Title: Broken Glass

Note: Breaking Free verse. Because this is a verse now, with Breaking Free and then Take a Break. I received a prompt approximately a million years ago. I had about the first paragraph done right away, and then it sat there since March of 2020. That's right: FIVE YEARS. But I'm at a strange time where my muse was reactivated, and thus this got finished. Thank you to anyone that actually decides to read, even though I am mainly posting so this doesn't continue to haunt me. I really appreciate it.

He was relaxed for a moment, pulling his hands through the long strands of her hair as she breathed heavily across the skin of his chest. She was awake but just barely, mellowed and drifting towards sleep. It was rare to see her so at peace, especially with all the running around they'd had to do in the past few weeks.

He finally turned his head to look down at her, fingers cupping along her jaw to prompt her to look up. Her green eyes were wide and inquisitive, but her lips curled into a smile to see his own.

"Hmm?" she murmured her question, and her hand snaked down his ribs until her fingers caught over his hipbone.

He shook his head and leaned down, nudging her nose with his. "Nothing. Just … quiet."

Her lashes flickered across her cheeks and she leaned up to press a slow kiss to his lips. "Won't be long. But yeah … it's kinda nice," she agreed.

He hummed an agreement; it wouldn't last long. With the little spells slowly coming apart at the seams came more danger from Regina and the rest of the lot lurking behind the curtain of the Dark Curse.

This most recent, and potentially significant, win for their side only heightened the pressure they were in, and most of yesterday was spent on edge as they anticipated the fallout from it. She had frozen him out for half of the day, then picked fights for the other half. The pent-up tension had made their coupling quick, hard, aggressive, and now they had finally tempered down to something more akin to themselves.

"Quiet can certainly have its advantages," she said huskily. She dragged her lips across his shoulder, her thumb absently rubbing across the line of his hip, and something in the bare intimacy of it stirred his blood.

He pressed her back into the sheets, biting down on her neck as his hands roamed down her body. He was just about to devour her entirely and take his time doing so, when of course his cell went off.

"No," she groaned out, and hooked her leg over him. "Stay."

He kissed her languidly, toying with the idea of ignoring it completely as it buzzed again. But the feeling of before, of anticipating another shoe dropping …. "Let me just check it."

She pouted. "Fine, Mr. Officer," she teased, and untangled from him. She rose from the sheets and stretched. She didn't bother grabbing a robe as she patted towards the kitchen. "I'm going to get a snack, then."

He growled under his breath as he watched her leave, snagging the offending phone off the dresser. He was glad to see the humor back in her, even if it was just to drive him crazy.

The newer technology she had procured for him after her pre-election stopover in Boston was still a bit confusing, and he struggled to unlock his screen. It took him a moment to find the now-familiar contact that had popped up with its alert. He sighed and dragged his hand through his hair, letting the curls stand on end. Now, this was what he had been expecting. "It's an actual call. Problem at the Rabbit Hole."

Emma peeked into the doorway, a jar of peanut butter in hand, knife already sticking out of it. "Rabbit Hole," she said slowly, a hint of dread in her tone. "… who's that?"

He grabbed his boxers from the pool of clothes on the floor and pulled them on. "It's Jefferson. He just caught sight of broken glass on the street; looks like no one's actually called it in yet. And we know it's not like he's going to investigate," he said somewhat bitterly.

He had actually thought they were going to gain an extra fighter when they'd stumbled on the hatter on the hill, but he barely counted as an ally.

They had been coming from the town line, leaving behind a newly reunited family, when the cruiser's tire popped. Graham hadn't been too concerned about being stuck in the middle of the woods, though he had seen something different in the way Emma was reacting to it. It wasn't long before they understood it as intuition, and the hatter appeared mere moments later.

He had been enigmatic, stirring up the already tense mood with pressing questions and barely-there threats. When he realized that they both knew about the curse, he had been surprised, relief loosening his tongue to the point he was tripping over his words.

It was almost painful to admit that they had no idea how to break it. For Jefferson, it was sobering. Relief transformed into anger, and he had been adamant that Emma had magic in her. Graham could have told him that much, but without any clue how to use it, it was worthless.

They had left the mansion with a fresh set of bruises around Emma's wrist and an ache in Graham's fist acquired before the understanding had been come to. Jefferson was left to something less threatening, and had managed to begrudgingly admit that at least they had a team forming for their side before they left.

That didn't mean they had any new ideas.

Jefferson had decided to bury himself back into his mansion, sulking and subdued. He popped back up with random texts at random hours, half thought out plots and memories that he thought could be helpful. In fact, some of those ideas were in fact helpful, popping threads of Regina's hold.

But he was never satisfied. So far, Jefferson thought it had all been fruitless, even though they had managed to stitch together some happy endings here and there. In his eyes, if it didn't mean that Paige was Grace again, it didn't count.

Graham rubbed the back of his neck as he thought about the implications of this observation. "So we don't know what's involved," he continued.

Emma frowned and chewed on her lip. "So that means it might not have even been a break in. It might have been a fight, or worse," she collapsed against the doorframe and her eyes rolled upward. "If it's her, we should both go. I told you I don't like the thought of her on her own there."

He grimaced. "Well, we got Jefferson's eyes in that direction at least. We don't know anything yet, and Mikey should have been on shift, too," he reasoned.

"I still say we should have gotten her elsewhere. It's only been a few days, and we know Sidney frequents that place," she grumbled.

"We tried," he reminded, and tossed a shirt over his head. One of the fights she picked earlier had been of that, but they couldn't force anything on her after decades prior of just that from Regina. He pulled on his jacket and glanced back at her. "You can stay here, you know. We don't actually know if anything happened. It was a long day today, and you've gotta meet Henry on the way to school tomorrow."

He tried to facilitate her time with Henry as much as possible, for the both of them. Emma couldn't quite see just how much the boy loved her, and was even more reluctant to admit to herself how much she loved him, but maybe someday. In the meantime, the time spent together kept them all sane. Especially Henry, who he worried after more than anyone else, stuck under Regina's unyielding hand.

She snorted. "Like I could sleep," she griped and stalked over to the spare room.

He pulled on his trousers and frowned deeply at his phone. There was still nothing from the Rabbit Hole. He quickly shot off an answering text to Jefferson, asking him to keep the telescope on the bar until he got there. If nothing else, he trusted him to do that.

When she came back, she was dressed and her hair was brushed through, but her face was pulled into a scowl. "I don't like this, Graham."

He cautiously grabbed her hand, thumb rolling over the tattoo on her wrist. She visibly relaxed, and he breathed through knowing he could at least get her to do that. "I know you don't. But every day we get a little closer to the end, I know it."

She grimaced and looked up at him. "I wish I had your optimism," she said.

He shrugged. "I only get mine from the kid, so," he teased.

She tried to hide a smile and then tugged on her red jacket. "C'mon, let's get this over with. I want to get back in bed."

"I told you that you could sleep," he said with a shrug.

"And I told you I won't be sleeping," she said and tugged on his hand.

When they pulled up, there was a light dusting of snow across the sidewalk, glimmering in the dim glow of the neon lights. He was barely able to discern the ice from the shards of glass, though they were apparent. "Hey, walk careful," he warned back to Emma. He heard the car door slam and then the careful crunch of snow under boots and knew she was heeding his words.

He examined the shatter of the door, spider-webbing outward from a hole towards the bottom. "Mikey?" he called.

"Sheriff?" Mikey answered, and he peeked through the fractures of the window. He was wiping his hands with a dirty rag, and he nodded. "Someone call it in, I guess?"

"Yeah," he said and sidestepped the glass to open the door. "Looks like you had some problems tonight." He scanned the bar area, but it looked like just the three employees were left, along with Leroy on the back stool finishing a drink and almost asleep. Granny must've kicked him out.

Mikey shrugged. "Ah, nothing much. I'll get it boarded up so no one gets in and then I'll sweep up the walk. Be good as new by tomorrow. You know how these drunks get."

"Anybody hurt?" Emma asked as she ducked through the doorway.

Mikey put a stool on the bar top. "Some egos, maybe, Sheriff two."

He relaxed, especially with the teasing tone Mikey had taken. It was a tossup how people accepted Emma now, whiplashing from blatantly ignoring her to considering her a saint. Mikey, for all he didn't know of his former self, was at least ready to let the new title slip off his tongue easily. "How'd it start?" Graham asked, flipping out a notebook. Even if this had nothing to do with the feeling from yesterday, he'd have to do his job at least.

"With me, probably."

Graham turned to find the girl in question. Her hair was thrown up on top of her head, makeup heavy, and she was in an electric blue tube top, sheer stockings, and shorts that belied the blistering cold outside. Her normal accent was pushed back by the coarser twang of her cursed one. She wore a smirk and a hand on her hip.

"Who are you?" the voice asked, dark stringy hair obscuring features. The figure was small, frail, huddled into themselves. The voice was plainly female, if hoarse in disuse.

Graham hesitated, and glanced back to the two behind him before responding. "I'm the Sheriff," he answered simply, and decided to use the excuse they meant to give the nurse before Jefferson took the matter into his own hands. "We have reason to believe you are here under false pretenses."

The girl untangled her limbs and her face caught the moonlight. Graham sucked in a sharp breath, suddenly struck by familiarity. Emma was close, fingers brushing up against his own. He turned to her and swallowed, inclining his head slightly. Jefferson was right.

The prisoner in the tower. He didn't know her name, but he knew enough that Regina thought her important enough to capture rather than kill. Important enough, but yet not so important as to shine any light on her imprisonment. There had been one aborted rescue attempt, he thought, but without any follow-through.

Jefferson had promised a blow to Regina. If she still wanted the girl hidden even with the curse, releasing her certainly would be.

Jefferson was impatient, and pushed to the front of them. His eyes were dark, jaw set. "Come with us." He yanked her to her feet and she was lifted like a ragdoll.

The girl's eyes were wide, scared, and she let out a sharp squeak of what he hoped was surprise and not pain.

"Jefferson…," he growled, and took his shoulder. The man's answering look was blank, as if he didn't recognize what he was doing as wrong.

"We have to get her out of here before Regina's lackeys catch on," he said, his tone patronizing. "I would have guessed you'd realize that, being that you used to be one of them."

"Okay, that's enough," Emma cut in sharply, and pushed the hatter back. She pinned him with a glare. She turned to the girl and frowned. "Look, me and Graham, we're from the sheriff's office. We can get you out of here."

Her eyes flashed back and forth between all of them. "I don't," she hesitated and then licked her lips. "I don't know why I'm here."

"You don't belong here," Emma said firmly, and then pulled off her leather jacket. She draped it over the girl's thin shoulders and guided her toward the door. "We're going to get you home."

He shook off the memory. "Not your father again, Lacey?" Graham finally asked. It didn't look like the handiwork of the Queen, though he knew that Regina must be seething over her loss. Maurice had been set up in place as explanation for her imprisonment, though, so the curse still had him pushing against his daughter out in the world and out of confinement. It had been the initial push-back in getting her reintegrated into a life.

Lacey shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest. "Nah, he's keepin' his distance for now," she said and moved to the pool table. "It's the guy that's been mooning all over me since I started work again. He took offense to me tryin' to snag a date off Keith."

"Keith," Graham murmured, and his jaw tightened. He barely remembered the man from the other realm, but enough that he was set on edge. He turned to Emma, wondering if she got the same vibe from his cursed counterpart. She was staring right back at him, and gave a bare shrug.

"Wait, so this was some big macho fight over you? Don't guys know?" Emma said with forced humor.

Lacey smirked and pulled a couple pool sticks back into the rack. "Well, anyway. He tried to pull some punches, got them both kicked out. Next thing you know, the door's all shattered to hell. Angry pricks."

"Who's the other guy, then?" Graham asked, and scratched the back of his head. He hated the fact that her cursed persona had no problem exposing herself to danger. He could barely see the kind, open face of the girl he once knew behind the personality of this woman.

She smacked her gum and moved the cue chalk under the table. "The landlord."

He startled. "What?"

Emma set her hands on her hips, jaw tight. Her eyes were flaming, and he could see every last bit of residual anger from the election on her face. "Gold."

Graham narrowed his gaze on her. "Gold?" he asked, and turned to Mikey for confirmation. Mikey bobbed his head, still wiping down glasses, but not really paying attention. He turned to Emma next, feeling that pit of dread suddenly taking more shape.

Instantly, it made sense. A secret prisoner in a tower was one saved for leverage. He was not expecting a connection to Rumpelstiltskin, but Regina would want to wield stakes against him in this world just as much as she would in the other.

He wondered if it was better or worse that she was out of the hospital basement, for any of them.

Lacey spun on her heel and reached for the whiskey on the top shelf. She poured herself a glass and pushed a messy lock of hair behind her ear. "I don't know why he's been so damn persistent. Talkin' about keepin' me safe and all that. I can take care of myself," she ground out.

Emma slid next to him, and he could practically feel her wariness. "Sure, Lacey, but it doesn't hurt to take some extra precautions. You've been back on your feet for, what, two days?"

Lacey shook her head and grinned wryly. "So it makes sense that I wanna get back to my routine, right?" She took back a shot.

"Lacey, take it easy. It's comin' out of your tips," Mikey warned, and then disappeared into the back room.

"Yeah, yeah," she muttered and tipped her head at them. "Want any?"

He could see Emma's head shake in the negative in time with his before they shared a look. Graham tucked away the notebook. "Look, Lacey … I understand that you want your freedom—"

"No," she said firmly, and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "I deserve my freedom. If Dad hadn't had me locked up in the first place, this wouldn't be an issue," she ground out.

Graham gave a conceding nod. "You do. But it doesn't hurt to take precautions. Maybe take a week off, get settled."

"And do what? At least people know to look if I don't show up at work," she argued.

Graham's head dropped, and he silently agreed. Emma came to flank him. "Maybe it wouldn't hurt to take up a self-defense class or two, though," she said dryly.

Lacey smirked. "That I might consider."

Once they had obligatorily written down their notes, taken their pictures, and logged the statements, they walked out together back into the snow. Graham shared a look with her as the patched up door closed behind them. "We tried," he said, seeing the furrow that creased her forehead.

She took in a deep breath and her shoulders slumped. "Yeah. I know we did," she said dejectedly.

"Is she okay?"

They both turned toward the dark alley, barely making out the outline of the figure in the shadows. The accent, however, was unmistakable.

Graham's shoulders squared. "That's not your business."

He stepped forward, barely glancing toward the broken window. "I just need to know."

Emma locked her hand in his and glared at the man. "Why? Haven't you caused enough trouble?"

His answering look was impatient, and he leaned heavily on his cane. "She must be kept safe, and I am only looking to that. With Regina you can never be too prepared."

Emma was tense, and only glowered. They may agree about Regina, but blindly trusting Gold was a mistake only to make once.

Gold took the silence in stride, and sneered. "So, perhaps a deal's in order."

Graham raised his chin. He hadn't outright told the man that he had his memories, hadn't told him that he knew who he was. He suspected he knew anyway. "I don't make deals with people I don't trust," he said darkly.

Gold sneered. "Then maybe it's a good thing that your girl here owes me a favor."

Emma visibly bristled, and her spine straightened. Her grip on his tightened. "'His girl' gets final say in which favor she says yes to," she replied haughtily.

His eye twitched, and Graham gently tugged on her hand to bring her shoulder-to-shoulder with him. He was sure they didn't make too intimidating a pair to an immortal like he was, but he needed to punctuate her stand with one of his own.

Gold nearly rolled his eyes. "Fine, then, Huntsman, what will get you two to concede?"

Graham tried not to falter. He had never been so blatant with the secret they both wished to hide. His jaw set and he growled under his breath. "Why does it matter?"

His jaw set, eyes taking on a murderous glint. "I don't much enjoy repeating myself."

Emma squeezed his hand gently and then released it to take a step forward. "The hearts, then. Help us get them back."

Graham turned to her, feeling that empty place within him tighten in a strange sort of way. He couldn't believe how much he loved her, even without it.

Gold, for his part, scoffed. "Much good they will do you."

"Better than being a pawn for Regina's use," she countered.

"Clever girl," he replied, grin stretching across his face darkly. The imp he once was felt much more apparent in his current state of amusement. "It's a deal, then? I help you both get the queen's rotten hands from those souls, and you keep my Belle safe."

"How can we trust that you'll be able to do it?" Emma asked cautiously.

His grin deepened. "You still doubt me after the election?"

Emma glowered at him. "Not a good time to remind me, Gold."

"Do you have magic?" Graham cut in, having finally centered his thoughts.

"Ah, this is the world without it, Huntsman," he replied.

He cocked an eyebrow. It wasn't exactly an answer, but he chose not to press. Yet. "Then she doesn't have any?"

Gold's eyes glimmered. "The only one that has any semblance of magic is beside you."

Emma faltered at that, and glanced between them two blankly a moment before rolling her shoulders back. She still grappled with that idea, and it was painted clear as day on her face in this moment. Still, she pressed forward. "Is that why you're hanging on to that favor?"

"Like I said, clever girl," he replied. "But it also means we have an advantage against the queen. So, we should have a plan to get those stray internal organs in the right spot, especially since this one still has his own missing," he said, jutting his chin in his direction.

Graham's cheek twitched, but he didn't rise to the unspoken bait. "Sure, of course a plan's in order. But the onus is on you for it."

"A deal's a deal," he said darkly, and held out his hand.

"Why does this deal feel very Faustian?" Emma muttered for only him to hear before stepping forward to shake his hand. "What exactly are you expecting from us?"

"For now? Make sure that the queen and that simple-minded twit Maurice don't get near her. I'll have more for you later."

Emma stepped back, a crunch of leftover glass beneath her heel. "I'm sure you will."

Graham needed to remind himself: the enemy of my enemy and all that. "But you will not approach Emma alone," he bit out his own terms, his voice wrought with the growl he would have preferred to expel.

Emma caught his hand again. "And you don't approach him alone. We will reach out to you."

Gold chuckled darkly. "Sheriff and Sheriff. Understood." He dripped back into the shadows, but then lingered. "But know this – you may think you're in charge. I just trust that you think about that before moving forward with any threats."

They didn't get a chance to answer, but Graham doubted there was much they could have said to counter him. Instead, he took a deep breath and turned to Emma. She was frowning deeply, but managed to shrug a shoulder up at his inspection. "Gotta live up to my name somehow. Not the best way to start, maybe, but there are worse ways."

He sighed. "You don't have to be anything you don't want to be," he reminded.

She blinked. "Well, it's apparently already been written," she said bitterly.

"Hey," he prompted, and finally took a glance around. "Let's get to the car."

He waited until the door slammed and they were at least slightly insulated from prying eyes. She was still tense, and he started the car to get the heater blowing at the very least.

There was a long pause as her lips darkened in the heat, her arms crossed over her chest.

"You don't have to do this, Emma. You don't have to trust Gol—"

"I don't trust him. But Graham, this is the right thing to do."

"We're getting in deep, now," he said softly. He leaned in and rested his fingertips along her jaw gently. "I just need to make sure you're keeping yourself safe as we chip away this curse."

She leaned into his touch, looking thoughtful. "That's why I keep you along for the ride," she said, teasing. She twisted to catch her lips against his skin. "Let me do this. It—Graham, if I can't get yours back in your chest quite yet, let me make sure she can't leverage anyone else in the same way."

He shut his eyes tightly and then nodded. "Okay. Okay, so long as we're smart about this. It's got to be together."

She nodded once, firmly. "Together."

Everything in his past would have pointed to it not being enough. Despite this, he felt almost optimistic.

Together, a savior and a wolf. This could work.

End.