DISCLAIMER: I do not dare claim any ownership for the fabulous characters, situations, plots and/or spins on old stories that ABC's geniuses have given us on Once Upon a Time.

This is a what-if story: The way I figure, something DID jog his memory that night in the pawn shop…but it wasn't the windmill…

In the shadow of the toll bridge

Chapter 7 – Old friends who've just met

"It killed me to have to send him back there," James sighed, shaking his head as he cradled the phone against his shoulder while leafing through another elaborately concocted photo album of lies.

Even over the phone, Snow's voice was warm and comforting. "You made the right decision. He's actually in more danger when he's with us than with her right now. We can't take him away unless—"

"Unless we're ready, I know." He nodded and agreed; that didn't mean he had to like it. With a thud, he set the book back on the coffee table and settled into Kathryn's overly plush couch. "He's really something, Snow." He could almost hear her smile.

"He really is. Wonderful boy, and so smart."

"I mean talking to him, I felt like…I mean it was almost as if…" he trailed off, unable to finish.

"I know, darling," Snow whispered, needing no further explanation, for she felt the same way.

"You were right about how much he knows too. Did you know that Ella had her baby?"

"…What?"

"Yeah, Henry said he and Emma found her a few weeks ago. Took her to the hospital." Something clattered on the other line and James heard a muffled gasp. "Snow? Are you all right?"

"I-I'm fine." Her pitch was slightly higher than it had been. "The phone slipped out of my hand. I…I can't believe I didn't realize—"

"Realize what?"

"Ella!" she cried. "Her name's Ashley here. And Emma did tell me all about her encounter with Gold and the baby and…oh James, I didn't even put it together until now!"

"It's ok Snow—"

"No it's not! As Mary Margaret I never really even spoke with Ashley. I ordered cocoa from her a few times when she'd occasionally work out front at Granny's, but I never…Oh how could I?"

James leaned forward on the couch, adjusting the phone so he was sure he was speaking to her as clearly as possible. "Snow, listen to me. It's not you, it's the queen. Ella is one of your dearest friends. It makes sense that the curse would remove you as far away from your closest friends as possible. She put me in a coma for God's sakes."

He heard her sigh. "I know…it's just…" James waited patiently for her to continue. "All day I was watching people as they'd walk by on the street, saying hi to folks I've been talking to for years but never recognized. And every time I realize who this or that person used to be, I feel like…like I failed them."

"You haven't failed anyone."

"I know but it still feels that way. Do you know Geppetto is the town mechanic?"

"Geppetto?" James flew to his feet. "You found Geppetto?"

"On my way home from school. His name's Marco Collodi here. I saw him walk into the hardware store." She paused and James could tell, even over the phone, that her face twisted in anguish. "He's fixed my car I don't know how many times, James…and I didn't…I never once even thought…"

He hated this: stuck here in a stranger's house miles away from his beloved while she suffered the pain and guilt of a princess grieving for her people. "Snow you can't keep doing this to yourself. There was nothing you could have done. Nothing any of us could do."

The line was silent for a few moments. And then…"I hate her," she whispered suddenly, and James sucked in a breath. "I swear to God, James—"

"I know—"

"If we can't stop her—"

"We will."

"I mean if she ever—"

"Snow?" he said firmly, yet still soothing. "We will," he said again.

At last, the tension eased from her voice. "Ok." she said.

And James sighed in relief. Snow's furor had a tendency to get the better of her. In the comforts of their old home, cradled within the chambers of their summer palace, James's steadiness always had a way of tempering her frustrations, her grievances. How he wished he could steady her now, place a comforting hand over hers and still all her worries (not to mention assuage a few of his own).

"One day at a time, Snow," he said.

"I know," she said and her voice continued to soften.

James was about to shift the conversation again when he heard the thump of a car door outside. "Hold on a minute," he muttered and hurried down the hallway to the front room. He figured it would be Kathryn returning from market, so it was quite a shock for James when he peered through the crack in the curtain…and saw the queen herself coming up the drive. "Snow I have to go. The…there's someone here." It would do no good to have her worrying all night about this latest development.

"I love you," Snow said hastily.

A loud rapping sounded at the door. "I love you," he replied, drawing strength from the very words. They hung up; James drew a deep breath and opened the door.

Though he'd had a few moments to prepare himself, he was still quite shocked by the queen's altered appearance. Her hair, no longer pulled back by the stiff black netting she had so favored before, hung free and loose at her shoulders. And it wasn't as though he'd expected her to be dressed in miles of lavish, flowing of black satin, lace and tulle, but the sight of her in a modestly cut suit under a grey winter coat rendered her appearance quite…human…

Almost…Her eyes were still a steely grey, and her expression reflected no warmth. "Madame Mayor," he said, his eyes narrowed though still (he hoped) friendly.

"David," came her smoky voice as her lips curled into a winning smile. "I think after all that's happened, you can call me Regina."

James offered a small smile in return. "Of course…Regina. What can I do for you?"

"Well an invitation inside might be nice," she said with a smirk; her hand came to her hip as she rested her weight on that leg "Bit chilly out here."

He blinked a few times but recovered. "Right…right of course. Come in, sorry. Kathryn isn't…uh…" he moved backwards and Regina came inside, pulled off her black leather gloves, and stood in the front hallway. "She's not home."

"No but you are."

Again, his eyes narrowed. What game exactly was she playing now? "Yyyes. I am."

The queen made no reply; she merely stared at him with a grin.

"Is that a problem?"

Regina cast a sideways glace toward the living room and then past him to the dining room, reminding James of a lioness surveying her prey. "Well considering you were about ready to jump ship when I saw you last…" she offered, resting her eyes on him once more.

"Oh!" James's reaction this time was genuine. He had truly forgotten. "Right."

"But I see you've come back," she smiled and stepped closer to him. "Second thoughts?"

James resisted the urge to clench his teeth and maintained a rather harmless posture. "Something like that. I've uh…I've started to remember things."

"Really?" Regina's eyes brightened almost as much as Kathryn's had. "That's wonderful news."

"Well you know…little things," he clarified, not wanting to get himself caught in a twist of lies between his fake wife and her evil friend. "Most everything is still a…" he paused and leveled his eyes at her once more. "A haze," he said meaningfully. This particular word seemed to please the queen. Success, he thought.

"Well I'm sure everything will return in time. Now that you're," she moved past him, crossing her arms over her chest, "moving in the right direction."

"I'd like to think so," he said and his pulse started racing. This slow circling she was doing did nothing to lessen the impression she'd made of a huntress circling her kill. Did she know? Could she tell? Was there some part of the curse visible to only Regina that allowed her to see those who had awakened and those still under its spell? He really had no way of knowing, and fear gripped his heart as she continued to scan the house.

When she finally turned to him, however, her expression showed only relief. "Well then I think this is cause for celebration," she said, smiling. "I'd like to invite you and Kathryn to my house for dinner tomorrow evening, a formal welcome home."

James took a small step back. "Uh…didn't we just…do that?" he thought of that farce of a welcome home party for 'David'.

"Yes of course, but I think we both know you and Kathryn weren't really in a…great place then. Now that you've made the decision to stay, it seems only fitting to truly celebrate your return."

"Well umm…I don't know—"

"Please," she said, and her voice sounded almost…warm. "While you were…figuring things out, I spent a lot of time with Kathryn. She's been through a lot and…well I know what it would mean to her for the two of you to go out together and enjoy the company of good friends."

James's mouth fell open a bit as he stared in disbelief. Was the Evil Queen actually professing to care for someone else? Was that…compassion he found in her eyes? If this was a trick, it was perhaps the most elaborate deception he'd seen yet. Could it be that as Mayor Regina, the queen had found…a friend? "I will uh," he cleared his throat, "I will check with Kathryn—"

"I've already done that. Kathryn has already accepted my invitation. Of course," she added curtly, returning to the doorway as she pulled on her gloves, "she didn't want to speak for you. My son and I will expect you both at 6."

James's heart leapt into his throat and he swallowed hard. Your son? he thought angrily, but he controlled himself, and she was thankfully still facing the door while he unclenched his jaw and fists. Henry, he thought. Henry…at dinner…with the daughter of Midas and the Evil Queen. In a flash he was by the front door, pulling it open for her in a (slightly exaggerated) show of chivalry as he looked at her and said, "I'll be there."

…

Why was she shaking? It was a perfectly natural errand. A perfectly natural call for the local schoolteacher to make. The arrival of a new baby in any small town was justification enough for gestures of support and gifts from the community. The arrival of a new baby in Storybrooke? Well…though the rest of the town had yet to realize it, this particular event had not ever occurred here. So as Snow stood on the sidewalk of Barbarac Lane, holding tightly to a hastily assembled basket of sweets, blankets, children's storybooks and flowers, it was with an arsenal of explanations and excuses she was prepared to offer the woman inside who – for all intents and purposes – had no clue who Snow was. It was foolish, she admitted to herself. 'Brash' as James might call it. After all, she had no real plan except to hopefully be invited inside and to…well, to talk. But if one look at a child's mobile could jog the memory of her beloved prince, was it so naïve to hope that good company and conversation might jog the memory of her beloved friend? No, she thought defiantly. And with a renewed sense of purpose, she marched up the stone steps and rapped on the door.

Even from the tiny stoop outside, Snow could detect a bustle of activity within. There were dishes rattling and a child crying. A lock from the inside unlatched, the door swung open…and Ella stood in the frame behind the screen.

Lord, she looked so young. Still so young. Too young then and too young now to be dealing with the stresses of either world. Standing before her, Ella looked more to Snow the way she had when they had first met – before Snow had met James; before Ella had escaped the clutches of her step mother and sisters. Sweat and smudges on her cheeks, with just a bit of flour in her hair, the poor girl looked worked to death.

"Uh, hello," the girl said tentatively.

Snow gulped. "Hello, Miss…Boyd right?"

Ashley clutched the edge of the door. "That's right. May I help you?"

Snow broke into a huge grin. "Actually," she held the basket out in front of her, "I'm kind of…here to help you." Ella looked at her strangely but did not back away. "My name is Mary Margaret Blanchard. I teach at the elementary school?"

"Oh yes," she said with a very faint bit of recognition. "Umm," she looked down at the care package, chewing her bottom lip. She was about to reply when a loud wail pierced through their awkward introduction. Whipping her attention back and forth between her visitor and screaming baby, she rushed back into her house. "Umm, come in!" she called back.

Left on her own, Snow's eyes widened as she stepped into the tiny home. Immediately, she was saddened by what she saw. The place was, in a word…a mess. It was a ranch style house with a small living room to the right. But 'living' room was a bit of a misnomer. Between the ripped and tattered couch and tiny television stood a basinet and playpen. The couch itself was covered in piles of baby clothes, wet naps and assorted laundry, with one end of it having clearly been used recently for diaper changing. The dining room table seemed more like a home office space with stacks of bills and assorted paperwork strewn about. Ella seemed to have disappeared into a small hallway down which, Snow assumed, was the only bedroom. She could still hear the baby crying in the background, but another sound arrested her attention: that of a metal lid clinking violently atop a pot that had begun boiling over. Setting her basket down on a nearby chair, Snow rushed to the small kitchen and turned down the burner. She had grabbed a wooden spoon and was stirring the spaghetti noodles inside when Ella emerged from the hallway, holding a tiny bundle in her arms.

"Oh, thank you so much," she said in relief.

"Please, it's no trouble," Snow continued stirring.

Ashley shifted the baby to one shoulder and, with her free hand, opened the cupboard above the small refrigerator. "She's been crying all day. I haven't been able to get anything done."

Snow glanced up at a rather empty cupboard of canned goods and spotted Ella's intended target. "Here," she reached up for a jar of spaghetti sauce. "Let me get that."

A bit surprised, but grateful, Ashley stepped back again. "Thanks." Taking advantage of the extra help, she reached for a stray cloth on the counter, maneuvered it in between her baby and shoulder, and started to bounce. "Do you do this a lot?" she asked with a light chuckle, "come over to random people's houses and help them cook dinner?"

Snow smiled. "Only when they're having Italian."

Her friend laughed outright as the little girl coughed up a tiny bit of spittle and then cooed herself quiet. Ever so gently, she eased the baby away from her shoulder and into a cradle, marveling that the little tyke was finally, and blessedly asleep.

Snow was suddenly thankful for the impromptu need of a kitchen helper, for it afforded her a welcome distraction from the achingly beautiful baby girl before her. "What's her name?" she asked, searching through the tiny assortment of drawers and miniature pantries. She'd retrieved a small sauce pan and had emptied the sauce into it atop another burner.

"Alexandra," the young woman answered softly, swaying back and forth.

Snow paused. Alexandra…that was the name Thomas had wanted. "That's…" she cleared her throat, "that's beautiful." She glanced sideways at her old friend and cocked an eyebrow. "How did you come up with that?"

Ashley looked up and chuckled. "You know, I've actually been trying to figure that out. I really have no idea. It just…came to me."

Snow nodded, but didn't reply, fixing her eyes back on her work.

Confident that her baby was sleeping soundly, Ashley padded over to the living room and laid her down in the basinet. A wave of relief overcame her as she watched her little girl finally resting. Glancing back at the kitchen, she felt a surge of gratitude for this Mary Margaret. Upon her arrival, Ashley had immediately felt more at ease…less alone. She couldn't explain it, but this woman had brought calm to the house. Her daughter had certainly felt it. So it was with much regret that she turned and felt obligated to tell the woman that she needn't stay. After all, to take advantage of a stranger's kindness was the height of incivility. She'd learned that…somewhere. "Thank you so much," she said again. "For stepping in. But you really don't—"

Snow held her hand up at once. "I've got nowhere to be," she assured her friend. "Please," she pulled a chair from underneath the dining room table, indicating that the girl should sit. "Let me."

With another grateful smile, Ashley moved across the tiny living space, removed the pair of men's jeans lazily slung over the dining room chair and sat down. Lord, it felt wonderful to be off her feet. "I can't thank you enough."

"It's spaghetti," Snow said pointedly. "The best way to fake that I know what I'm doing in a kitchen."

Ashley laughed heartily at this and she leaned back into the chair. "That and macaroni and cheese," she added. Then she leaned forward immediately, "Don't tell Sean I said that. He's always very proud of himself when he makes it."

Snow paused mid-stir but didn't look up. She decided to feign ignorance. "Sean?" she asked.

"Oh! My uh…my boyfr—" Ashley hesitated, glancing back at the crib. Boyfriend suddenly seemed such an inadequate term. "Alex's father," she said.

Snow nodded, turning the burner down to simmer when the sauce came to a healthy boil. She moved to the little archway between the kitchen and living room and leaned against the wall. "So is he umm," she chose her words carefully. "Does he…live here?"

Ashley looked up. "Oh yes, we moved here a few weeks ago. It was…all we could afford."

"I see," Snow folded her hands together and rested them against her skirt, trying to remember what she knew and had heard of these people as Mary Margaret. "Is he—"

"He used to live with his father," Ashley interrupted, her voice suddenly guarded and tense, "up on Mifflin Street."

"Mifflin st—"

"With all the mansions, yes. Where the mayor lives," she said curtly then seemed to realize she was snapping. She looked up at Mary Margaret's kindhearted gaze and softened. "I'm sorry," she muttered.

Snow shook her head, "No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"It's just that," the girl seemed unable to help herself. "He works so hard."

"Sean?"

"Yes. Mr. Collodi hired him part time at the auto shop, and he's working nights now at Garcon's."

Snow nodded, listening intently. Garcon's was a bar down at the edge of town. Folks in Storybrooke who couldn't afford the comforts and atmosphere of Granny's…well…those folks went to Garcon's.

"I don't know…" Ashley stammered, rising up out of the chair again as she began to pace. "I don't know what you may have heard about…about him—"

"Oh Ashley, I promise you, I'm not here to—"

"We weren't…together the whole time," she continued, the words flowing from her as if she had never had a soul to talk to before in her life, "He left— well…we split up when I got pregnant."

Snow closed her eyes. It was bad enough that the contract with Rumpelstiltskin had taken Thomas away against his will. But to be brought into the curse unmarried, 8 months along, having been intentionally abandoned by Thomas's Storybrooke alter ego…Snow's hands curled tightly, fisting together bunches of her skirt. It was as if the queen had exerted an especial degree of malevolence toward her old friend.

"But when Alex was born," Ashley had moved to the basinet now, peering over its edge at her sleeping daughter, "he came back. He walked into my hospital room and told me that…that he'd never leave me again."

Snow joined her across the room. "He's one lucky man, Ashley," she said, resting her hand on Ella's shoulder. It was a risky gesture, she knew. But against all odds, the two women had fallen right into their old routine of shared confidences. So Snow decided that if she continued to act just as she had in their world, then perhaps it would bring 'Ashley' closer to remembering Ella in this one.

Ashley shook her head. "I'm not so sure. He's done everything right by us. He takes care of me and he loves her," she said, her gaze still fixed upon her baby girl. A tear trickled down her cheek and she turned toward her guest. "He's so good, Miss Blanchard," she sniffled, wiping her nose on her sleeve. "But it's not good enough…not for him."

"Him?"

"Sean's father."

"Oh," Snow whispered with a frown.

"When Sean told him he was going to…going to take care of me, Mr. Herman kicked him out of the house and cut him off entirely. Sean had to drop out of school because of me."

"Ashley—"

"And a few days after we moved here, he came to see me at Granny's and…and yelled at me for ruining his son's future."

Incredulous, Snow's brow creased. That certainly didn't sound like Thomas's father. King Christopher had prattled on for hours at the wedding breakfast about how thrilled he was to welcome Ella to the family, how much he looked forward to having grandchildren running amuck in the palace.

"Sean's stuck in this town because of me," Ashley finished, tears spilling freely now as she wrapped her arms around herself and resisted the heavy sobs that were sure to follow.

"Ashley you can't think that way."

"It's true—"

"No it's not," Snow said firmly, standing in front of her. How much she wanted to explain. How she longed to tell Ella what she knew – that it wasn't Ella keeping them here at all. That it had nothing to do with her or Sean or Mr. Herman. That it was the queen. "Sean loves you and he loves your daughter," she said. "And true love doesn't come easy in this town. Believe me."

The tone in Mary Margaret's voice startled her, and Ashley looked up to see a little of her own sadness reflected in the eyes of her new friend. "I know, but—"

"No. No but's. Just look at this beautiful girl." Snow put her arms around Ella's shoulders as they both looked down at Alex. Forcing the longing out of her own voice, Snow remained strong for her friend. "And she's yours. Both of yours. What more could Sean want?" The conviction in her voice was unshakable for Snow knew she spoke the truth. Ella had been everything to Thomas; there wasn't a doubt in her mind that the same was true for 'Sean'.

Ashley let out a weak laugh and brushed the remaining tears from her face, shaking her head. "I know. And I love him so much. I just wish…" she turned to face her. "I wish his father could accept it. Could accept his decision. Sean used to talk to me about him all the time. The two of them were so close…especially after his mother died. He had all these dreams for him. Sending him to school, taking over the company…and then…and then I came along and…" she trailed off, knowing she need go no further.

Snow shook her head, the pieces of this incredibly complex puzzle continuing to fall into place as she decoded the information Ella had just unknowingly provided her. No wonder Sean and Ashley had not woken from the curse at the hospital. Ella's happy ending hadn't just been about finding Thomas. It had been about finding family. Their union had been a celebration of joy and bliss in King Christopher's court. But in Mr. Hernan's household, it had been the catalyst for disharmony, strain and separation. Ella had found happiness with Thomas not only in being loved as a wife…but as a daughter. Without that, she and Thomas were still stuck: reunited with each other, but forever grieving the loss of a father's love and support.

She looked down again at the sleeping girl, and while she ached for the feel of her own baby in her own arms, she resolved in that instant that this child would have a different fate. Emma had grown up in this harsh, cruel place. Alexandra…would not. "Ashley?" she said, and the force of her newfound resolution startled them both. Snow turned to Ella and placed her hands on her shoulders. "We are going to fix this."

Ashley blinked and stared up at her curiously. "W-what?"

"We're going to fix this," she repeated and practically stalked back over to the kitchen and set about the simple task of finishing dinner. "I'm going to finish this spaghetti, we're going to eat," she added with a smirk that caused Ella to giggle, "and then we're going to figure this thing out."

"Miss Blanchard—"

"Mary Margaret," she insisted, pulling the tall pot from the stove and pouring searing hot noodles into the colander in the sink. "Come on sit down. All these heavy burdens you've been carrying on your shoulders are wearing you down."

Ashley was about to object, but instead she laughed, giving in to Mary Margaret's infectious optimism. With a grin, she looked down at her still swollen belly. "Yeah, well the weight of it burns more calories."

Snow laughed and it was a joy to hear her being clever again. Ella always did have quite a wry sense of humor for one who had been so perpetually innocent. "Will Sean be home soon? Should we set a place?"

"You really don't have to do this. Honestly I—"

"I know, but I want to."

"Why though?" The reality of their random meeting seemed to have finally dawned on Ashley and she shook her head. "I mean, really…why does all this matter to you? We're practically strangers."

Snow sighed, reaching for the sauce with a hot pad. "Because…" she said softly, "…because your story touched me." Ella looked confused but allowed her to continue as she sat on a small stool near the kitchen archway. Snow took a deep breath. "Emma Swan," she said, and Ella started at the name. "You met a few weeks ago right?"

"Yes! She showed up out of nowhere. She helped me escape—" but Ashley caught herself. "She helped me get to the hospital."

"That's right. Well she's my…new roommate. And she told me what you did. She told me how you took charge of your life and fought to keep your baby. And I was…I was incredibly moved." Snow was walking a dangerous line, she knew, even coming here. And she wasn't entirely sure she was articulating herself very well. Ella looked touched, but no less confused, and Snow still struggled to find the right words. She was about to give up all together…and then she gasped. Of course. It was obvious! The words she needed were right in front of her. And she knew they were the right words…for she had spoken them before.

Setting down the utensils she was using, Snow leveled her gaze at her friend. "Do you have any idea what an inspiration you are?" Ella drew back and a small glimmer twinkled in her eye. Snow smiled, glancing at the sleeping baby across the room. "Your child, your reunion with T—Sean…is proof that anyone…can change her life."

Ashley gasped, amazed and…slightly perplexed by such heartfelt and familiar sounding praise.

Snow patted her hand and finished. "I'm proud of you."

Ashley leaned forward. Her gaze on Mary Margaret was intense, focused, and she was overwhelmed by an incredible sense déjà vu. This woman before her…whomever she was…all at once, Ashley knew she could trust her. "I'm…sorry," she started warily, "are you sure we haven't met before?"

Hope swelled in Snow's heart, but she remained calm. It was a small sort of victory. After all, the woman still believed herself to be Ashley. But that tiny instant of recognition proved they were not far from another happy ending in Storybrooke. Maintaining her composure, she smiled and resumed her dinner-making. "A few times at Granny's, that's all."

Ashley shook her head and sat back down. "Strange," she muttered.

"I agree," Snow said with a laugh as she mixed the sauce into the pan and readied a few plates. "Can't really explain it myself, but we've got way too much else to worry about now. Let's figure out how to get that girl's grandfather back into her life."

And with that, the two women set themselves down to a hearty meal, forming and re-forming bonds long lost…but never forgotten.

…

A long while later, Snow left the tiny home on Barbarac Lane with a full stomach and a strong constitution. Every time they inched another step closer to restoring their realm, she felt a little bit more like the old Snow White. The self-doubt and reticence that had so long plagued Mary Margaret was all but gone in the wake of her husband's love and her now renewed friendship with Ella. This was going to work. Whatever else the queen had in motion, whomever else the witch had conscripted to help enact the curse, it mattered not to Snow. For in that moment, she was reminded of her last words to the queen before they were whisked away to Storybrooke. You're going to lose. I know that now. Good will always win.

Still smiling, she pulled out her keys and moved to open her car door. She was about to climb in when something in the distance caught her eye. It was dark in this part of town, hardly lit up like the houses surrounding the square, but she could still make out the vague shape of a man, slinking along the street. The pavement was luminous, casting an almost fantastical glow on the scene as it reflected the moon's rays in its freshly rained-on puddles. Cautiously, she emerged from behind the driver's side door and strained to get a closer look. The man was coming toward her now, but Snow did not move, for there was something familiar in this man's gait. Something she had seen…no…heard before. The rapid pattering of boots to gravel echoed in her head, and she gasped as he emerged like a wolf from the shadows and was suddenly right in front of her.

"Graham!" she gaped at the sight of him. His hair was wilder than usual and his normally kempt appearance looked disheveled and rumpled like he had been running all night. "Graham what happened?"

But the old sheriff just continued to pant, his eyes darting back and forth as if searching for something. "Did you see it?" he said at last, his voice desperate.

"See what?"

"The wolf!" he cried. He whipped his head around in all directions, never really looking at Snow.

Snow swallowed hard, reaching for him, trying to steady his wild and flailing arms. "Graham, look at me. Look at me! What happened?"

Graham wrenched his gaze from the streets around them and finally did look at her. But his reaction startled them both. For Graham gripped her shoulders tightly, running his eyes up and down her image. "You," he whispered, though his tone was severe.

Snow let out another gasp. What was this? Why was Graham looking for a wolf? Why was he staring at her like that? Why—

She slapped her hand over her mouth and shrieked. Was he…remembering? "Easy," she tried to sooth him. "Calm down, just," she forced herself to take a deep breath for him, "calm down. Start from the beginning. What…happened."

But Graham shook his head, releasing her shoulders and staggering back. "I'm sorry…M-mary Margaret I…I don't know what…" still catching his breath, he ran his hands through his straggly hair and seemed about to continue when something else caught his eye. He looked past her, his eyes fusing to his target.

The glare was so intense that Snow too looked over her shoulder…and cried out at what she saw. A wolf. Just as she remembered him. One red eye…one grey. The huntsman's wolf. "Graham," she whispered, and she turned back to the man who once spared her life…but he was gone.

***Okay…so mild apologies here because I got the new Zelda game for Christmas, so my attention has been a bit…uh…divided! But I finally got this chapter finished and polished. As always, thanks so much for the reviews, favs and alerts. Without your support, this story wouldn't even be happening, so you all owe yourselves some props!

Coming up, James braces himself for a rather interesting dinner, more of Henry and his grandparents, and Snow and Emma discuss Graham. Also, coming soon (but not too soon) a much anticipated discussion between James and Emma. Hope you continue to enjoy!

Happy End-of-2011!***