fell face first onto the bed. If he was going back to his chosen profession, he had to start sleeping during the day again. If he was going to face the bloody changes and be as strong as he'd told Belle she could be, well…he drifted off to sleep.
Emma and David were wrapping up a day's work at the station. Emma shoved the last of the case folders into the file cabinet and glanced at her father, who was gathering up the mess on his desk into some semblance of order. "So what do you think?" she asked him. He looked up at her and frowned. "About what?" She stood in front of him and folded her arms over her chest. "Will Scarlet. You think he's changed, or will we find him drunk and passed out in some store tomorrow morning?"
David stood up and moved around his desk to join her, and they headed for the door. "I can't answer that one," he conceded. "I tried to show him what he could do in this town if he stayed out of trouble, tried to show him he has worth. He's made a few friends now, a few connections to the town. Maybe it will motivate him." He stopped and faced her. "Give a man the proper motivation, you never know what he might be willing to do." They shrugged into their jackets and headed home to Mary Margaret.