A/N: Primary canon reference: S1E7 "The Heart is a Lonely Hunter

Chapter 25

Graham was waiting when Henry got back home. He frowned. "Did you come back to talk to my Mom now?"

Graham shook his head. "No… I… that vault in your book. Have you ever seen anything like it in town?"

Henry frowned. "No…"

"Think," Graham urged. "It's important. I've been racking my brains, trying to think where it could be. I have seen it. I just don't remember where."

Henry hesitated. "My mom should be home any minute," he said. "We can't talk long."

"Don't worry about that," Graham said. "If she does, I'll just say I stopped by on town business."

Henry grinned. "Welcome to Operation Cobra." He motioned the sheriff to follow him inside before Graham could ask him to explain.

It was, perhaps, a half hour later when Graham stepped back into the outdoors. He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't notice the yellow bug parked outside. If he had, he wouldn't have been so startled when the door popped open and Emma emerged. "Hey," she said, "I hear you're having a rough day."

"Who says?" he demanded.

"Pretty much everyone," Emma shot back. "I think maybe you need to go home and get some rest."

He didn't have time for this now. He barely registered that Emma was talking to him again. "I'm fine," he snapped.

"No," Emma countered. "You're not. You just went to see a ten-year-old for help."

"He's the only one making any sense," Graham snapped.

To his surprise, he saw Emma blink. And then, she continued more softly, "Graham? What's going on in this town? Seriously, what's really going on?"

She felt it, too, he realized. The general 'offness' that he was only starting to wake up to. So that was three of them: he himself, Henry, and now Emma. Perhaps… perhaps, he could trust her after all. "It's my heart, Emma," he said. "I need to find it."

"O…kay," Emma said, evidently not knowing what he meant. "How are you going to do that?"

"I just need to follow the wolf," he said. Only after the words were out of his mouth did he realize how ridiculous the whole thing sounded. "The wolf from my dreams," he tried again. "It's going to help me find my heart."

"W-wait," Emma said, confusion yielding to incredulity. "You didn't mean it as a metaphor? You really think you haven't got a heart?"

She didn't believe him. He'd overestimated her. But maybe… maybe he could still make her understand. "It's the only thing that makes any sense," he said. "It's the only thing that explains why I don't feel anything."

She was shaking her head. "Listen to me, Graham," she said urgently. "You have a heart. I can prove it." She put her hand on his chest. "See?" she said. "It beats. It's real." She grabbed his hand and put it where hers had been, and he felt it. He did. But he knew that the only reason he felt it was because he was supposed to. People weren't supposed to be able to rip out other people's hearts, not without killing them—messily—anyway. If he was alive and breathing, then he had to have a heart. He understood that. But at the same time, he knew that Henry was right. He had a heart, but it wasn't in his chest. He didn't understand how it was possible, but he believed it with every fiber of his being and with all the heart that wasn't where it was supposed to be.

"No," he said with clear conviction. "It's the curse."

She was looking at him the way… The way I've been looking at Henry since I learned he's been seeing Archie, he thought with a pang. "You can't believe that's true," she said, shaking her head again.

And then, she seemed to look past him and her eyes grew wider.

"What?" he asked, turning around. The wolf he'd been seeing since the evening before was back. From the look on Emma's face, she saw it too. After a moment, it turned tail and ran.

Emma and Graham each shot the other a stunned glance before Graham took off after it, Emma only a couple of steps behind.

Emma had thought she was in better shape than this! Graham was tireless, but she was winded, by the time the wolf stopped running. Looking around, she realized that she was in the town cemetery. Graham advanced closer to the animal and she warned him to be careful.

"He's my friend," Graham said calmly. "He won't hurt us."

Wolves, she thought she remembered, generally weren't aggressive toward humans, but there was something off about this one. Something off about Graham; something off about the wolf; something off about the town; what exactly passes for normal around here? Emma wondered. Neal. When Neal got here, she'd get a better grip on what normal was supposed to be again.

The wolf's howl was an eerie sound and Emma was sure that under her jacket, her arms were covered with goose pimples, each hair standing on end. It took off again at a lope and Emma and Graham pursued. It rounded a marble structure, but when they followed where it had gone, it had vanished. Emma turned to Graham, intending to ask what to do next. Graham, however, was looking up at the marble structure—a crypt, she could see now—eyes widening. "What is it?" she asked.

"It's my heart," Graham said. "It's in there."

Neal looked at his ticket with satisfaction. "Two days," he noted.

His liaison, Susan Lockwood, smiled. "Guess you can't wait to get back to balmier temperatures," she said.

"I never considered thirty-two degrees in November to be balmy," Neal bantered back. "Until I came here."

"It's thirty-two here, today," Susan pointed out. "Just on the opposite side of the zero."

"Don't remind me," Neal groaned. "Seriously, I don't know how you guys do it." He frowned. "If it's still like this the day after tomorrow, will my flight be cancelled?"

Susan shook her head. "Might be delayed a bit, if the wings ice up, but cold weather is pretty much par for the course in these parts. We don't close our airports for half the year," she assured him. "And while it's not like you can roll down your window on the aircraft to test this, I'm reliably informed that the temperatures at cruising altitude run even colder." She grinned. "I like you, Cassidy, but you're starting to bore me. I'm getting tired of having you hanging around every day." She made a shooing motion. "Go home."

"Don't have to tell me twice," Neal chuckled. "But if you're ever in Boston, or maybe Maine…"

"I'll look you up."

Emma couldn't believe her ears. Graham had to know how irrational he sounded, right? Like he had to know he couldn't be walking around without a heart. And he thought it was in this… mausoleum? The whole idea was (yes, Archie had cautioned her about using the word, but it really seemed to fit here) crazy! Her eyes widened when she realized that Graham had taken out a flashlight. "I have to look in there," he said.

"Oh, no!" she moaned. "Stop, stop!"

"I have to get in there," Graham repeated stubbornly, almost begging. "Please."

"Graham…" She'd forgive him if he admitted now that he was just kidding. Or if this was some test to see if she could… handle a suspect with mental health issues, or something. Well, first she'd slug him with something heavy enough to hurt and then she'd forgive him. She dimly remembered watching Candid Camera in a few of her foster placements and wondered if it was still on the air, or if some copycat incarnation was filming here. She fought to keep her eyes on Graham and not scan for hidden cameras. "Come on!" she exclaimed. "You really think your heart is in there?"

He nodded firmly.

"Okay," Emma said. Clearly, they weren't leaving here until he saw the truth for himself. "Let's find out."

She yanked on the handle on the mausoleum door, but it wouldn't open. "Come on," she muttered. Then she realized that the door wasn't going to listen to verbal encouragement and gave it a firm kick. It gave way almost at once and they entered.

It was dim inside the building. Thanks to Graham's flashlight, Emma could make out a sarcophagus and several urns—exactly the sort of stuff one might expect to find in a crypt in a cemetery. "It's got to be in here," Graham insisted. "Somewhere." He panned the light slowly along the wall and pressed his free hand against it. "There's got to be a hidden door," he continued. "A lever." He checked an urn. "Something."

"Graham," Emma said gently, drawing closer. "Hey. Graham." When he looked at her, she shook her head. "There's nothing here."

"There has to be!" he exclaimed. "If there isn't, then…"

"It's okay," Emma said, wondering if Archie could meet them at the gate or if it would be better to bring Graham there. Or… maybe she should bring Graham to the hospital first and then ask Archie to meet them there? "It's going to be okay."

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" an angry voice startled them and they turned their heads as one to look at its owner standing in the doorway. Regina.

Emma wondered how long they'd been inside the crypt; it was already dark out when they stepped out again. The mayor was waiting for an explanation and Emma knew she didn't have a good one. There was no name on the mausoleum and she had no idea to whom it belonged, but she was well aware that she had no business there. And how the hell could she account for any of this rationally? Graham thinks his heart is in here, and I thought it wouldn't hurt to have a look around. Technically true, but also throwing Graham under the bus. Considering that he and Regina were involved, Emma didn't think that kind of defense would be well received. Don't get defensive, she told herself. Take the offensive. You're not the only ones sneaking around this place, are you? "What are you doing here?" she demanded of Regina.

Instead of getting flustered, the mayor replied calmly, "Bringing flowers to my father's grave like I do every Wednesday," and Emma's heart sank. The sarcophagus in the crypt. She hadn't looked for a nameplate, but if Regina hadn't entered because she'd been tailing them, but because…

This was her family crypt. Emma opened her mouth to apologize, but Graham spoke first.

"Don't blame her," he said. "It's my fault. I wanted to look in there."

Regina's eyebrows shot up and Emma didn't think her surprise was feigned. "Really?" she asked with surprising gentleness. "Why? What were you looking for?"

Graham, evidently, realized how bizarre his conviction would sound to her, for he replied quickly, "Nothing. It was nothing."

Still speaking gently, the mayor said, "You don't look well, dear. Let's take you home," she added, grabbing hold of his arm.

Graham twisted free. "Regina," he said, sounding befuddled but firm, "I… I don't want to go home. Not with you."

"Oh?" Regina replied. Her voice hardened, as she looked from Graham to Emma. "But you'll go with her."

"Hey." Emma did not want to be caught in the middle of this. "This is between you two," she protested. "Leave me out of it."

"She's right," Graham said, sounding a good deal more sure of himself than he had a moment ago. "It's between us. And things have to change."

"And I wonder why that is all of a sudden," Regina said, eyeing Emma coldly still.

"It has nothing to do with her," Graham insisted. "You know," he continued, "I've realized that I don't feel anything, Regina. And I know now it's not me – it's you.

"So, you're leaving me for her?" Regina asked.

It was on the tip of Emma's tongue to say that she didn't want him, but Graham spoke first again and what he said next made her want to cheer. "I'm leaving you for me."

Regina flinched, but her voice was calm when she responded, "Graham, you're not thinking straight."

"Actually," Graham replied, "for the first time, I am. I'd rather have nothing than settle for less. Nothing? Is better than what we have. I need to feel something, Regina, and the only way to do that is to give myself a chance."

"Graham," Regina started to say, but he cut her off.

"I'm sorry," he said. "It's over."

Stunned, Regina turned wounded eyes on Emma. "I don't know what I ever did to you, Ms Swan, to deserve this. To have you keep coming after everything I hold dear."

"I told you—"

"It's okay, Graham," Emma said. "I've got this." She locked eyes with Regina. "No matter how much you want to make this about me," she said, "it's not. Hard as it might be for you to grasp, this really is all Graham."

"None of this happened until you got here, Ms Swan," Regina countered.

"I'm sorry," Emma shot back, fighting to control her temper. "But did you ever stop to think that maybe the problem isn't with me, but with you?"

"Excuse me?"

"Henry came and found me," Emma said. "Graham kissed me. Both were miserable. Maybe, Madam Mayor, you need to take a good hard look in the mirror and ask yourself why that is. Why is everyone running away from you?"

Maybe she was trying to rile Regina up, but she certainly hadn't expected the punch that sent her careening into Graham. What the hell…? In the middle of the throbbing pain of her temple, the stinging below her eyebrow, and Graham's cry of protest, Emma found herself noting that the mayor wasn't as unflappable as she seemed. And then, she was back on her feet and retaliating in kind. Before Regina could recover, Emma had grabbed her and slammed her against the mausoleum. And then, Graham was wrenching her away and she was fighting to… to… what? Kill Regina? Make her bleed? Graham was shouting at her, at both of them, to stop, and angry though she was, she realized that he was right. She gave him a quick nod, broke out of his grip and shot Regina a venomous glare. "Not worth it," she said coldly. And then she turned on her heel and started walking away. She didn't realize that Graham was following, until she heard Regina call his name.

At first, she thought that he might go back to the mayor, but he fell into step behind her as they departed the cemetery, leaving Regina alone. "Let's head to the station," she murmured. Graham didn't disagree.

Emma's thoughts were churning as they stepped inside the sheriff station. The events of the last half hour were already taking on a surreal quality. Despite her admittedly dangerous line of work, physical attacks were rare. Most of the time, her quarry preferred flight to fight, and while Ryan Kirkpatrick hadn't been the first fugitive to upend a restaurant table into her lap, such incidents were uncommon enough to be remarkable. She definitely had not seen Regina's punch coming, though she wasn't at all sorry she'd returned it.

"I'm sorry," Graham's voice broke into her thoughts. "I don't know what came over me."

"It's okay," Emma murmured. Then, she added, "I'm… starting to think there's a lot of that going around." There was, she realized. She was trained in self-defense. Her first counter to Regina's attack should have been a block, and if she hadn't been able to, then a flip or a throw—not a punch. Suppose she'd been up against a heavier opponent, someone who actually knew how to fight? Regina didn't, Emma thought. If she did, she would have been ready for Emma's retaliation. The mayor had lashed out in anger, but she was no fighter; she'd just… lost control. Or maybe she was afraid that she was losing control. Or maybe, she was waking up to the idea that possibly, she wasn't in control and someone was playing her.

Regina was waking up and Graham was waking up and…

Just what the hell, Emma wondered, had she stumbled into in this place?

"It's okay," she repeated. "You were tired and feverish and… heartbroken and…"

"And?" Graham repeated.

Emma took a breath. "And I'm starting to think there's something screwy going on here. It's not just Regina."

"Still don't know why I let myself get caught up with her," Graham mumbled.

"Because it was easy," Emma said. "And safe. Not feeling anything's an attractive option when what you feel sucks." She realized that Graham was lifting a gauze pad toward her face and she let him apply it. Somehow, while she'd been talking, he'd dabbed it with alcohol, because the stinging below her eyebrow got worse when the pad touched it. "Felt that," she murmured.

"So," Graham said, as he continued to attend to what was probably a cut or a scrape—come to think of it, Regina had been sporting a ring on that hand, "besides running into wolves with mismatched eyes, and no, that's not a regular occurrence in these parts, what else have you noticed that's… screwy?"

Emma sighed. "You got a couple of hours?" She flinched again as he pressed down with the gauze pad.

"All better," he said with a smile. "And my evenings look like they've become clear for the foreseeable future."

"Yeah," Emma said. "So, it's not really any one major thing. It's a whole bunch of little things. Henry pointed me to a few of them, but it feels like everything is… snowballing. Or maybe I'm seeing things because he's got me thinking and it's just my imagination," she went on. "I don't know. I mean, if you look at every little thing, by itself, each one is nothing, but when you start looking at the big picture…"

"What does it look like?" Graham asked, sounding, for once, like she imagined a police detective ought to sound.

"I don't know," Emma admitted. "But I can't shake the feeling that there's more happening here than meets the eye." She reached over for the pad and pen on the desk and staggered as a wave of dizziness washed over her.

"Emma?"

At once, he was at her side.

Emma shook her head. "I think I've been running on adrenaline," she said. "Just feeling a little… wobbly, I guess."

"Hang on," Graham said. "You might have a concussion."

"No," Emma said, as he brushed back the hair from her face with his hand. "I've had those a couple of times. She didn't hit me that hard. I'm just… tired. Or maybe that fever of yours is contagious."

"Uh… may I?" Graham asked hesitantly, bringing his lips toward her forehead. "Just to see. I-I'm not trying to…"

"Oh," Emma smiled. "Yeah, go for it."

He kissed her forehead and his eyes went wide.

"Graham?" Emma asked. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Graham staggered backwards as though… as though someone just punched him, Emma thought. Only, why the hell was he smiling?

"Graham?" Emma repeated, her dizziness drowned by her worry. "Are you okay?"

"I remember," Graham whispered.

"Graham?"

"I remember," he repeated, breaking into a smile.

Emma shook her head, frowning in confusion. "You remember… what?"

He cupped his face in her hands, still smiling. "Thank you," he said.

In the next instant, his smile vanished, replaced by an expression of pure agony, as he slumped to the ground with a strangled cry. Emma bent over him, shouting his name, as she frantically tried pounding his chest, trying to hear the heartbeat she'd heard there before.

She'd never hear it again.