Chapter Two

Vivien had managed to go home for a few minutes. She'd thought to make some dinner, have a drink, maybe a hot bath and hope that all this would be some fever dream come tomorrow. But the moment she walked into her apartment she'd felt the air grow thick and she couldn't breathe. The walls were smaller and closer than she ever remembered.

Stupid girl. Too pretty for your own good.

What do you want? Tell me anything.

What did you do? What did YOU DO?!

She'd changed her clothes and bolted from the room as fast as possible. She didn't even pay attention to what she put on, so long as it wasn't the medical scrubs too flimsy to protect her from Maine's evening air. She walked fast, trying to make her footsteps mask her heartbeat.

"I'm in Storybrook." She whispered to herself, trying to focus on what she knew to be true.

"I'm a physical therapist at the hospital." She had to pick up her pace to keep up with her heart. The cold air was making it feel like it might pound out of her chest.

"I trained as a nurse but wanted to do more hands on." She ground out the words, trying to force them to be reality.

"I had a problem with forging prescriptions until I got into NA." she could taste bile on every word. Nursing, hospital, PT, meds, college; nothing would hold. She gripped a brick wall to keep from falling. The lies wouldn't stick.

You'll never learn.

Close it now.

Pretty child, you're perfect.

Don't leave me here!

She found herself on her knees on the rough cement, grateful she hadn't eaten all day because she was dry retching the contents of her stomach onto the sidewalk.

"Hey, are you ok?" a concerned voice floated from the edges of her consciousness. Gentle hands took her shoulders and pulled her upright.

"Mmkay." Vivien tried to object but her mouth wasn't working right. Her throat hurt and her lips were numb.

"Course you are." The unknown helper supported her body weight and helped her stagger into a nearby door. They were pulled into welcoming light and warmth. Vivien didn't fight as she was steered to a table and guided gently into a chair. She'd had her eyes screwed shut. If she opened them she might be, well, she might be back there. Back where her brain was trying to force her to be.

"Drink this." The kind voice commanded, pressing a cold glass into her hands. Vivien obeyed, sipping the drink after only one graceless attempt that had the straw stabbing her cheek. The ginger ale percolated down her throat and into her stomach. After a few more sips she dared open her eyes. At least her mouth tasted of something other than bile.

Scanning the room it took her a moment to realize she was in the White Rabbit. Not usually her kind of place but she wasn't going to object now. Her companion – rescuer, she corrected herself – was a young woman of startlingly fair complexion and eyes so blue they almost screamed vacuous innocence. If there were such things as evil twins then this woman was the good half of Emma Swan. Vivien giggled before catching herself.

"Feel better?" the blonde inquired, immediately smiling at the sound of her laughter. She was wearing an ungodly amount of pink. Really. It was worse than pink, it was sparkly.

"Yes. Much. Thank you." Vivien finally managed to speak and noticed that her mouth still felt like she'd been chewing sandpaper. So why did the rest of her feel so much better? She took another sip of the ginger ale before realization hit her. She eyed the bubbling glass.

"You looked like you needed it." The other woman offered with a hint of apology. Vivien ran her tongue around the inside of her mouth, tasting the lingering sticky sweetness. Yes, there was just a hint of acid on the aftertaste.

"Vodka?"

"Always does a wonder for me!" the blonde smiled before gesturing to the bartender to bring her a similar beverage. Vivien thought about objecting. She could outline all the reasons that alcohol was a terrible idea for anyone who'd been vomiting (or close). She could even give her a quick lesson in gastroenterology, complete with technical terms. Except she could tell by the sparkle in the woman's eyes (not just her glittering shirt) that the drink was for her head, not her stomach.

"Have we met?" Vivien set her glass down, proud she got it onto the table on the first try. In one corner of the bar a band was playing punk rock music. She could actually hear it now that her thoughts weren't screaming as loud.

"I'm not sure. I'm Fay. No," the woman paused and her brow furrowed, straining like a beauty queen doing algebra, "No, I'm not. I was. Fay, that is. I'm – my name is Glinda."

"I know the feeling. Nice to meet you, though. Vivien." She reached across and they shook hands. It seemed stupid to try to complicate things with other names right now. Who you are, who you aren't . . .who was really to say?

"Oh, you work at the hospital, right? I think you used to treat my friend,-" Glinda's voice faded and the pained expression was back.

"I , uh, I treated a lot of people." Vivien decided for the diplomatic answer. Perhaps the vodka cure didn't work as well as the effervescent woman hoped. Her face had the lost look of someone traveling deep into her thoughts.

"We weren't friends before here. I thought I hated her," Glinda was lost in her own world of conflicting memories, "But she's been such a good friend. We worked together. We did everything together."

Vivien took a deep drink of her ginger ale and vodka, hoping to smother any reaction. It wasn't that Glinda sounded like she was giving away any intimate secrets. It was more the dreamy look in her eyes that was tinted with an undeniable hint of lust. This was way more than she wanted to know. Best to get out of the conversation, back away slowly . . .

"Where is she?" Vivien's mouth obviously hadn't been keeping up with her brain. Wrong question, dammit!

"I don't know!" Glinda's blue eyes began to well up with tears.

"Hey, hey, it's ok!" for the second time that day she found herself being cried on by a helplessly emotional girl, "If you know her name and where she stayed I'm sure you can find her. It's a small town, right?"

"You don't think she's gone?" Glinda sniffed and Vivien tried desperately to not think about hygiene and what might be happening to her shoulder.

"With what happened today? I don't think anyone is leaving without answers." Viv shook her head certainly. Even if she wanted to run she knew she couldn't. She was going to stay here until she understood everything that had happened. Then she'd run.

"You're right! I didn't even check her place!" Glinda bolted to her feet and was halfway to the door before she realized she was still clutching Viv's wrist. She released her grip with an apologetic blush.

"Go get her." Vivien encouraged, twisting and testing her wrist to be sure no damage had been done. The woman let off a happy squeal and exploded back into the night in a hail of blonde and pink bubbliness. Viv settled back into her chair and drained her drink with a grotesque sucking noise. The bartender, wearing a vintage white waistcoat, appeared to sweep away the glass and take a new order.

"Whiskey. Straight." Was all she muttered as she turned her focus to the live band. She didn't do drugs anymore. Music and alcohol would have to suffice.