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
The Luckiest Girl in the World
"Belle!" he cried, wrenching his wrists from the doctor's cruel grasp. "Belle! My love!" he shouted again while she looked on in horror. She should run. She should take her book and flee this maddening scene, but she couldn't. She was rooted to the ground. "Belle!"
"What are you doing in here?"
"Who are you?"
"Get her out of here!"
"How did you get in?"
"She's disturbing the patient!"
"Belle!"—
And then all of sudden—he was before her, free of restraint and standing tall. He seemed to tower over her – the height of a giant. His piercing blue eyes bore into her soul holding her captive. How had he freed himself? What happened to the black straps that had tied him down? Where were all the doctors?
The hospital room seemed to dissolve away as he stepped forward, closing the gap between them, and she knew she should be afraid. The man was insane – literally. But what she felt…was not fear. "Belle," he whispered, his voice free of agitation. She gulped hard, willing herself to turn from him, but she was hopelessly stuck, her heart beating wildly as he drew the tip of one finger from her temple down the side of her cheek, his touch so light, so gentle, yet it seemed to sear her skin. She was panting now – taking in short breathless gulps as his finger reached her chin and tilted her head back to meet his gaze. He was so enormous she had to practically stare at the ceiling to look in his eyes: two deep pools of starlight that captured and held her in this unbelievable trance. His hand closed around her neck, warm and posessive, before sliding down to the hollow at her throat where he stroked his thumb along her collar bone. "Belle," his voice soaked into her soul as his arm encircled her waist and she felt herself carried upward.
Without knowing how she got there, she was lying on her back now, pressed into a golden mattress with folds of soft duvet pillowing up beneath her. "Don't be afraid" he whispered to her, his breath hot against her cheek as he settled next to her, sliding one hand across her belly, the other draped around her head as he amorously stroked the long brown curls right at her temple.
"I'm not," she heard herself say, though she hardly knew why. It was as if she was in a play…and she knew that was her line. Slowly, her hand trembling, she reached up and tunneled her fingers through his own dusty blonde locks, marveling at how soft, how fine they were. Her hand settled at his cheek and she looked back into his eyes. He grinned…a devastating, gorgeous grin. A grin she knew…and she melted against him, pressing herself into the curves of his body as he withdrew her hand from his face and lifted it to his mouth. Heat pulsed through her as she lay transfixed by his smoldering gaze while he kissed the tips of her fingers with torturous leisure.
Her whole body quivered with excitement, though in her mind she had become a stranger to herself. Who was this man? Why was she allowing him to—oh…oh merciful heavens…
With agonizing tenderness, he'd laid her arm down at her side and settled his hand at her shoulder, his palm just barely grazing where her neckline met skin. How in the world had she come to be donned in nothing but a white satin night dress? And why in God's name was she allowing him to…slowly…peel it…down…her shoulder…
He stopped just short of too far and continued to trail his hand down the length of her arm, smoothing his palm over her waist and then shaping it up the side of her ribcage, pausing beneath the swell of her breast. Forget about breathing; she could barely move, and it was all she could do not to completely come apart as he darted his head down and sealed her mouth with his. A tiny whimper escaped her as she arched into the kiss, seeking to claim him in turn as she slid her hands up and around his broad shoulders. His right arm slipped beneath her neck and cradled her to him while his other hand continued to caress her as he drank his fill, taking long swooning sips from her lips. She clutched him close, relishing in the sweet, low rumble that escaped his throat as she feathered the hair at the base of his neck. When at last he pulled away, she shivered in anticipation of what he'd do next—
And then she was standing again, cold and shaking…and back in the hospital room. Her body ached and mourned the sudden loss of his warmth and touch. She darted her eyes around in a panic. And then she saw him, lying once more on the hospital bed, moonlight shining through the barred windows. She tried to approach him, but every step she took seemed to move her farther away. "Hey!" she cried out, breaking into a sprint, trying desperately to reach him. Her shoes fell heavily on the cold tile and she stretched her arms forth, trying to clasp the metal rungs of the hospital cot. It seemed a hopeless endeavor and then—
She was right beside him, braced over the edge of the bed. He was still for only a moment, and then his hand shot up from his side and grasped her wrist. His eyes flew open…and once more, he repeated the name. "Belle!" he pleaded in terror. "Find me!"—
"Adam!" she cried out, lurching up from her father's cot. The name seemed to tear from her throat and she gasped for air, clutching the side railing near Mo's hand where she'd been resting. She'd been bent over in her chair, her head cradled in her arms atop the thin mattress. Glancing down now, she noticed the sweat stain on the sheets and frowned as she lifted a tissue from the dispenser on her papa's tray table and dabbed it dry.
"Goodness Miss French, are you all right?" she heard, and she started as her eyes fell on a shadowed figure in the doorway. She squinted, willing herself to focus through the hazy spots still flooding her vision.
"Dr. Stone?" she said at last as the little man walked into the room.
He chuckled affectionately as he moved passed her and grabbed the chain of the blinds. "That must have been some dream," he said. With one pull, the blades cracked open and sunlight spilled into the room.
Rose shrank from the light, still trying to adjust to the rather disorienting morning she seemed to be having. "Hmm?" she said as she rubbed her bleary eyes. She glanced at her father, who was still sound asleep, and then checked her watch. 10:30 already?
"That dream," Stone said again. "Must have been awfully intense."
Rose frowned again, "What dream?"
Dr. Stone pulled a stool up to the foot of the bed and sat himself down next to her. "You don't remember? You were calling someone's name over and over again."
"I was—I—" Rose plopped a hand on top of her head and fisted a large chunk of hair near her loose ponytail as she glanced around. "Huh?"
With a shrug, Dr. Stone shook his head. "No matter," he chuckled, laying a chart across his lap. "I thought you'd be hungry, so I took the liberty of stopping by the cafeteria." He reached into the pocket of his lab coat and pulled out a slightly smushed cheese danish wrapped in a paper napkin. "Of course, if you'd prefer the cherry, I'd be happy to—"
"Oh no," Rose said, hastily reaching forward and smiling gratefully. "No this is…perfect. Too kind of you, really." The sweet surgeon smiled, and Rose squeezed his wrist with one hand as she took the pastry in the other. "Thank you."
"My pleasure dear. I had a feeling when I arranged for late hours last night that you'd still be here in the morning," he winked, glancing down at Mo. "Our patients' most…dedicated loved ones always are."
Rose blushed slightly, but smiled again and nodded, looking back at her papa. It didn't surprise her one bit that he should be sleeping through this entire conversation. World War III could erupt at the corner drugstore just 200 feet from their house and Mo would snore soundly through the entire thing.
"I also thought you might like an update of your father's case," he said, flipping through the chart.
Rose straightened up in her chair and wiped a little leftover sleep-spittle from the corner of her mouth. She supposed she looked atrocious, but she suspected Dr. Stone wasn't the type to mind. As she scooted her chair forward, she felt her stomach churn a little bit. Deciding it was because she was nervous about the prognosis, she focused solely on the doctor. "How is he?"
Dr. Stone grinned broadly as he leaned back in his chair. "He's doing quite well, Miss French. Quite well indeed."
Tears stung her eyes as her soul flooded with relief (though the slight stomach ache remained) and Rose sank back with a sigh. "Really?"
He nodded. "Really. As long as we can rebalance the meds his general physician has him taking for the urinary issues and the heart problem, I see no reason why he can't go home today."
"Oh Doctor Stone, thank you so much," she leaned forward and threw her arms around his neck, ignoring how her stomach flip-flopped when she moved. Something I ate last night, probably, she thought as Dr. Stone chuckled his light-hearted laugh again and patted her back.
"No thanks necessary, my dear. Your father did all the work." He glanced down at his patient. "Got himself here, checked in, took it easy…the problem corrected itself with his rest and your patience."
At the word 'patience', Rose couldn't help but roll her eyes. After all, she'd been practically hysterical with Dr. Whale. But the doctor sensed her dubiousness and patted her hand. "I believe you're both going to be fine."
She sighed, covering his hand with her own, and smiled. "Thank you."
With one last squeeze, Dr. Stone rose once more and straightened out the lapels of his lab coat. "Well," he said turning from her as Rose reached for her father's hand. "I'll let you get back to Adam," he teased.
Rose's eyes flew up and she gasped, her mouth hanging open at Stone's seemingly harmless joke. "What?" she cried.
Stone jerked a little, unaware the remark would cause such uneasiness. "Adam," he said a little more warily. "The name you kept calling out when you were sleeping. I assumed it was a…a beau of some sort."
"No I—" but her breath caught in her throat as images came racing back. What are you doing in here? Her heart started thumping hard against her chest as the events of last few hours reclaimed her. Belle! My love…RUN! Rose screeched in pain as she clawed and pulled at fistfuls of her hair, her head pounding as her brain tried to sort out the visions. Which were real? What happened last night?
"Miss French!" Doctor Stone cried. "Miss French, are you all right?"
"Rose?" came her father's voice into the mix, who was startled awake by her screeching.
But the two men seemed miles away as more memories flooded her mind: Belle…don't be afraid… Belle… Belle… Find me!
"Rose!" Mo cried out, lunging forward in his bed as he tried to reach for his daughter. But Rose's eyes slammed shut and her stomach started doing summersaults. The nausea became unbearable when Dr. Stone grasped her arms and shook her by the shoulders, trying to snap her out of this disturbing fit.
Her eyes sprang open, glaring at Stone. Was it real? Was it imagined? The terror in the eyes of a man being wrangled by orderlies…the passion in the eyes of a man who wanted her. Needed her. Both seemed real: Memories she knew she'd lived. But how? He's a patient in the psych ward, she thought. He didn't even exist before today! He called her Belle! So why—how—what…As Stone finally punched the wall intercom for assistance, Rose hurled herself toward the bathroom…and threw up.
…
Though Granny never chided her for it, Ashley hated being late, and today was no exception as she extracted Alex from the car, slung the baby bag over her shoulder and kicked the door shut before heading into the diner. She was such a benevolent woman, Granny – tough as nails of course, but with a heart of gold. And with zero support from either of their families, Sean and Ashley had come to depend on Granny for far more than Ashley's income. On mornings when they both had to work, Granny not only allowed her to bring little Alex with her, but provided child care as well. The 'bed' part of 'Bed and Breakfast' had never gotten much business despite Granny's first-class hospitality. So the old bitty had converted one of the first floor guest rooms into a nursery of sorts, full of old toys, blankets, a dresser for Ashley to store spare changes of clothes, diapers and a place even for Ashley to sit and rest or nurse her daughter. Ashley suspected her overwhelming support had something to do with Granny's latent maternal instincts clearly wasted on Ruby. She had observed or overheard enough spats between grand-mother and daughter to know the resentment between the two was buried deep. Ashley liked to think that, in some way, being around Alex softened the old bat and might one day help to repair the scars between her and Ruby. It would be a nice way to repay the woman for so much patience and understanding.
"I'm so sorry, Marie," she called out, clumsily maneuvering the portable car seat, bag and purse through the heavy double doors of the diner. "The line at the drugstore was so long and it took forever to—"
"Don't worry your little head about it," said the woman as she stepped out from behind the counter and met her young charge at the door. Granny, pleasingly plump and cheery in her light brown cardigan and rose-colored corduroys, performed the well-practiced hand off like a pro, scooping Alex out of her seat and onto her shoulder while she hung the handle of the car seat on her arm.
"Thanks," Ashley rasped, out of breath and shaking her arm out from relief of the weight. She started moving toward the counter, heading for the row of wooden hooks on which were hung the aprons. "She's already been fed and—" Ashley stopped dead in her tracks as she caught sight of the party seated at the corner booth. Two women – both sitting straight and tall with a sort of imperial mien as they haughtily observed the rest of the patrons. On the right was Regina Mills, her sleek black hair coifed and bobbed gracefully at her shoulders, her hands delicately tracing the rim of her juice glass. Ashley couldn't help run her gaze down the mayor's elegant gray suit, perfectly tailored to her slim figure, legs crossed and tucked up close to the base of the booth with one red pump prominently displayed in the aisle. An embarrassed blush filled her cheeks as she stared down at her waitressing garb. Granny thankfully never made her wear those ruffled aprons and checkered blouses she saw in magazines or sitcoms, but it didn't change the fact that Regina's sleek and professional veneer was such an obvious contrast to Ashley's starchy white shirt dress, red belt and worn sneakers. Of course, Regina's regal presence wasn't the worst of it. For today, it appeared Storybrooke's head matriarch was lunching early this morning…with Ashley's stepmother.
"Ashley!" the latter woman called out as if she hadn't seen the girl in years and was simply bursting with affection. This alone put Ashley on the alert, for the woman had barely spoken a kind word to her in…well for as long as she could remember. They had been on friendly enough terms when her father was alive, and had remained at least civil for a few months following his death. But Ashley was not so easily fooled. This woman felt no warmth for her. Rodmilla Tremaine was a horrible, selfish creature. And it wasn't long after she'd gotten pregnant that she'd cast out on her own and severed all ties with her father's second wife.
"Rodmilla," she said warily, casting a sideways glance at Granny who'd thrown both women a contemptible glare (as if to say – "don't mess with my girl") and then offered Ashley a supportive nod.
"Come sit with us for a moment dear," said Rodmilla in a syrupy voice. "That is of course," she glanced at Granny with exaggerated consideration, "if your employer doesn't mind."
Marie rolled her eyes as she gestured for Ashley to place the baby bag in the empty car seat. "She can sit a minute…if she wants to," Granny said acerbically.
Ashley gave her a weak but grateful smile and watched as Alex's favorite surrogate aunt removed her to the back room. Left alone in a relatively empty diner save for a few regulars at the counter, Ashley took a deep breath, hung her coat next to her apron, and walked over to the booth.
Rodmilla slid over, lifting her brown leather gloves and fur scarf out of the way, indicating that she should sit. Ashley tugged her dress down self-consciously, trying to cover a tomato soup stain right above her thigh and settled into the booth. "How…" she cleared her throat. "How are you, Rodmilla?" she managed.
"Fine dear, just fine," Rodmilla leaned over and patted Ashley's hand.
She flinched, but politely chose not to pull it away. The last time they had spoken, her step mother had mercilessly teased her about the idiocy of getting "knocked-up" in this day and age and that if she knew what was good for her, she'd "get rid of the bastard before it ruined her girlish figure"…this certainly didn't track with fine dear, just fine.
"Regina here tells me that you have some wonderful news!"
Ashley's eyes darted up to the mayor who was glaring at her, though smiling.
"Yes," Regina confirmed. "Sean Herman told me last night that wedding bells are about to ring?"
There was something decidedly bizarre about this conversation, and Ashley couldn't shake the feeling that she was in some sort of strange, warped reality of Storybrooke. For her entire life, women of stature and status had cast an arrogant, judgmental eye over her poor existence. Why on earth were they demonstrating any interest now?
"Yyyes," she said cautiously. "I was actually going to come to your office tomorrow and make an appointment to—"
"Apply for a marriage license?" Regina smiled. "Consider it done. I will expect you and Sean by 1:00pm tomorrow?"
Ashley drew back. She had assured Sean just this morning that she didn't think Regina Mills so fickle as to allow her friendship with Mr. Herman to deter her from issuing a license…but she hadn't expected such eager anticipation. "Umm, 1pm. Sounds perfect. I'm sure Sean can get away from work for an hour."
"Sean Herman," Rodmilla clucked, cocking her head thoughtfully to one side. "I must admit Ashley, when you told me you were pregnant, I'd never dreamed the young man would do right by you and propose. If I had, I certainly wouldn't have behaved so awfully at the time."
Ashley leaned back, her eyes narrowing. So that was it. Same old Rodmilla. She'd heard Ashley had "snagged a rich boy" and was now worthy to be called step-daughter again. She was about to say as much when her breath caught in her throat and she started coughing.
"Oh!" Rodmilla exclaimed in unabashed horror. "Oh dear, I forgot." She hastily withdrew her hand and took a napkin from the wire holder against the wall. "You're quite allergic to my cat, aren't you," she said, dipping the napkin in her water glass and washing the stray furs from her sleeve and wrist.
As Ashley continued coughing and sniffling, Regina slid her juice glass forward. "Here, take a sip," she said soothingly.
Ashley's eyes started watering and got quite bleary as she gratefully lifted the glass to her lips and took a gulp. "Thank you," she said, clearing her throat as her symptoms calmed. The juice had a sweet, tangy aftertaste and she was fairly certain she'd never tasted anything in Granny's inventory this sweet. "What is it?"
Regina's lips curled into a winning smile. "Apple cider."
Ashley nodded and took another sip.
The two women watched her carefully, their eyes blazing like firelight as she downed the entire glass. When she was through, Rodmilla cleared her throat. "So I was just bragging to Regina what a lucky girl you turned out to be."
"Lucky?" Ashley looked up, puzzled and a bit annoyed as her step mother continued this absurd roleplaying. "Whadyou—" she started to say, but then grew a bit dizzy, images sort of tilting and swirling in front of her eyes.
"Miss Boyd, are you alright?" asked Regina in mock concern.
Ashley brought her hand to her forehead and squeezed her eyes shut. "Sorry," she mumbled. She shook out her blonde locks and sucked in a breath, looking up once more at the mayor. "Sudden headache."
"Well I can certainly understand that," Regina replied. "The strain you've both put yourself under."
Ashley swallowed hard, her head still spinning. "S-strain?"
"Well you know, supporting yourselves. Not being able to see each other very much during the day."
"We…we manage," Ashley said. What was wrong with her? We manage? Things were going great!
"And you're doing such a good job too," said Lady Tremaine. The women exchanged knowing looks as they watched their target shrink further into her seat. "What with you here and Sean working two jobs?"
"Yes," added Regina. "I saw him last night at Garcon's. Can you believe, Rodmilla," she looked to Tremaine, but kept a sideways glance on Ashley, "that he gave up that full ride to Fort Kent?"
Ashley jerked and shook her head, wondering if in the midst of her sudden headache that she had heard wrong. "Th-the what?"
Rodmilla audibly gasped. "Oh goodness, you mean you didn't know?" She feigned embarrassment. "It's all over the grapevine. I thought for sure he'd tell you…but then again he probably didn't want to burden you dear."
Ashley's eyes darted between them. "What are you talking about?"
Regina leaned forward and covered Ashley's hand atop the table. "Sean was awarded full tuition and room and board to the University of Maine at Fort Kent. Over $75,000 total each year for four years. Apparently, he was accepted into their business administration program in the fall…but surely you knew he'd dropped out, dear."
Ashley yanked her hand back, massaging her wrist as she shrank further into herself. "Well yeah, I knew he'd dropped out but I didn't—"
"Oh hush, Regina," Rodmilla playfully waved her off and patted Ashley's shoulder. "The point is, you must feel pretty special. He must love you very much to have given all of that up."
"Not to mention his father's love and inheritance," Regina put in, withdrawing her hand from the center of the table and toying with the teeth of her fork. "Why I heard old Mr. Herman is just impossible to deal with these days."
"And why wouldn't he be? I mean after all the trouble he went through to secure that future for Sean?"
"Stop it," Ashley whispered, trying to will her voice to be stronger. But it came out mousy and uncertain. A full ride? Seventy-five thousand dollars? Why hadn't he told her? Her mind continued to spin as she got dizzier and dizzier.
"Yes, but what is all that, Rodmilla, to true love? I don't think Sean has regretted it for a moment. Do you dear?"
Though Ashley was now growing queasy (what in the world did Granny put in her apple juice!) she could still detect the toxic sneer in the mayor's voice. "N-no," she stammered, cradling her forehead in her palm. "No he hasn't." But her voice had lost all conviction. She was panting now, flushed and feverish, as she wiped a bead of sweat trickling down her brow. Unable to stand it any longer, she planted her palms on the table and moved to push herself out of the booth, when her stepmother's hand shot out and clamped down on her wrist. "Well, there you have it Regina. True love really does conquer all. I do believe…this is the luckiest girl in the world."
Ashley shrank back from her stepmother, unable to utter even the tiniest squeak in reply as she stumbled out of the booth and back to the counter. She had known Sean applied to Fort Kent. She'd even taken him out to celebrate when he got his acceptance letter. But…a full ride? No wonder his father had barged into Granny's that day, soundly reprimanding her for "ruining his life." What an opportunity he'd had – gone to waste…because of her—
"Ashley?" she heard Granny's voice, but she couldn't pick her head up. She merely stood there, gripping the edge of the counter in short, wheezing breaths.
Can you believe that he gave up that full ride to Fort Kent…
"Ashley"…
How can you do this to him? How can you let him ruin his life like this…
"Ashley?"…
Why I heard old Mr. Herman is just impossible to deal with these days…
"Ashley!" her boss was nearly shouting now, but it wasn't actually Granny who snapped her out of it. It was the cry of her daughter that wrenched her gaze from the faded counter stool to where Marie stood holding Alex. She was squirming in the old woman's arms, her face streaked with tears. Soon it turned into that labored, silent wail that so often freaked Ashley out – the one where Alex's mouth hung open, her little face turned beat red and twisted in anguish, but no actual sound came out because the girl forgot to breathe. Ashley rushed behind the counter just as her daughter finally took a huge gulp of air and resumed her crying like normal. "I don't know what happened," said Marie as she transferred the baby to her mother's arms. "She went down without a fuss and was giggling and smiling when she just…started crying—" Marie stopped, noting the tears in Ashley's own eyes. She darted a glare over at the women in her far booth and bristled. "Ash," she seethed through gritted teeth, "what did they say to you?"
"It doesn't matter," Ashley moaned quietly as she held Alex close, bouncing her up and down on her shoulder.
Granny grabbed her arm and squeezed tightly. "The hell it doesn't—"
"No, Gran…really, it's not them. It's—" but she froze, realizing suddenly as she looked down at her daughter, that the crying had completely stopped…Alex was asleep. Gently, and a little in awe, she shifted her hold into a cradle and gazed down at her little girl. It was as if Alex knew her mother was in pain, as if she felt it herself and needed to be close. For now, curled into her mom's safe embrace, there was not a trace of stress or sadness on her perfect little face. Her beautiful, tiny face…
You think I've been unhappy…but I promise you, I'm not…
Alex was cooing softly, and Ashley reached her free hand up and tenderly stroked her baby-soft cheek…
Look at me…I'm not going anywhere…
Alex's hands curled into miniature fists, and she raised her little arms in an adorable stretch as she yawned and then clasped her tiny fingers around Ashley's thumb…
You practically gave birth in Deputy Swan's car!...You can do anything…
Visions of Sean continued to envelop her, chasing away doubts and fears, as she gazed at her daughter. Their daughter. And soon, the dizzying effects of…well, whatever that was, were gone. With a strange and wonderful feeling of triumph, she whirled around and glared at the two women who were chatting away, no doubt congratulating themselves on a well-executed humiliation. "Marie?" she said, her strong voice clear as a bell. Granny's eyes bugged out, startled by her waitress's sudden transformation. And then Ashley grinned. "Gimme their check."
Granny beamed at her, thrilled that this self-conscious fit had vanished and been replaced with that same bit of gumption she'd been seeing in Ashley of late. Without a word, she let Ashley transfer the now sleeping Alex back into her arms as she reached in her apron and pulled out an order pad.
Ashley took it, nodded thank you, and stalked back over to the table where she tore the ladies' check from the pad and slammed it down in front of them.
Regina actually jumped a bit, and Rodmilla looked up, startled. Both women were clearly surprised to see the girl back at their table, but Rodmilla didn't miss a beat. Her lips curled into a sweet smile as she slid the receipt to her side. "Why thank you dear," she cooed.
"Oh stop it," Ashley snapped, and this time, Rodmilla jerked. "I'm not dear to you, I never have been. And I don't know why, after how horrible you were to me for my entire life, you thought I'd fall for this."
"Ashley, we—"
"Quiet!" she barked at Regina as she planted a hand on the edge of the tabletop and leaned in. "I won't stand here and be made to feel guilty for the choices I've made. For the life I've made for myself…not by you, not by anyone."
Regina opened her mouth again to object, but Ashley would hear none of it, and the two vixens were so shocked by the transformation, they were quite silenced by the waitress's icy stare. "I will say this though," she straightened back up and smiled. "You were right about one thing…I am the luckiest girl in the world." She glanced up at the heavens, a vision of Sean kneeling before her in her mind. "The man that I love…the father of my child…wants to marry me and raise our daughter together." Thoughts of him warmed her as the words spilled from her mouth. With a triumphant laugh, she glanced back down at them and finished, "I can't think of anything more wonderful than that. Can you?" Her step mother's mouth hung open like a dead fish and Regina simply fumed. The stunned looks on their faces thrilled her as they gaped angrily. Ashley stepped back and adopted an overly formal, professional veneer. "Thank you for dining with us today, ladies. Please pay at the counter!" And feeling about nine feet tall, Ashley spun on her heel and marched away.
…
Emma glanced down at her phone for the fourth time in the last two minutes, staring at the blank screen that read NO MESSAGES and briefly, she wondered what bothered her more: the fact that she hadn't gotten anything from Mary Margaret all afternoon…or the fact that she so desperately wanted to. As much as she preferred to just sit in the station house and seethe on behalf of the Zimmers, it was Mary's face rather than the children's that continued to haunt her. What she'd said last night and again this morning had been the truth. But it didn't erase the hurt she'd seen in the eyes of her roommate.
The desk rattled as the phone vibrated, and Emma lunged forward in her chair.
ABOUT HALFWAY THERE it read…and it was from Graham. Emma sighed, thumbed back THX and set the phone down again. She had asked Graham to send her a few updates, particularly when he arrived at each home. Though she had no hope, she wanted Graham to give an accurate review of the conditions of the home. If something seemed even the slightest bit off, Emma wanted to know.
With another fruitless glance at her phone, Emma swiveled in her chair and revived the office computer from sleep mode. It was Sunday, so technically the sheriff's office could run off the remote message service, alerting both her and Graham if anything serious required their attention. But Emma couldn't go home. Not now. Not yet. Why had she gotten so vicious? How could she have lashed out like that at a woman so wholly without fault for the whole situation? And however right Emma's hunch might yet be about David, that was certainly not the right way to broach the subject. If that helps you sleep at night, be my guest! Emma shivered with disgust.
She had intended to bring it up casually, perhaps over a night of popcorn and wine at the kitchen island. David's appearance at the pawn shop not 15 minutes after she'd left Mary's house had been no coincidence. His apparent need to play hero, his interest in Henry—these were still mysteries to Emma, but there was definitely some communication still being had between him and Mary Margaret. Emma had warned her roommate once before about getting involved with a married man. She didn't want to see her new friend get hurt. But bringing it up in the midst of her anger over Michael Tillman? She'd had no idea how…poisonous she could be.
With a sudden need for forgiveness, Emma swiped her phone, flipped it open and started typing. But before she could send anything, the glass doors whooshed open and in walked Henry.
"Hey Emma!" he said brightly, his backpack bouncing up and down behind his shoulders as he cantered toward her. Emma snapped her phone shut without finishing her message and turned to face him. "I was on my way to Miss Blanchard's when I saw your car outside. Why you working today?"
Emma cleared a lump in her throat, realizing that when last she saw Henry, she was dropping him off home and then going to bring Ava and Nicolas to meet their father. "I uh…I just needed to get out of the house for a while."
Henry stared up at her, confused for a moment, then shrugged. "Well," he said, sliding his book bag onto one arm and unzipping the pouch, "I was comin' to see if you wanted to go over and visit Ava and Nicolas. I promised Nick I'd show 'im my Captain America comics." He pulled a thick stack of comic books from his bag and proudly showed off his collection.
"Uh Henry—"
But the boy suddenly took a step back and pondered for a moment, a pensive frown across his face. "Unless you think maybe they need time with just their dad," he said considerately.
"Listen—"
"Although," Henry brightened on the other hand, "maybe Michael Tillman'll be glad for the extra help!"
"Henry!" Emma implored, her heart breaking for what she knew she must reveal. Her son finally quieted, glancing up at her with blank innocence. "Sit down, Kid," she said with a sigh, pushing herself off her chair and gesturing for him to take her seat. "There's something I gotta tell you."
…
Rose paced up and down the exam room, arms wrapped around her waist as she sighed impatiently, waiting for Dr. Stone to return. Honestly, all this fuss over nothing, she told herself – though a small part of her knew it wasn't nothing. After all, since recalling that terrifying episode in the psych ward…and remembering her dream…she'd been simply unnerved by the whole ordeal and wanted nothing more than to check her father out and leave this dreaded hospital for good. Everything – her queasiness, her head aches, the strange magnetic pull she still felt mysteriously keeping her here – everything would go away if she could just leave.
It was practically noon before Dr. Stone finally pulled the curtain open, a clipboard of results tucked under his arm. Following the incident in Mo's room, Stone had insisted on running a few tests, just to be sure it wasn't anything more than stress over her father's illness.
"Oh, Dr. Stone," she gasped with relief. "Finally." She was so anxious to get out of this blasted place that she barely noticed the tense discomfort in the kind doctor's eyes. Scurrying about the exam room, Rose slung her purse over her shoulder and draped her coat over her arm. "So am I all checked out? Everything ok?"
Dr. Stone peeked down at the test results in hand and adjusted his glasses. "Miss French—"
"It's Rose…please," she said, offering him a small smile…and still seemingly oblivious to his nervous exterior.
Stone paused, and then gave her a weak smile. "Rose," he conceded. "I think you should sit down."
Finally, Rose seemed to register the tightness in the doctor's tone – a voice she'd come to know quite well in the last 12 hours and had come to depend on for comfort and reassurance. That there was neither in his voice now chilled her like a bucket of ice water down her spine. "What is it?" she cried. "Has something happened? Did my father—"
"It's not your father," Stone answered sharply, and with a bit more authority, beckoned her into the chair. "It's you."
Rose stumbled back into the chair, folding her coat over her lap and letting her purse dangle down at her ankles. She felt herself going numb as the doctor rolled a stool up beside her. "Wh-what is it?" she asked, wringing her hands together.
Stone opened his mouth to speak, then snapped it shut, wondering how in the world general physicians did this kind of thing every day. His interaction with Rose French and her father was not typical of Tobias Stone's normal routine. He was a surgeon. When he worked on his patients, they were typically unconscious, and the nurses handled much of the pre and post-op care. For as long as he could remember, Tobias had preferred the life of a surgeon. Too much interaction on a personal level made it difficult for him to do his job. But something about Rose and Mo…and their friend Mary Margaret had sparked something Tobias hadn't felt…well, ever. As bizarre as it seemed, these people…felt like family. "Rose, forgive me for asking but…do you have…someone in your life?"
Rose drew back from him, her brow furrowed in utter bewilderment. "What has that got to do—"
"I know it's a rather forward question, but…that gentleman who was here with you for a little while last night," he remembered, for when he'd returned to say goodnight for the evening, he'd noted the man sitting in the corner flipping through a magazine. The brute didn't seem too interested in the final update on Mo, but he'd noticed the man's shoulders tense when Stone had placed a comforting hand on the young woman's shoulder. "Is he…well, I suppose it's not really my business," he decided, glancing back down at his clipboard. Just keep it about the diagnosis. Keep it professional, he thought.
"Doctor I don't—I mean what does that…" Rose glanced down too and saw that the poor doc's hands were trembling as he handled her results. "Doctor Stone," she wheezed as she felt that nausea creep back into her belly. "Am I…am I sick?"
Stone shook his head at once, glancing up and patting her hand reflexively. "No my dear. No not at all."
"Then what—"
"There's just no…easy way to…" he sighed, withdrawing his hand and removing his glasses.
Rose frowned. Beneath his spectacles, the little man looked old…tired. "Please," she said, her voice trembling. "What is it?"
Looking up once more, Stone replaced his glasses, caving to the inevitable. "Rose…you're pregnant."
…
"What do you mean there's no point?" Henry cried, slapping his palm against Emma's desk. They'd been arguing for ten minutes on whether or not to actually call the children homes in Boston. Privately, Emma was kicking herself for not thinking to do that 24 hours ago, but realistically she knew her son was just not handling the news well.
"Because, Henry," she said. "It's Sunday. No one from administration would be there to take a call." A lame excuse, she knew. Truthfully, there was probably a way to reach the headmistress of the girls' place. But Graham was already halfway there and planned to text her as soon as he checked Ava in.
"I can't believe you're just gonna give up!" Henry shouted, his face twisted up in fury. He loved his mom, but honestly…she could be so…so…stupid sometimes!
"Hey!" Emma countered, feeling more like she was fighting with a sibling than a son. "I'm not the one who gave up, ok? Michael Tillman gave up. Don't forget that. He's the one who left town."
"Ghrrrmmmgah!" Henry let out an exasperated grunt and thunked his forehead on the desktop. "No. One. Ever. Leaves. This. Town!" he groaned into the pile of paperwork, beating his fists against the desk on every word. He felt like a broken record. How could she be so blind? As was the case with most children, it was impossible for Henry to deal in anything but absolutes. And his steadfast devotion to the curse prevented him from even considering that maybe Michael Tillman had at least intended to leave, regardless of what may have happened to him afterwards when he'd tried. "How many times do I have to tell you that?" he moaned.
"Hey, calm down, Kid—" Emma said, wishing suddenly she'd held on to Michael's note. She knew it would be difficult for her son to learn how cruel this world really was, but she hadn't counted on him actually beating his head against the desk.
"Why are you being so…so you?" he whipped his head up again and glared at her. She started back as he continued. "Look, remember what happened to Ashley when she tried to leave? Car accident…and then she started having her baby!"
"That was coincidence, Henry. Trust me, there's been no car accident. Graham's been texting me all day."
"Right," he scoffed. "Cuz that can't be faked."
"Henry—"
"After everything you saw? The book? The compass? Prince Charming taking on Rumpelstiltskin?" At this, he popped up out of the chair, thrusting his fist in the air while his face lit up at the memory of seeing Pops in action last night, if only for a few minutes.
With all the patience she could muster, Emma closed her eyes and inhaled sharply through her nose. What was it like to have that active an imagination, she wondered absently. It was no small wonder the kid's brain didn't overload from the energy alone. "Look," she took another deep breath, "I know you wanna think the answer to everything is in Operation Cobra—"
"It is!" he urged.
"But sometimes the real world has to come first—"
"And what if they're the same?" he argued, stepping towards his mom like a soldier standing his ground. "You're the one who told me that youhave a superpower. Did you use it?"
Emma's eyes widened and she shook her head, reeling from the jarring question. "What?"
Henry crossed his arms and tapped his foot, cocking an eyebrow as he asked again. "On Michael Tillman. Did you use your superpower?"
She gulped, unable to look away from the kid's officious gaze. "Yyyes?"
"Well?" he continued. "Was he lying? Did he really not want his kids?"
Emma wondered if there came a time in every mother's life when she wished – just for a moment – that her kid wasn'tso smart. For Henry had zeroed in on exactly what had distressed her so much at Tillman's house in the first place. How could she have missed it? How did she get it all that wrong?
Henry watched anxiously as his mother sorted through his latest stroke of genius. He could tell the gears in her head were turning, and it was a good thing too…cuz Operation Cobra was getting to be exhausting. "Well?" he said, unable to suppress a grin.
It was tempting, Emma thought, staring into the hopeful eyes of her ten-year-old. Damn it was tempting. Playing a little more "Operation Cobra" sure beat sitting around the station all day fighting back tears and wallowing in grief. Besides, she thought mournfully, she already may have irrevocably damaged her relationship with Mary Margaret. She would not let her anger and self-pity destroy what she had with her son. Sighing in defeat, she pushed herself off the edge of the desk and held her hands up in surrender. "All right, Kid," she said. "Let's go take another look at that note."
…
"Well?" James said impatiently, drumming his fingers on the countertop.
Thomas stared up at the ceiling while his eyebrows darted down, trying unsuccessfully to ignore his friend's irritation at how long it was taking for the internet to boot up. "It's still repairing the connection," he said sharply.
James huffed, crossing his arms. "Didn't Marco check the inbox this morning with no problems? I thought you said this internet thing was supposed to be fast."
"It is," Thomas held his hands up and shrugged. "Just…not when your router is a piece of—"
"Sean?" they heard suddenly and both princes jumped to their feet from their stools. They'd been staring over one another's shoulders for the last half hour trying to coax Marco's slower-than-molasses internet explorer to find any information about foster care in Boston. With Marco there all day, it was difficult for the two of them to display much more than detached sympathy for Michael Tillman's alleged out-of-town emergency. Once he'd left for the day, the two of them theorized rapidly on what or who might have truly been responsible. James had a meeting with Snow tonight, and if at all possible, he wanted to provide her with some information she could take back to their daughter. It might not be much, but it was tearing James apart knowing that Emma was out there somewhere, probably heartbroken at the thought of two orphans being abandoned by their father…especially (he'd been unable to avoid noting) with her own troubled past.
"Ashley!" Sean said in surprise as Ella walked towards them. He checked his watch. "What're you doing here? Where's Alex?"
Ashley marched straight up to the counter as Sean came around to meet her. "With Granny," she said with a curt nod. "And my shift's not over quite yet, but I need to talk to you."
Thomas's eyebrows flew up and he glanced at James – who was rather annoyingly suppressing a smirk. This certainly wasn't the mousy blonde Snow had described (a sight James was quite delighted to see). Still, the young princess looked quite perturbed…and James couldn't help but snigger at the younger prince who looked more the part of boy-in-trouble than young-man-in-love.
"Ok?" Thomas treaded carefully. Ella at that moment seemed to notice James for the first time, for she retreated back a bit, blushing as she adjusted the strap of her purse. "Oh sorry," Thomas placed his hand on Ella's shoulder and guided her a step toward the counter. "Ash, this is David Nolan. Marco hired him yesterday. David? My fiancée, Ashley."
James gave the girl a warm, genuine smile, surprised by just how good it was to see her…to see them together. "Hi Ashley," he said, making a slight bow.
Something in the man's smile seemed…familiar to her. And for a moment, she stared at him wonderingly, trying to think on where she'd seen him before. "Nice…to meet you," she said warily, peering into his crystal blue eyes. Surely she'd not forget a face like that. Then it hit her, and realization dawned. "Oh!" she exclaimed, a brightness in her eyes as she pointed at him. "I read about you in the paper didn't I?"
James sighed heavily, careful not to roll his eyes. "Yeah," he nodded, ignoring Thomas's coughing chuckle. "Yeah, that was me."
Ashley sensed the unintended faux pas and blushed again. "Sorry," she said. "You probably hear that a lot."
But James shook his head and waved her off. "Don't give it another thought," he said and smiled again.
She nodded. "How are you feeling?"
"Better," he said with a grin. "Much better now that I have your charming fiancée here to work with."
At that moment, Ashley turned sharply back to Sean and cocked an eyebrow. "Oh yes," she said sweetly, though there was a little bite to her tone. "He's quite charming." She turned her attention fully on her beau. "I need to talk to you," she mumbled and moved past him toward the fix-it bench at the far end of the shop.
Thomas watched a little dumfounded as Ella walked by.
"One of these days—" James muttered; Thomas turned— "I'm gonna meet someone in Storybrooke who hasn't seen me in the paper."
Thomas snorted, "Can you blame 'em?" he muttered back. "28 years and there's only been onestory—"
"Sean!"
"Coming!" Thomas jumped again and dismissed James's continued chuckling as he went to face the music. "What is it?" he asked when he reached her. "Is something wrong?"
Ashley's hands settled at her waist as she rested her weight on one hip. "Is it true you gave up a full ride to Fort Kent?"
Thomas's eyes flew wide open. "What?"
"Is it?"
"Who told you that?" he spluttered.
"Is that a yes?"
"Well it's—" he brought his hand up and rubbed the back of his neck, his brow furrowed. "It's not a no—"
"A full ride Sean?" Ashley countered, crossing her arms. "If it's true, what is it matter who told me?"
"Ashley—"
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Honestly?" Thomas stammered as he struggled to recall memories he hadn't cared or thought about in weeks. "It…slipped my mind."
Ashley let out a sort of half-laugh half-scoff as she brought the heels of her palms up to her temples and shook her head. "Seventy-five thousand dollars, Sean. Seventy-five thousand, tuition and board…for four years! How could you let that 'slip your mind'?"
"It wasn't important—"
"Wa-ah-asn't important?" she gasped in disbelief. "You had a slot in their business administration program—"
"I know but—"
"I would've supported you. We could've gone with you—"
"I know that—" Thomas tried to reach for her.
But she clutched tightly to her purse and gestured toward the front counter. "Seventy-five-thou—I mean, come on, Sean, do you want to be fixing cars the rest of your life?"
"Hey!" Thomas finally shouted, hoping to at least finish a sentence. "A man can't do much better for himself than to work for Marco Collodi."
The acknowledgment of Sean's boss, a man she so respected, tempered Ashley for a moment and she sank back on her heels. "I know but—"
"No listen," he clasped her hand before she had time to put her guard up again. "I'm. Happy. Here," he said, refusing to let her drop his gaze. "I told you that before. Did you believe me?"
"Yes," she conceded.
"Then believe me now. It wasn't important. Everything that's important to me is right here," he said, reaching out to gently touch the tip of her nose. "You," he whispered, cupping her cheek, "and Alexandra. And that's it. All that other stuff? Tuition? Room and board? Business degrees? That was all part of the life my father wanted me to lead." He paused and pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead, whispering against her temple. "A life that didn't include you."
Ashley glanced up at him, a thoughtful frown tugging at her mouth, but she didn't argue. She swallowed hard, closing her hand around his wrist as he looked down at her once more and caressed her cheek. "Are you absolutely sure you have no interest in Fort Kent?"
Thomas shook his head, slipping his free arm under hers and around her waist. "I'm sure."
She shifted his grasp, pulling both of his arms down around her waist and settling her hands at each elbow. "And you swear you won't wake up one morning wishing you'd taken the money? Gone to school?"
Thomas struggled to suppress a proud smile tickling his lips as he nodded. "I swear."
Ashley studied him a moment longer and then let out a satisfied sigh, though still maintaining a firmness in her hold as she gave his arms a squeeze. "Don't ever keep anything like that from me again, Sean Herman."
There was a healthy blush in her cheeks as she issued her reprimand, but Thomas also knew she was quite serious. A lesser man in his world might have taken offense to such admonishment from his bride, but Thomas was positively beaming. After weeks of seeing her cower and shrink from even the tamest of squabbles, he couldn't help but delight in the joy of seeing all the spirit and strength of his Ella gleaming through Ashley's eyes. "Yes ma'am," he whispered. And he meant it.
Swooning suddenly from the passion in his gaze, Ashley faltered on her footing a bit and stepped back. "Good," she nodded tersely, though she too was grinning. "Well, I should…I should get back to the diner."
She started to move past him, but at the last moment he grabbed her arm, yanked her back and caught her face in his hands as she stumbled back into his embrace. His mouth covered hers at once, warm and pliant, giving and taking, as she scrunched her fists in his teeshirt and pulled him in deeper.
They might have stayed locked in this embrace for days had Ashley not suddenly remembered that…well, they weren't alone. Completely mortified, she tore away from her fiancée and glanced up at the counter where David Nolan was focusing intensely on the computer monitor. "S-sorry," she stammered, her cheeks red-hot with embarrassment. But David was already shaking his head and chuckling, as was Sean who draped his arm casually around his fiancée's shoulder and pulled her into a comforting hug.
"Don't worry about it," James said, having really not seen much. He'd disappeared into Marco's office for a while and had only come out…well…at the very end. He hadn't heard much of anything either, but what he could see of the young woman's face continued to relieve his concerns about Thomas's bride. She was so much closer to Ella now than Ashley. He couldn't wait to tell Snow—Snow…
"Yeah, David's a big boy," Thomas teased as he walked Ella back over to the counter. He was about to make another quip at his friend's expense but noted the sudden regret in his eyes. "Hey," he softened. "You all right?"
James looked up from the monitor and beheld the couple so very much in love. It was a victory for the side of good in Storybrooke that Prince Thomas and his "Cinderella" were together again, and he wanted so much to simply be happy for his friend. But a modicum of envy couldn't help but creep its way into his mind. After all, though she was not technically awake and he wasn't technically married… Thomas and Ella would go home together.
"I'm fine," he said with a smile, looking up at the clock above Collodi's storefront windows as the orange sun began its decent toward the horizon line. He felt Thomas's hand on his shoulder and looked back to the prince who gave him a questioning glare. "Really," he assured his friend, rising from the stool and grabbing his coat from the counter behind them. "There's just…somewhere I need to be."
Thomas also looked to the clock and nodded, finally understanding. And he tightened his arms around Ella as he watched James walk out into the dusk…headed for the toll bridge.
…
*** OK! 9,000 words later, and we're finally at the scene that's been buzzing in my head for weeks. Whew! Hope you enjoyed this one (decidedly "lighter" than the last few chapters I think, though not without its drama, I grant you). I wanted to give a shout out to not only my regulars who have been with "Toll Bridge" from the start but to all the newcomers as well! So glad you're enjoying and fav-ing and alert-ing and reviewing! Hope to get another chapter out soon, though this is IT before Sunday.
Stay tuned! (Hey…does anyone ELSE think that August W. Booth is Pinocchio?)***