Immediately after she kissed him, something in her body could sense something was wrong. Those alarm bells of impending doom she'd so carefully cultivated over her lifetime were sounding and it took her a moment for her brain and body to sync up. It wasn't until she felt his body going slack, saw the panic on his face as he fell to the ground that she understood why those alarms were going off. The elated smile from mere moments ago quickly evaporated as she crumbled to the floor beside him, shouting his name, shaking him. Even then her body knew what her brain refused to accept just yet; no amount of shouting and shaking would wake him, he was dead.
"No, no, no!" She half shouted, half sobbed onto his chest. Rocking back and forth, she clung to him, tears streaming down her face before some modicum of sense returned to her and she fumbled for her phone in her back pocket. With shaky hands she dialed the direct line to the hospital, speaking to a cheery nurse and informing her of the tragedy.
While on the phone, she did as directed, checking his pulse–nothing, listening for breathing–nothing, all the while growing more and more distressed until eventually they told her the ambulance was on its way and should be there in a moment. Without another word, Emma simply let her phone fall to the floor and could vaguely hear the woman's voice saying a few more parting words before the line went dead.
Not five minutes later she could hear the sirens as they approached, could see the red and blue flashing lights stark against the dark night sky. Then a few first responders filed into the room, a gurney between them.
"Excuse me, Deputy Swan," one of them said as they approached, a hand placed gently on her shoulder. "I need to take a look at him, please," he said, gesturing for her to leave his side. For a moment she almost argued but her brain was finally beginning to function almost normally again and she knew he just needed to do his job. Wordlessly, she nodded, standing and stepping aside where she began to pace, arms crossed tight over her chest.
She was barely aware of the conversations going on around her as the first responders checked over Graham, running through their little checklist of things before they transferred him to the gurney. As they did, a woman in uniform approached her, which Emma was barely aware of until the woman tapped her on the shoulder.
Her eyes followed the gurney out into the hallway before she turned her attention to the woman. "I'm sorry, did you say something?" She asked, aware on some level that she'd been asking her something, had heard her voice as if muffled beside her as her senses all returned to her.
"Yes, sorry, ma'am, I was just asking what had happened before he collapsed?"
Emma blinked, shaking her head as she tried to remember. It had been maybe twenty minutes and already it felt as though it had been hours ago. "I–" she began, faltering as she tried to piece things together. "I–nothing. We were just…" She didn't want to say; what had happened before was something so private and intimate for them both and she didn't want to let this stranger know any part of it.
But she knew she had to, so, sighing, she continued. "We—we kissed. We–we were talking and…and then he kissed me. And then–then…" She trailed off once more as a sob wracked her body, tears beginning to fall once more. "He was fine and he just collapsed," she managed to choke out before she began crying once more.
The EMT patted her gently on the shoulder. "I'm so sorry for your loss, ma'am. We have everything we need here; would you like to go in the ambulance with him?"
Letting out a few more quiet sobs, she shook her head. Honestly, she wasn't sure if she could handle being in the ambulance with him. She already knew he was dead and there was nothing anyone could do to save him. It was already too late. What good would it do her to ride with a corpse, to hold a dead man's hand?
"No, no that's okay. I'll uh–I'll follow behind."
The woman merely nodded and gathered the rest of her things and followed the path the others had taken back out of the station. Once Emma heard the front door fall shut behind her, she too gathered her things, threw her jacket on and headed out of the building.
As she walked to her car, she noticed the label on her parking spot, 'deputy' and let out a strangled scoff. The whole idea of her being a deputy was laughable now. Some kind of deputy she was. Within days of taking the job, her boss was dead and though a part of her knew it was ridiculous, she felt responsible. From everything she'd heard from literally anyone in town except for Henry with his wild theories, things had been just fine in Storybrook until she'd arrived. Now the whole town was going to hell in a handbasket and the only thing to have changed was her arrival. This wasn't the first time in her life she felt like she was cursed.
And these were the thoughts that consumed her as she followed behind the ambulance to the hospital down the street. Then, as she pulled into the parking lot, she saw the one thing in the world that could have pushed away her own thoughts of guilt: the mayor's car. Hot tears of anger pooled once more in her deep, blue eyes at the sight. With her jaw clenched so tight her teeth began to hurt, she stepped out of her car and made a B-line to the front entrance of the building, her eyes scanning for her target.
"You!" She shouted, finally spotting Regina pacing a nearby corridor. Emma ignored the looks and comments from those in the lobby and the nurses trying to get her attention and headed straight for Regina. When she reached her, her hands flew out of their own accord and slammed the other woman against the wall behind her. "What the hell are you doing here?!" She shouted, nothing but rage in her eyes.
"I'm his emergency contact!" Regina shouted back in alarm, caught temporarily off guard by Emma's roughness. Though she quickly returned to the calm, collected mayor she always appeared and swatted Emma's hands away as though she were some bothersome fly. "And I'd appreciate it if you lowered your voice when talking to me, Ms. Swan" she added, adjusting her well-tailored suit jacket, shaking her head, her dark waves falling back into place.
But Emma didn't back down, she wasn't afraid of her like everyone else was. She'd already hit her once and right now she was seriously considering doing it again. If anything she at least thought it would make her feel better. It wouldn't change what had happened to Graham but at least she could revel in the feeling of hurting her again. She did, however, take a step away from her as she became aware of the onlookers, not wanting to cause a scene.
"You have no right being here," she said in a low growl. "You killed him, you son of a bitch." The rational part of her knew that couldn't be true but she needed someone to blame and who better than Regina?
"Killed him?" Regina responded, feigning confusion and hurt at the accusation. "According to the nurses here, you were the one who was with him. Maybe you killed him." She leveled back at Emma, a smirk almost flickering into view, her voice leaking a touch of the glee she was feeling.
"How dare you!" Emma said, not even aware she was shouting again.
"Ms. Swan, please, keep your voice down," a man's voice sounded from behind her. "This is a hospital and for your information, no one killed him. Preliminary results indicate Sheriff Graham died of a heart attack. We'll know more, of course, once an official autopsy is finished but at this point that's just a formality. I'm sorry for your loss," he added, patting both women on the shoulder before he departed once more to chat with a nearby nurse.
"Thank you," she managed to mutter quietly as he withdrew from the pair of them. And with one last glance at Regina, which she immediately regretted upon seeing what Emma interpreted as a gloating look on her face, she left the hospital.
It didn't matter what Doctor Whale had said nor anyone else for that matter, Emma knew Regina had something to do with all of this. She had no idea how that could even be possible but she just really wanted to be able to blame her for something. If nothing else, she had made him miserable, had made Graham's life a living hell, he'd said so himself, and that made Regina plenty guilty in Emma's eyes.
The next twenty minutes followed in a blur and she was both surprised and not to find herself back at the station. Was it the best place for her to be at a time like this? Most certainly not, but there she was anyway. She just couldn't think of any other place to go at the moment.
As she walked into the station, she stood in the doorway for a long while, staring at the place where Graham had fallen, noticing the remnants of the events. Papers were scattered about the floor haphazardly, the chair and desk that had been nearest to them were sitting at odd angles, having been pushed aside either when he fell or when the EMTs had come in.
Without even being aware of it, she stepped further into the room, finding herself standing directly above the scene, right where she'd been standing when it had happened. Unwittingly, the scene began to play out in her mind once more. She could see it so clearly, could almost feel the way his hands had felt against her cheek, how his lips had felt against hers and tears threatened to spill over once more.
Just then her phone rang, making her jump and she once again fumbled in her back pocket for her phone, answering it reflexively.
"Emma?" Mary Margaret's voice rang out from the other end before Emma could even say a word in greeting.
"Yeah…" Emma answered, her voice numb and devoid of emotion.
"I just heard what happened; a nurse friend of mine just called." She paused for a moment and when Emma didn't respond, she carried on. "Oh, Emma, I'm so sorry, are you okay? Where are you? Are you coming home soon?" The questions rambled off one after the other, the other woman barely taking a breath between them and by no means enough time for Emma to have answered any of them. It was very Mary Margaret and in some small way, Emma found that comforting.
It was just one small reminder that the whole world hadn't completely fallen apart. Things had changed, there was no denying that, but some things would always stay the same and that was a relief in that moment. Even if just then Emma didn't really want to hear her friend's optimism or words of comfort.
It wasn't that she didn't appreciate them; she did very much so but it just wasn't what she wanted or needed just then. She wasn't sure what she did want or need but she knew what it wasn't.
"Listen, Mary Margaret," Emma interrupted a stream of consciousness spewing from the other end of the line, "I don't wanna talk about it right now. I'm at the station and I'm okay but I'm not coming home right now. I just…I just need a minute."
By the silence that followed her words, she knew Mary Margaret wanted to argue, to pry, to nudge her into opening up and talking but Emma was glad when she didn't voice any of it, instead simply asking if she was sure.
"I'm sure."
Another prolonged pause before, "Okay, well, I'm here if you need me, okay?"
"Yeah," Emma replied before she hung up the phone without another word.
She knew she wasn't showing it at the moment but she was grateful for her friend. She'd never had many friends she could rely on in her life before Mary Margaret and for the first time in a long time, she felt she had finally found someone she could put her trust in and she would always be grateful for that in her own way. But there were still just things Mary Margaret didn't understand. Emma might not go so far as to say Mary Margaret was naive exactly but she was sometimes a bit more optimistic than Emma could stomach. It was charming most of the time but she just wasn't in the mood for that right then.
Again she found herself staring down at the spot where Graham had fallen, wondering where to go from here. All of this was so new to her, so foreign. She wasn't used to having people she cared about, nor in fact people who cared about her. She'd always been something of a lone wolf, ever since she was left abandoned on the side of the road by her parents for reasons she was sure she'd never know. And other than the Mayor herself, it seemed like everyone in Storybrook was just so different than everything she'd ever known. Even the ones with their own troubled past seemed to have some sort of community surrounding them, lifting them up when they were down. Almost everyone at least.
And it was that thought which propelled Emma into movement once more. With no real plan to speak of, she darted into Graham's office, rifling through the drawers until she found what she was looking for. Thumbing through the pages of a town directory, she scanned with fervor before she grabbed her keys once more and bolted from the station driven by sudden purpose.
Much quicker than was strictly legal, she found herself outside of a dark, victorian style home and was unsurprised to see lights on within. Even as she glanced at the clock in her car, showing it was just after two o'clock in the morning, she was glad to see she was right in assuming he'd still be awake at this hour. She'd been counting on it, in fact, and she quickly pushed any curious thoughts of just what on earth he was doing awake at a time like this from her mind. It suited her needs so right then she didn't care.
Mr. Gold was standing in his kitchen, pouring a second glass of whiskey when he heard the knock on his door. As there had never been a single occasion in the past twenty-eight years that anyone had ever come to call on him at his home, not even Regina, he became immediately suspicious. Wordlessly, he moved to the drawer where he kept a gun and withdrew it before stepping into the hallway.
As he walked quietly, or as quietly as he could with a cane, he tried to discern from within who was at his door but with the late hour and the deep darkness settled outside, he couldn't make out more than a shape from through the stained glass windows of his front door. Gun concealed behind his back, he opened the door and could not have been more surprised to find Emma Swan standing in his doorway looking decidedly disheveled.
"Ms. Swan?" He questioned, opening the door wider, allowing the light from within to reveal her. "A bit late for a house call, don't you think?" He added, confusion still evident on his aging features as he withdrew his gun from behind him, placing it on a small accent table near the door. He watched curiously as her eyes followed it, only the merest hint of a question in her eyes at the sight of it.
"You can never be too careful, dearie," he replied to her unanswered question. "Especially at this hour." He added, again alluding to how odd it was for her to be there at a time like this.
As though struck dumb, Emma stood there in silence, looking from him to the gun and Gold could almost see the mental gymnastics she was doing, prompting a sly grin from him.
"Well, it's unwise to linger over doorways, Ms. Swan, please do come in," he said and opened the door fully now, stepping aside and gesturing for her to enter. When she continued staring in silence, making only the slightest of movements toward the open door, he shrugged and turned his back on her, moving back down the hall toward the kitchen. "I was just fixing myself a drink, would you like one? Or are you here on police business?"
"No," she bit our curtly, stirred suddenly by the word 'police' and she'd finally taken a step through the threshold.
"No you wouldn't like a drink or no you're not here on police business," he called out to her from the depths of the kitchen, grabbing a glass for her regardless.
"I'm not here on police business," she replied, her voice closer now and he turned to find her standing in the doorway of the kitchen, her hands poised on her hips, the caricature of a police officer during an interrogation.
"What did I say about doorways, dearie," he said, pushing a glass of whiskey in her direction across the counter.
She looked around herself as though surprised to find herself this far into his home and stepped tentatively out from the doorway and toward the counter. He watched curiously as she took in her surroundings, noted the hesitant way she approached. He still had no idea what she was there for and the longer he looked at her, the more it was clear she wasn't sure what she was doing there either.
When she made no further moves toward him, nor indeed to the drink he poured for her, he took the initiative himself and walked around the island to meet her. Leaning his hip against the counter for balance as he set his cane down, he grabbed her drink and held it out to her. She took it as though by reflex but did not take a sip, instead continued her assessment of his kitchen.
By this point, Mr. Gold was more than amused and immensely curious. "Is there something I can do for you, Ms. Swan?"
She started at the sound of his voice and turned to him as if only just realizing he was there. She looked from him to the drink in her hand then back again. This time, her eyes lingered on him, taking in his appearance for the first time that evening. He said nothing, only eyed her curiously as her eyes raked over him and he was about to speak again when she finally came out of her trance.
"Yeah…yeah, there is," she replied in a tone Gold could only inexplicably describe as husky as she set her untouched drink down on the counter, quickly closing the already short distance between them.
And that was about as much warning as he got as to what her intentions were before she'd grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and planted her lips forcefully on his. There was an immense urgency in the action and it was neither sweet nor soft. It couldn't even be described as lustful, it was feral.
Though this did not stop him from responding and kissing her in return, letting her direct as he followed on eagerly, his arms encircling her as she pressed herself further against him.
It wasn't until he felt her hands at his belt, heard the clink of the metal as she unbuckled it that his senses came flooding back to him and he reached down to still her movements, mind reeling.
"Wait, Ms. Swan, wait. What are you doing?"
She looked up at him breathless, her lips slightly swollen and red from their kissing. Though she didn't take her hands away from him.
"Come on, Gold, are you the kinda guy I think you are or not?" And she looked at him expectantly, almost a challenge in her eyes; Mr. Gold always did enjoy a challenge.