Author's Note: In Chapter Three: Sneaks and Secrets, I introduced the character of Maid Marian, but described her as British, buxom, and blonde. I stand by making Marian British, because she should be, and her back-story with Robin may be different than in the show because everyone's is a bit in this AU, I should not have replaced the actress. Feel free to picture Christie Laing as Marian, just British. I will be describing her as thus from now on, and I would like to extend my sincerest apology to any POCs who were offended by the change.
Thank You To My New Beta: Esther-Channah. You should know by now how awesome I think you are. I am very grateful.
Chapter Eight: Scarlet Women and What They Do To Survive
How does he always manage to get himself into these bloody situations? Normally Belle would take point. She should have! But the appearance of the rider coming up the way implied a female courtier, not a male one. It wouldn't have done to run the normal gambit unless it was him.
He doesn't mind really. He loves tricking the rich and brainless and pinching them for all they're worth. It's the part where he has to stand in the water that's the problem.
Will has always been scared of the water. Penelope used to tease him about it, but his mother said it was nothing to be ashamed of. And he wasn't … much. And then, when Penelope went under the ice …
He and water don't have the best of histories. Belle had told him to just wade where he could stand and hide his unmentionables. It seemed simple enough, but he panicked and now he's in for it. He's under the water trying to get air to his lungs and bloody failing.
And then he feels arms come around him. Perhaps Belle saw him go under? Or maybe the carriage stopped and the lady's servants took pity on the poor drowning fool. He really can't care less. He just cares about getting out.
They break the surface, and he gasps for breath.
"This'll go quicker if you stop flailing about," an unfamiliar voice says. He tries to calm down; he's not in danger anymore. He goes still and rigid and the girl carries him to the surface.
"Master!" he hears Belle exclaim. At first he's confused, but then he remembers. Good on her for keeping character, he thinks. Must not have been too worried.
"Here, take my shawl. Sorry, I haven't any men's clothes with me, but it's something. Should cover you right up."
He takes the shawl and wraps it around him. It's nice material. These people clearly have funds! It'll be good eating for a couple nights for all of Sherwood.
Wait. Will starts, Did she say "my shawl?"
"Your shawl? Rather fancy for a servant, ainit?"
The girl makes a sound he has never heard before, but it is not unpleasant. "I'm no servant, sir. And you could say 'thank you'. I did just rescue you from drowning."
"Right, sorry." He looks up at her. She has a pretty face, kind of pale, but with very pink cheeks and deep dark lips. He can't tell what color her hair is, as it's soaking wet and plastered to her head. Could be brown or blonde. "It's just … I wouldn't think a lady would jump into the water in a nice dress."
"Just because I'm a lady doesn't mean I'm afraid to get my hands dirty. And I don't think the dress'll suffer much from being a little wet."
He looks down at her dress. It seems fancy enough, though it is hard to tell, as it is soaking like the rest of her. And it is clinging to her, making certain aspects of her figure very clear. His mouth waters a bit.
"No. Doesn't seem to have suffered at all."
He feels something light touch his chin and guide his head up. "I should slap you for looking, but it's not like I didn't see anything when I pulled you out of the water, so I suppose it is only fair. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to dry off and change. Maybe when I get back, you'll have found your manners."
She heads back to her carriage, and he can't quite help watching her from behind.
Then he hears someone clearing their throat. Belle.
"Yes, Kitty?" he asks, using the name they had come up with.
"The coachman was kind enough to offer a change of clothes for you, until we can find better."
Will nods, "I'll be right back then," he says taking the clothes from her and going behind some foliage.
Once they are both dressed, if not entirely dry, Will and the girl come out of their respective hiding places.
"My apologies for earlier," Will says, trying for his best posh accent, "I was overwhelmed and, well, underwater."
The girl says nothing.
"If I may present my Master, wet as he is, the Marquis of Carabas," Belle says, bowing slightly, "And, who might you be my lady?"
"Anastasia of Tremaine." The girl says, curtseying.
"Thank you for rescuing me," Will says, "I just went for a bit of a wash, and someone was off with my clothes, and then, before I knew it, I was under—"
"Yes, your maid was explaining to me about the clothes bit. She didn't mention the drowning bit, but I suppose that hadn't happened yet? Lucky I was riding by."
"Quite. Um, where are you headed?"
"Right," Belle cuts in, "Our carriage was also—"
"I'm heading back to Tremaine. There's a ball in some days' time and I was planning to attend."
"Tremaine! What a coincidence! I have lands all over between here and there. We could stop over—"
"I'm in quite a hurry… but, it is a few days' journey, and having lodgings would suit. You can accompany me. There is room in the carriage. I'll drop you off in your lands on the way."
"Wonderful!" Belle says. "We would love to pay you for your kindness, but all we have with us after those thieves took off is the clothes on my back. We'll reimburse you for anything we need to stop for. The Marquis will be needing proper clothes, though perhaps we should stop for some food first. I believe there's a shop—"
"I don't want to be detained too much. This ball is… quite important."
"Well, we best get goin' then." Will says. He holds his hand out to Anastasia, helping her into the carriage, "After you, my lady."
"You do have some manners then?" She says cheekily, but she smiles as she takes his hand. "Perhaps you wouldn't mind entertaining me as we pass the time. I want to hear all about Carabas."
"As the lady wishes."
The first thing Rosie saw was white.
Where am I?
Looking straight ahead, she saw a white wall. Well, more like cream, but still. It was white. And there was a beeping. She was lying down, and her hand felt strange.
"You're awake!"
She started. But she knew that voice. She looked over to find the handsome face of Sean Herman, the bartender at The Glass Slipper. He was looking at her with more interest and kindness than he ever had, and she found herself grateful for whatever had brought her to this room.
"Where …?" She started to cough. Sean got up from the chair by her bed. He was back in a minute with a cup of water, which he held to her lips. A part of her wanted to scream that she could feed herself, thank you very much, but the water was so good. She could feel Sean's thumb below her lip. That was good too.
"What happened?"
"What do you remember?"What did she remember? She'd gone out for a smoke and then … "It doesn't look like you remember much. I'm supposed to get a doctor and then the sheriff the second you wake up. Are you cool with that?"
"You … you're worried about me?"
"Geez, Rosie! When I found you, you were nearly … I mean, I thought you might be dead."
"You found me?"
"Unconscious and badly beaten behind The Glass Slipper," he said, nodding.
"And you … Thank you. For whatever you did." She looked around what she had now determined was a hospital room, "Was I … only allowed one visitor?" Sean shook his head, "Where's my mother? And my sister? They must be worried—"
"Yeah, they … they had to work." He avoided her eyes. "You how your mother is about that place. It's her pride and joy."
"Yes. Like the child she never had," Rosie said bitterly, "And my sister?"
"I guess your mother needed her. But I'm sure they'll be thrilled that you woke up."
Rosie nodded, "Well then, you mustn't waste time telling them. I'm sure they're just sick with worry. And best get a doctor. I don't know what I can tell the sheriff. I don't remember quite a lot." She turned away from him, feeling every bit the petulant child. "I find I'm quite tired suddenly," she said. It wasn't fair. It wasn't Sean's fault. He had saved her and, considering he was giving her the time of day for once, she should be relishing it. But she just didn't have the energy.
"I'll go do that then. But, Rosie, I'm glad you're okay."
"Thank you, Sean."
Emma was exhausted. She and Neal had gone through the classifieds pretty quickly. Apparently, Storybrooke had zero vacancies. There were a few want ads, and one person looking for a roommate, but that was it. No houses, no apartments, nothing. Neal said he would ask around, see if he could track down a local realtor, but things weren't looking good.
So, not much had actually happened, but the day had been emotionally exhausting. Emma didn't buy that there were exactly the amount of homes to accommodate exactly the amount of people living in Storybrooke and not a single extra person. If she could find somewhere, maybe boarded up or something, somewhere the town forgot … it would be a project, but they couldn't stay at Granny's forever. Henry needed his own room, as did her father-in-law, not to mention the home office that Emma was going to need to start up a social services center in this town that time forgot.
So she was meandering, walking around, making her way through the less-inhabited parts of town, and trying to ignore the strange looks she had been getting since she and her family had found their way to this hamlet.
She was checking out a series of buildings with a spacious parking lot when she noticed a car off the side, clearly trying to stay out of sight. Someone was slumped down in the back seat and nobody was up front.
In Emma's line of work, she had certainly seen people trying to survive by living out of their car. She'd been on her own herself a time or two in the first thirteen years of her life. It was a hard thing. Granted, if her efforts today were any indicator, finding housing in Storybrooke was next to impossible, but whoever it was should at least have been able to get a room at Granny's.
Cautiously, she approached the car, knocking on the backseat window.
A blonde head rose up out of a mess of blankets.
"Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you. Though you might not want to leave the window open while you're sleeping back there."
"Thanks for the tip," the girl said. She looked young, late teens, Emma guessed. She didn't look like she was on drugs or anything like that. She mostly just looked tired and kind of sad.
"If you don't mind me asking, why are you camping out here?"
The girl shook her head. "You wouldn't get it."
"Well, that's a pretty big assumption since you don't even know me. I'm Emma."
The girl looked at her for a second or two. "Ashley," she finally said.
"Can I join you back there, Ashley? Or maybe in the front seat? It's kind of hard to have a conversation like this."
Ashley nodded and climbed forward to unlock the front doors, seating herself in the driver's side. Emma got in shotgun.
Now that she'd shed the blankets, Emma could see how not homeless Ashley looked. She was dressed in nice, clean, and not altogether inexpensive clothes. She didn't look malnourished. But appearances could be deceiving.
"So, Ashley, why don't you tell me why you're out here?"
Ashley shook her head, "Have you ever had a choice to make where, the answer was so obvious, like it should be the easiest choice in the world, but you just can't make it?"
"Can't say I have. I tend to jump into things headfirst. It's not always the smartest thing in the world, though. Sometimes it's good to think things over." Ashley nodded at that but didn't say anything else. Emma smiled. After a minute or so Emma asked, "Wanna tell me what you're thinking over?"
"You're not from here," Ashley said, taking a good look at Emma.
"No. Just moved to town."
"I don't remember the last time someone new moved to town," Ashley said.
"Must be why the real estate sucks so much."
Ashley snorted. "I had a good place, you know? I was never the smartest or the best at stuff. I didn't want to deal with my stepmom or stepsisters, so I moved out. I was a high school dropout on my own, so it should have sucked, but it didn't. I found someone who … who was nice to me. He's a widower and he needed a live-in nanny to take care of his kid. And I loved his kid so much. I really … I really love kids. And the guy, he was older, charming, British … he took care of me. And I could go back. He'd take care of me again, just like before. All I have to do is … is walk through those doors."
Ashley pointed to what looked like some kind of medical clinic.
"He said I could come back. He'll even pay for the … procedure. But he has a reputation in this town. I'm his nanny and … people would talk. It's only been a few days since I took the test and told him, and I've just been sitting out here, staring at that building, trying to talk myself into it."
Emma nodded as she processed what she was being told. "You're boss … he's the father." Ashley nodded. "And if you don't have the procedure …?" Emma prodded.
"I'm out on the street. I don't exactly have any savings. I know I should, but I didn't think I needed … " Tears started to stream down Ashley's cheeks.
Emma reached out and pulled the girl into a hug. "Hey, shhhh," she said, rubbing the scared girl's back.
"I don't know if I can … but if I don't, I have nothing. And it … it won't have anything either. Once I get out of this car, once I make a decision … I just don't know,"
"It'll be okay. I can help you. Have you considered seeking legal action?"
Ashley laughed through her tears, "He's the only lawyer around here. And he always wins his cases. I'm just some nothing girl."
"Ashley, do you want to keep the baby?"
"I … I wish I … I don't, I …"
"Hey, hey, it's okay. You don't have to answer right now. Why don't you come with me to Granny's? I'll get you something to eat?"
"Not Granny's. I can't face seeing anyone I know."
"Well, I'm guessing you know this town better than me. Where would you suggest? Anywhere. My treat."
Ashley nodded, gave a determined little nod of her chin and put her hands firmly on the wheel, "Buckle up. I'll drive us there."
"There's never anything, is there?"
Mary Margaret shook her head. She was scanning the wants ads on the corkboard at Storybrooke Community Center. There was pretty much never anything, but she had to try.
Apparently, the guy next to her had to try too. She'd seen him here before, she thought, though she couldn't seem to place him. She was surprised at herself. He didn't look like someone she thought she would easily forget. His hair was brown and lush and he looked like an athlete. She wondered how much he could lift.
"I swear, sometimes I hate this town."
"The mayor takes care of us," Mary Margaret said faithfully.
"Yeah. Of course. She's awesome but … I mean, don't you ever want something more?"
"You mean like adventure? Only every day of my life. But it isn't in the cards for me."
"Yeah. Me neither. I was supposed to go to college on a sports scholarship. Thought I'd become a pro. All it takes is one injury though and all your dreams …" he made a noise like a dive-bombing.
Mary Margaret laughed, "Well, I guess you have to try and find what adventures you can around here, not that I can think of any." The guy eyed her up and down and Mary Margaret flushed under his gaze.
"I can think of one. I'm Hank."
She shook his hand. It was firm and made her swoon a little, "Mary Margaret."
"Well, Mary Margaret, how would you like to meet me down by the beach for an adventure tonight?"
"Why wait? It's not like either of us has a job to get to. I'll even race you."
"Racing … I can't so much do that anymore. But I can give us a ride; I've got an old rig out front."
"Sold. Let's get out of here."
"I guess the curse makes this place really backwards. Works in our favor though," Henry said, as he and his grandfather posted an ad for a tutor up on the notice board at the community center. Henry had made it on his laptop the night before and then charmed Granny into letting him use the printer at the inn. He still had to email it to himself and use the office computer, because Storybrooke apparently didn't have wi-fi, but it was better than waiting for the library to open.
The ad was simple enough. It gave instructions on how to contact his grandfather via email or phone and his tutoring availability. It was always good to have a way to make some quick cash, but more than this, Henry was hoping it would be an excuse for them to meet people. They needed to get to know the residents of Storybrooke so they could start figuring out who belonged to which story and how to help restore their happy endings.
It was kind of frustrating, actually. Henry was studying the book, but he didn't know these people, and anything could be a clue. He figured Granny was probably the grandmother from Little Red Riding Hood because, well, that seemed kind of obvious. That meant Ruby was Red, probably. The names worked. Everyone else was a question mark. More than anyone, Henry wanted to know who Aria was. She always seemed so sad and she was his friend. Of course he wanted everybody to get their happy ending back, but especially hers.
Then there were the other bits of the story he had suspicions about. Things he was starting to think but not letting himself truly explore yet.
"Thank you for accompanying me, Henry," his grandfather said, "I daresay it'll be rather boring, but—"
"Grandpa, come on. Identification, remember? This is important, and until I start school, I can help."
Now that it was decided that Henry would be attending Storybrooke Elementary after his try-out day, they had to wait for his paperwork to transfer over. In the meantime, he was on break, free to focus on Operation Cobra.
"Yes, I would like to take another look at that book of yours."
Henry nodded. He'd shown it to his grandfather a couple of times now, but he'd never really let it leave his hands. Somehow he knew that he needed to protect it and keep it safe. And then there was the other reason nagging at him.
So, yeah, his grandfather hadn't read the thing cover to cover like he had. He did plan to let him, of course, but maybe he took a little pride in being the expert in something for once. Was that so wrong?
Graham Humbert had had far better days. In a town where nothing ever happened, he was suddenly investigating a series of attacks.
Was it a series? After all, three points was a pattern; two was just a line. Which was better, one perpetrator or two? Two getting away with a crime seemed worse than one, but if it was one and more than once, that meant it was likely to happen again.
Unless Graham caught the guy, of course. Except he'd never led an investigation like this before and, as of now, he had very little to go on. Aria had barely seen her attacker, and Rosie didn't seem much better.
"It's all a little foggy. It was a man; I'm certain of that. He grabbed me from behind and then he … I only saw him for a minute and he had his face good and covered. He wasn't taller than me, I don't think."
"What was his face covered with? Do you remember what he was wearing?"
"I …" she brought her hands up to her face, wincing slightly, "I can't quite recall. And I don't want to!"
"Rosie—"
"I don't want to do this anymore! Isn't it bad enough that I had to live through it once?"
"Yes. Which is exactly why we don't want someone else living through it. I need to catch this man—"
"Then catch him with my blessing. Beat the bastard bloody for all I care, but do not make me go back into that alley again!"
"You're upsetting the patient," a nearby nurse said.
"I'm sorry. Really. But I need answers if I'm going to find -"
"I'll let you know if I recall anything. For now just … just let me rest, please?"
Graham sighed, but nodded, "Feel better, Rosie. I'm sorry this happened to you."
They were able to talk Anastasia into stopping a time or two. They bought clothes for Will, which they could sell later, and food for the feast they were to have when they reached the property. And Will talked to Anastasia. She was … charming, in her way. She shot him coy smiles every now and then. And he couldn't quite forget the way she had looked soaked from head-to-toe.
She was, however, different from when they'd first met her. Her harsher edges seemed smoothed over now. Her eyes didn't flash with anger and her voice didn't rise nearly as often. She showed genuine interest in Will as he spun her a tale of his life as the Marquis of Carabas. It felt nice to have her fuss over him, but also off somehow. Will wasn't sure what he was feeling. He supposed it didn't matter. There was a script to follow, and he would follow it.
They reached a rather large estate in no time. Robin had been sure that the place would be good and empty so they could lodge for the night, nick food, and keep up the pretense that Will was a somebody. They'd rob the place, and Anastasia's carriage. They might even rob her home if they could learn enough about her whereabouts.
"Welcome, m'lady, to my humble abode. Well, one of 'em, at any rate."
Will held out his hand and helped Anastasia down from the carriage, "It's marvelous," she said, her face lighting up. She had a nice smile, Will noticed. It was just little things he was noticing, like her smile and her figure. She wasn't Will's type, not that he had a type, but if he did, he didn't think it would be a spoiled girl with a carriage and lands.
Sure, she dove in after him. Most spoiled girls wouldn't do that. But that didn't mean anything really. This was just a simple job with a simple girl.
"Your coat, sir," Little John said, taking Will's coat. "And I see you've met a fair maiden."
Anastasia blushed and curtseyed. "And who might you be?"
"Just a humble servant, ma'am, but the Marquis treats us well. Come, sit by the fire while the cooks prepare a feast for you."
"They seem to think highly of you."
"Indeed they do. I treat them as best as I can." He led her to the fireplace. "Have a seat."
"I'll admit I didn't think much of you when I drew you from the water. But you seem quite impressive now."
"Didn't think much of me?"
"Please don't take offense. I just … you were naked and drowning in a stream one could easily wade in. Not the best first impression."
"And you saved me life, which was quite the best first impression."
Marian came by with a jug of water, "For your washing, sir and lady," she said, placing the bowl down.
"Now that you mention it, I'd like to wash up and change before supper. Marquis, would you be so kind as to show me to my chambers?"
Will nodded, "Of course. Mar- uh, May, I uh, which room do you think—?"
"Just the one up those stairs and to the left should do nicely, Sir."
Will nodded, exhaling in relief. He led Anastasia up the stairs to the room Marian indicated. "How nice," she remarked. "Kitty must have brought my things."
"Yeah. She's good like that."
"You're very kind to your servants. Has anyone ever told you that?"
Will shrugged, "If I'm not, who will be?"
"Tell me, is there a marchioness?" Anastasia asked, her eyes wide and her lips almost pouting.
"Uh, no, not as of yet. I haven't, er, found the right match."
She smiled then and before Will knew what was happening, her lips were on his. Just as soon as they were there, they were gone, but in that second, Will had felt something. He couldn't quite describe it. It was …. It was like a spark of some kind, or a lot of sparks burning and exploding in his head. He'd never felt anything like it.
He looked up, but Anastasia had already retreated to her rooms and closed the door. Will smiled to himself as he made his way down to the kitchen. A good con indeed.
"Do you have an appointment?" the receptionist asked nervously. Except, she wasn't a receptionist. She was the freaking Blue Fairy! Neal knew that, but did she? She probably didn't. She hadn't seemed to recognize him when he had corned her the other day. She had seemed a little scared of him, which, okay, was fair and probably explained why she was looking at him the way she was now. But what else was he to do?
"I'd like to make one, to talk with Dr. Drake. Or is it Miss Drake? I've heard both."
"It's doctor, usually, but I allow some to call me Ms. when it suits me. You, however, are not one of those people," a tall blonde woman said as she exited the office marked simply 'Drake'. "I don't believe we've been introduced. Who exactly are you and why are you scaring my receptionist?"
"Neal Stilskin, Dr. Drake. I'm an RN. My family is moving here and I was hoping I could leave a job application with you. I heard you're kind of a bigwig at the hospital, not to mention this clinic."
Dr. Drake nodded, "That's true, yes, but we don't have any openings right now."
"Right. Sure. I just hoped—"
"Did it not occur to you to find employment before moving?"
"It's kind a long story, but the move was a bit … impulsive."
"Yes, that's what I hear."
"Look, I've got references. Great ones. And I've got an NLC from Massachusetts. I renewed this year, so I'm good on my licensing until my next birthday. And I'm sure you have great people, but can you ever really have too many health professionals who want to help people? I'm good at what I do, so use me. Here, or at the hospital, or tell me about the other clinics in the area."
Dr. Drake looked at him for a moment, "Well, I suppose I'll see what I can do. Leave your resume and references. I'll look at them when I get the chance, if I get the chance."
"Thank you."
Neal headed out, but he paused once he was out of sight. He was here for a job, sure, but Emma had a job too, one she didn't even know about yet. Henry had said that if they wanted to help her, they needed to learn about this town. So Neal stopped and listened.
"I wouldn't hire that man if I were you," the Blue Fairy/receptionist said.
"And why is that?"
"Well, he seems to be a little … unhinged."
"And you seem to be a little chatty today. I do believe this is the longest conversation we've had in a good long while. Usually, you avoid meeting my eyes." There was a ruffle of folders. "Oh, don't shy away now. I'm rather curious about this new aspect of your personality. I'm rather curious about a lot of things."
"So … you're going to hire him, then?"
There was a pause, "You'd best return to work. I have some phone calls to make."
Mary Margaret sighed in contentment. She hadn't had that good a time in … well, frankly, she didn't remember the last time. It had certainly been a while.
"We never made it to the beach," Hanks said beside her in the backseat of his 'old rig,' as he called it.
"I'm not complaining."
She felt him shrug. "Me neither. Just saying … we'll have to make it to the beach sometime."
Now she sat up, looking him in the eyes. He had nice eyes. They were familiar to her, somehow. "Okay, so, what just happened here was great, but I just want to make sure we're clear on a few things before we go any further." Hank nodded and she continued. "This is no epic romance. There'll be no talk of true love, or settling down and spending our lives together. This is going to be fun, exciting, an adventure … and when it stops being that, we will part amicably with no drama."
Hank smirked, "Well, what guy in his right mind would say no to that?"
"You'd be surprised," Mary Margaret said with a sigh, taking her place next to him again. They sat like that for a minute or two.
"Out of curiosity, who was he?"
"Who was who?"
"The guy who turned you off to true love and all that comes with it."
Mary Margaret snorted, "It was nothing so tragic as that. I just think that true love belongs in fairy tales. Someday my prince will come … and tell me how to live my life. I don't want to stay at home with a brood of children while he goes off to rule the kingdom. I want a life of adventure. Sure, that hasn't turned out how I wanted. I'm unemployed and my living situation could be … better, but I'm not going to run to a man to solve all my problems."
"Got it. I swear, the only problem I'll come anywhere near is when you need an … exercise partner."
She laughed. "Glad we understand each other."
"We're not breaking in, are we?" Emma asked, shifting uncomfortably. She had broken into places before, but it had been a while. The other day at the Scathes didn't count of course.
"Not exactly," Ashley said as she retrieved a hide-a-key from a false brick in the wall adjacent to the door. "It's kind of a family business."
The door slid open and Ashley motioned for Emma to go ahead. "This is the service entrance," Ashley said. "The kitchen's nice enough. My stepmother wouldn't settle for anything less than immaculate when it comes to keeping it clean."
Emma nodded, surveying the place, "It is a pretty clean kitchen. But couldn't we just come in as customers? I told you, it's on me."
Ashley shook her head, "It's not open right now, but it's no big deal. I know where everything is. Now, how do you like your grilled cheese?" she asked, as she gathered an assortment of ingredients from the refrigerator.
"I'm not picky."
Ashley smiled, "Me neither. Roland likes his cut up into triangles. We call them arrowheads."
"Roland? Is he—?"
"The kid I nanny for," Ashley said, putting a chunk of butter in the frying pan and turning on the gas. "He's adorable, always trying to prove he's one of the big kids. And me, I'm just a big kid myself, playing at being an adult most of the time." Ashley's hand went up to cover her nose and mouth, her eyes closing tightly."I'mtightly. "I'm only nineteen and I have no clue what I'm doing. I mean, how am I supposed to—?"
"Hello?" a voice called, "Who's there? I'm armed!" a youngish blonde man stepped out, holding what appeared to be an axe.
"It's … it's Ashley. Ashley Boyd. I'm … my stepmother owns this place." Ashley was standing up straight and trying to look brave. Emma almost bought it too. Almost.
But the guy put the axe down. "Ashley, what the hell? I could've … Jesus, what were you thinking?" Ashley bit her lip, seemingly unsure what to say. "You don't remember me, do you?"
"I … no, I'm sorry."
"Sean Herman. We went to high school together. I started working the bar after graduation."
"Right. Of course. Sean Herman."
"You don't have to pretend. We weren't exactly friends or anything."
Ashley looked down, "Sorry, I just … you're probably wondering what I'm doing here."
"Seeing as your stepmom would probably not like you being here, yeah, thought crossed my mind."
"I just needed a safe place to grab a bite. We'll leave money—"
"We?" Sean seemed to notice Emma for the first time, "Right. You. Who are you?"
"She's a friend. And I'm family. This place should be mine by all rights."
"Should be, maybe, but it isn't." Ashley looked ready to cry again, "I'm not going to kick you out or turn you in; I know you didn't mean anything. Still, you set off the silent alarm, so—"
"So, just don't say anything," Ashley said, cautiously approaching Sean. She put her hand on his arm and gave him what Emma could only describe as Bambi eyes, jutting her lip out just a bit. "Come on, Sean, please."
Sean stared at Ashley for a beat or two and then coughed awkwardly as he looked away. "You mind throwing another grilled cheese on there?"
Ashley clapped her hands like a child and Emma couldn't help but feel sad for the girl. She was already putting together a profile in her head. Each person was different, of course, but she'd seen Ashley's type before. Girls who thought they had to be a combination of a helpless child and a sexual object in order to get anything in life; girls who didn't think they had anything to offer other than their looks and their girlish giggles.
As a pre-teen, Emma had hated girls like that. Now she knew that it was so much more complicated. And so was Ashley. Because she could just get rid of what was growing in her stomach and go back to living off a rich lawyer, but she had spent days deliberating. And the way she talked about Roland was how Emma talked about Henry.
She needed to help this girl. And Aria. And Mary Margaret. How had these women all found a way to be helpless and alone in this tiny town in Maine?
Anastasia was seated across from Will and he kept trying to catch her eye. It wasn't easy, but when he did, she would smile and her whole face would light up and Will would feel a pool of something in his stomach.
"She's quite the mark," Robin said to him when he pretended to be checking on things in the kitchen.
"Yeah. She is that."
"And I hope that's all she is."
"What's that mean, then?" Will asked as the Merry Men busied themselves with the feast.
"Just be careful, Will. Getting stuck on a mark can be dangerous."
"I don't know what you're on about. Stuck on. Honestly."
Robin exchanged a look with Marian, "She was polite enough to me," Marian said, "More than some courtiers would be, at least. But she clearly still sees me as beneath her. She'll see you as the same. Not to mention, we plan to rob her blind."
"Yeah. Course we do. We might wait a day or two, though. I mean, this is goin' well, ain't it? Fun and feast and all that?"
"We don't steal for us, Will. And it's best not to push our luck."
"What does Belle think of your new companion?" Marian asked diplomatically.
"They seem to get on well enough. What's with all the questions? You know, never mind. I'm goin' back out there."
"He's a fool," Marian said in a tone Will didn't like. He decided to ignore her and pretend he didn't hear. He also missed Robin saying, "We're all fools when it happens."
"Lovely talking with you," Anastasia was saying to Belle as Will approached. He smiled, watching them sitting there by the fire.
Belle stood, making room for Will, "I'll just get back to my chores, then," she said, making herself scarce.
Will sat down next to Anastasia, handing her one of two wine glasses.
"Nice of you to join me," she greeted him. "I feel like I've spent the whole night speaking with servants."
"And you're too good for that, are you?" Will asked, smiling.
"Perhaps. But servants or no, you are the one I wanted to talk to."
"Why's that then?"
She smiled shyly. "Is there someone set for you? Someone your parents picked out, perhaps?"
"My parents are dead. It's just me here, and them," he said, motioning to the kitchen.
"Surely you need someone to take care of you."
"They take care of me fine. Practically family," he said, smiling as he took a sip.
"Well, they can't take care of everything. You are a man. You must have … needs."
Will spit out his wine. "I uh, I mean, yeah, but—"
He didn't know what to follow that up with. So he just sat dumbstruck.
"Mother wants to fix me up as well. She knows that I'm lonely, of course, but a lady must be very careful when she picks out a match. Someone who is well suited; that's important. And … someone kind. You've been kind to me."
"You saved my life, so that makes you kind first, right?"
Anastasia laughed, a pretty tinkling kind of sound. "I wasn't very nice to you."
"No. But that's okay."
"We could be nice to each other. Do you think?"
"I… Yeah, sure."
"So what are you waiting for? Ask me."
"Ask you … ?"
"You want someone around to be kind to you, don't you? I could be, if you were kind to me. I'd be honored to be Anastasia of Carlabas."
"You … you want me to … you want to marry me?" Will asked, incredulous.
She smiled, jumping up and spilling her wine. "I do. Very much," she said, pulling him towards her. "Oh, mother will be pleased."
And before Will could speak or think, she was kissing him again. It was different this time. It wasn't quick and sweet like before. It spoke of promises that Will had no idea how to make.
"Meet me in my chambers later," she whispered huskily in his ear, and Will felt himself suddenly very up. "I want to thank you."
She scurried off after saying that, and Will just stared after her, wondering what had just happened.
He had almost gone over to say hi when he saw Mary Margaret, but then he'd seen that look in her eye. It wasn't one he'd seen often, not on her, but he'd seen it, he knew what it meant, and he knew it wasn't for him.
He didn't know Hank, the man she went off with, very well, but he did know a little. As sheriff, it was his business to know everybody a little. Besides, it wasn't that hard to know everybody in a small town like Storybrooke. Until those newcomers came around. He had eyes on two right now; the older man and the little boy were putting up ads on the public service boards. He would go check what the ads were for once they moved on.
It wasn't that he wanted to be suspicious of these new people. It was just that everything had been fine and then they had shown up. Now a mysterious assailant had attacked two women. It couldn't be a coincidence.
Rosie seemed to think her attacker was male, which lined up with what Aria had told him. Still, he wasn't ruling anything out.
He noted that the older man walked with a limp. That could make a difference. He tried to go over the statement he had just taken in his head. Rosie was attacked from behind. If he'd disabled her fast enough, he might have overcome his handicap. But the man was not his main suspect, nor the child, nor the woman. That left one.
It was nearly time to check in with the Mayor to go over Rosie's statement and see how she wanted him to proceed. First though, he had a phone call to make.
"Well, if it isn't my stalker." Neal turned at the voice and saw Jamie smiling at him.
He had been on his way back to talk to Emma to see if she had any progress to report on the home-finding front. He didn't expect anything, of course. This town had been created with its existing people in mind, and they all had homes. And those who didn't weren't supposed to, as far as this Evil Queen Henry mentioned was concerned. There would be just the right amount of homes. Maybe, if they could find some land, they could build something, but that would take a lot of time and money. He wasn't sure what they were going to do, really. Was curse-breaking supposed to be this hard?
"Stalker, huh?"
"It suits. But don't worry, I bear you no ill will. In fact, I come bearing coffee."
She handed him a cup. It didn't smell like his usual order, but he appreciated the gesture. Still, if she'd brought him coffee, that meant—"You were looking for me?"
"Role-reversal, isn't it? Yes, I was. We haven't had a chance to talk since that night your wife jumped to the wrong conclusion."
"We talked in your office about Henry. I'm sorry about that, by the way. Emma—"
"I wouldn't expect her to trust me. I know how it must have looked to her. Though I can't help but wonder why you wouldn't share your suspicions with her about us being related, even if you don't believe it anymore."
Neal shrugged, "It's complicated, my family history. I love Emma, but my past … I've never really felt like I could share that. I mean, it isn't that I didn't want to. It was just … complicated. She didn't need to know about a maybe-relative that turned out to be nothing."
"And you're still sure about that? That we aren't? Because before you seemed pretty sure—"
"I was desperately searching for something. I've lost family. Emma and I, we both have. And it isn't like her and pop and Henry aren't enough. They are. But sometimes … so I'm looking. But she doesn't need to know until I find something and can show it to her."
"So, you didn't end up in Storybrooke by accident."
"Would you believe me if I said it was fate?"
Jamie laughed, "Not really, no," she said, before taking a sip of her own coffee.
"We agreed to be friends, right?"
"So long as your wife doesn't chop me up and bury the body."
Neal laughed, "I actually could picture her doing that to someone. She's pretty tough. But I'll make sure she doesn't. And you'll like her. You two will get along, once we get over this awkwardness."
"You don't know me so well. What makes you so sure I'll make a good friend for your wife? Or you, for that matter?"
"Call it a gut thing."
She nodded, "Well, I just came to drop that off and … clear the air. You have my contact information. Or Emma does, on those forms for Henry's schooling. Next time, maybe try calling instead of mysteriously showing up behind me."
"Will I lose the nickname then?"
She chuckled. "Perhaps. We'll see. Good day, Neal."
"We need to talk."
Jack turned at Aria's voice, but he didn't get off the couch or anything. She didn't really expect him to. And she knew her voice shook. And she was terrified. But they needed to talk about this. And she thought about the heroes in Henry's Storybook and about Emma encouraging her. Maybe, for a minute, she could be brave.
"Sheriff Graham just called. He told me there's been another attack." Jack just stared at her uncomprehendingly. "Another woman," she continued. "He thinks it's the same man that attacked me except … except we both know that isn't possible. Unless … is it?"
"Are you accusing me of something?"
"I—"
"You think I just go after some woman?"
"You go after me," Aria said, as she tried and failed to meet his eyes.
"You're my wife!"
"And that makes it alright then? Because I'm your wife? Do you … do you even remember why we got married, Jack? Do you even remember a time when we loved each other?"
Now it was Jack avoiding her gaze. "I can't. Not really, no."
"Then, what are we doing?" she asked, taking a seat next to him on the couch.
"I don't know," Jack said, putting his head down. "I just know you're my wife. But I can't love you right. And nothing feels right. And … and I know you won't believe me, but I swear to ya, I didn' attack nobody else."
"So, I suppose I'm just special then," Aria said quietly.
"There must've been a time when we meant somethin' to each other. When you thought I was a good man." Jack looked at her, his eyes filled with a lost sort of hopefulness she had never seen before.
"I don't remember. But if there was … then what happened?"
Jack shook his head, "I think … that I need a good strong drink. Maybe you should … go out. Before I get too drunk. Maybe you should go out."
Aria stared at him, "Are you saying … ? All right, I'll take a walk, see where I end up."
"And just where are you going?" Belle asked him.
"Me. I was … just going to turn in."
"And where were you planning on doing that?"
Will shrugged. "Does it matter?"
Belle shook her head. "Will, don't do this."
"I don't know what—"
"I heard you two talking. She thinks you proposed to her. I'd be willing she's waiting up there for you to … take advantage."
"Believe me, she has the advantage. I don't even know what's happening."
"So let me explain it to you. Come on." Belle took his hand and Will found himself being led away from where he most wanted to go.
"I know you like her, Will."
"Yeah, well, she's attractive, ain't she? Plus she saved me life. And … and she likes me."
"She likes the Marquis of Carabas."
"Right, okay, but that's me, ainit?"
Belle shook her head, "Will, before the ogres came, before the destruction of Avonlea and life on the run and with the Merry Men, I was a lady, just like her. I know how it works. She doesn't have much of value. Men have lands and money but all a girl has that is worth anything to anybody is her virtue."
"Her … you mean —?"
"That girl wants to marry a man who can offer her something and he'll expect her to be a maid when he does. If she isn't, it could ruin her."
"So, you're saying I shouldn't —"
"You like her, and she seems to like you. I believe in love. If she knew the truth … if you tell her —"
"That would put everything on the line."
"Then you can't do anything."
"But she … she wants it. And I want it. Gods, Belle, you don't know, the things it does to me when she gets close and lets me know she wants it, if you were a man—"
"Oh, don't give me that. Women feel that way too, but you can't just … deflower her and leave her. She thinks she's getting a rich husband with lands. If you really care for her, then she needs to know who you are and what you can offer her. Maybe it'll be enough. And if this is just about … getting off, then Will, that's not fair to her. And you are better than that."
Will groaned, putting his head in his hands.
"Yes, yes, groan all you want, but I know you're a good man. You'll do the right thing. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm heading to my chambers for the night. I suggest you do the same."
Will wanted to growl at her. Much as he loved Belle, he really hated her sometimes. But she was right, wasn't she? He barely knew Anastasia, but he liked her well enough to know she didn't deserve to have her prospects ruined. And he couldn't tell her. Robin would skin him alive if Marian didn't get in first.
Dejected, Will made his way to a chamber on the other side of the estate. He had a feeling it was going to be a long night.
"Lord, he was the worst, wasn't he? I could never get away with anything," Ashley said through her chuckle.
"Please, you got away with everything. You always did." Sean's tone was teasing. It wasn't cruel teasing. He looked at her with a smile in his eyes. But Ashley sobered just the same.
"You mean, because I slept with him?"
Sean's mouth flopped open, "I – I – I didn't mean, I wasn't—"
"Oh, please. You think I don't know what people said about me back in high school? The loose cheerleader with daddy issues?"
His eyes got gentler. "It wasn't fair, what happened to your father."
Ashley shook her head, "I'm not blaming … Look. I know the rumors. And maybe … maybe some of them were true. Maybe, sometimes, I do the easiest thing for a girl like me to do. But when was the last time someone wanted me to do something else, to be something else?"
Sean didn't say anything, so Emma, who had been more or less quiet as the old classmates reminisced, felt she had to. "When everybody expects you to be a certain way, it can be really hard not to live down to expectations. I get that. I've been there. But they also say the best revenge is a life well-lived. Sometimes it's just a matter of proving them wrong, of stepping up and making people see you the way you want them to. And sometimes, if you're lucky you'll find someone who sees you, really sees you. It takes a lot of patience and false starts, but you can get there. Especially if you have people to help you."
"Is this you offering to help me?" Ashley asked, looking so very young and so very old all at the same time.
"I already offered. I haven't rescinded. I want to help you, Ashley. I will."
"How? How could you possibly help me?"
Before Emma could answer, a noise came from the entrance. All three of them started. Then a flashlight stabbed at their eyes.
"Hands where I can see them," an accented voice said.
"Shit," Ashley said.
"I did warn you about the silent alarm."
"Sean?" Graham said, aiming the light at him. "That you?"
"Yeah. Hi, Sheriff. I can … I can vouch for these … these people are friends."
Graham came into view, "Sorry Sean, but you're an employee, not a the owner. I'm going to have to put a call to your boss about trespassers."
"I'm Ashley Boyd. This was my father's place. I … have a stake in it." Ashley said.
"Your father's been dead for quite some time, Miss Boyd, and I believe you emancipated yourself years ago."
"I did. But I kept my stake. I have a stake in this place." Ashley was lying. Emma could tell. But Graham seemed to be wavering. "We just came in to have a bite, maybe a drink. We're having sandwiches now. We'll clean up and go when we're done."
"Don't you have more important things to worry about now, sheriff?" Sean asked, "Like what happened to Rosie? What are you doing about that?"
Ashley's face paled, "What happened to Rosie?"
"You didn't hear? There was another attack. She's in the hospital."
"Oh my god." Ashley said, right as Emma interjected, "That's not possible."
"What do you mean by that, Mrs. Stilskin?" Graham asked.
Emma sighed. "Nothing. I'm just surprised. This doesn't seem like the kind of town where that kind of thing happens."
"But you're not. from. here." Graham said, emphasizing each word, as he encroached on Emma's personal space.
"Is this where you break into a chorus of 'Not One Of Us?' I didn't know small towns could be so xenophobic."
"How is she?" Ashley asked, drawing Graham's attention back to her. "Rosie, is she—?"
"She's pretty badly beaten, but she should be okay."
"That's true," Sean added. "But I'll bet it would mean the world to her if someone from her family actually gave a damn."
"I haven't been family for a long time," Ashley said, looking down.
"No time like the present to make up for that. I could take you … if you want." Ashley looked to Emma to Sean to Graham, and seemed to make a decision.
"I'll have to lock up first. Emma, you mind taking that sandwich to go?"
Emma shrugged, "I was basically done anyway."
Ashley nodded, "Okay then. Let's get out of here."
Ashley replaced the key and Sean took care of the security. "Listen, I know you have a lot going on," Emma said, "But if you need a friend, here's my cell number. I … really think we should finish our talk."
Ashley nodded. "Me too. Thanks."
She and Sean headed in the direction of his car.
"Well, I guess I'm off," Emma said.
"Why don't I walk you? Make sure you don't break in anywhere else."
"And why would I let you do that?" Emma asked, "You haven't exactly endeared yourself to me since I met you."
Graham nodded, "Fair point. But I'm really just trying to do my job, find out what is going on with these attacks."
"By making me uncomfortable?"
"No, just … Look, I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable. I've never worked a case like this. And it's killing me that it happened under my watch."
"And it's easy to blame the outsider."
"Yeah. It is. But why don't … why don't we forget that tonight? Why don't you just let me walk you home because women are being attacked and, as much as you seem like the type who can handle herself, it can be good to have someone watching your back."
Emma sighed, "I guess I could use the company."
It was supposed to be a favor for Mary Margaret. Well, really, it was a favor for his wife. David could care less about Mary Margaret. But despite her sister's insistence on never changing, never growing up, Selena wanted her to have chances. So David had set up the interview. It was for an office job, which he knew wasn't Mary Margaret's style, but it was something. He wasn't really surprised when he heard she'd flaked on it. That woman wouldn't know dependability if it bit her in the ass. This time though, it was his word on the line. So he went out to find her. It didn't take too long either. She was leaving the most ridiculous vehicle he had ever seen, followed shortly after by a man he vaguely recognized from around town. Something in his stomach dropped. What was she doing?
Without even giving it another thought, he followed after her. Once her … whatever he was to her was out of sight, David called her name out.
Mary Margaret turned to him. She didn't even look guilty, "What do you want, David? I'm on my way home."
"On your way home after flaking out on that interview, I set up for you?"
"What interview?"
"Selena told you about it. It's something at my office."
"I'm hardly an accountant."
"It's for a secretary job. I know you think such things are beneath you, but it's a job! For you to flake when I stuck my neck out for you so you could, what, hop into the backseat of a truck with the first guy you could find—"
"Are you spying on me?"
"No! I just … I saw you."
"And now, you're judging me. What a surprise. Goodnight, David."
"We're not done talking about this. You should have gone to that interview, instead of —"
"I don't know hat interview you're talking about! And what I do with my free time is none of your business! You have no right to pass judgment on my life!"
"If you'd just try—"
"I have been trying! I have been trying so hard for so long and nothing works and nothing sticks. You get Selena. You get your kids. You get your stable job, which you actually enjoy because you are the single dullest person on the planet. But I don't have any of that. My family is dead, except for my sister—and you like to make me feel guilty for spending time with her like you own her. I had her first and I lost her.
I've lost everyone and everything that ever mattered to me. And you're right, I would hate working in an office, but I would take the job if they hired me because I am so desperate for work you can't even imagine. And maybe life got harder than I thought it would. And maybe I gave up a little. But how is it that a stranger who barely knows me has shown me more kindness in a week than my supposed family has for longer than I can remember?
You like to make me feel guilty because I'm not perfect, but nobody is perfect, David, not even my sister, and certainly not you. I never pretended to be more than I am. I just need someone to give me a break."
David stood there, stunned. He'd gone off on Mary Margaret before, and she certainly hadn't just sat there and let him, but this was more than anger. He'd never seen her look so lost, so broken. He noticed she was crying and a part of him wanted to say something to comfort her. But how could he?
"I have to go home. Tell my sister I'm sorry. Goodnight, David."
"Well, that was quite a show." He turned, startled, to find Aria Scathe watching him.
"Hi. Sorry. My sister and I … have a complicated relationship."
"Don't we all?"
David decided to switch gears, "How are you? You shouldn't be out here on your own."
"Because of the second attack?"
"There was a second attack? I hadn't heard. God, what is happening in this town?"
Aria shook her head, "Maybe we're finally realizing that Storybrooke is no more perfect than the rest of the world. People don't want to admit when things are different from what they always thought, especially if it's in a bad way."
"I don't think that's … I know this is a good place. My wife has worked hard to make this the best place to live."
"And yet there is so much unhappiness just on this very street. I'm still recovering from the first attack, and it sounds like Mary Margaret has been dealing with quite a bit, too."
"She sounded sincere enough … but somehow I can't help but think the worst of her."
"A lot of the men in Storybrooke leave a lot to be desired. I'd hate to think you're one of them."
"What are you saying?"
"Maybe she just needs a friend."
He hadn't known why he did it, giving Aria the out he had. Just like he didn't know what he was doing here. Because he hadn't done anything. He was sure of that.
Yes, he'd hit Aria. But he'd always … she deserved … didn't she? But the memory seemed to war with something in him, something like a bad dream.
Was he really the type of man she'd think would just go around hitting innocent strangers? What type of man was he?
The mayor trusted him. He was her right hand. But she didn't love him. She had never looked at him the way he wanted her to. He couldn't remember a time when anyone had. Aria never had, had she? She asked why they had married, why they were together. He didn't know. Nothing made sense. Nothing had made sense for a long time.
Just like what he was doing at the hospital didn't make any sense. It wasn't hard to find out who was attacked, or what room she was staying in. It should have been, but all he had to do was state his position as the mayor's right hand and doors opened. They always had. It felt nice to have power, didn't it?
The girl who was attacked was named Rosalie Boyd, Rosie for short. The name didn't ring a bell, but as he made his way to her room, a pit seemed to form in his stomach.
He pushed the door open slowly, but he didn't enter. He could see her just fine from where he was. She was sleeping and she didn't show any signs of waking. She did fidget though and wince. He imagined it was because she was in pain. The bruises on her face were far from flattering. There weren't many, though. He imagined that maybe she had more wounds lower down. He imagined she'd been kicked in the stomach or something. He imagined she'd been kicked over and over.
If he looked past the bruises, he supposed she was pretty. He could picture himself sweeping her golden locks back from her face and he felt his hand reach out almost on its own. There was something … familiar about her. But he couldn't place it. Maybe it was a dream he'd had.
People were coming. Quickly, he made his way out of the hospital. He'd put this whole thing out of his head. He'd get a drink and go to sleep and tomorrow would be a new day.
Will had barely slept a wink. He kept thinking of Anastasia waiting for him and he was torn between guilt and longing. Mostly longing. Belle was right. He knew that, but as he tucked into his breakfast, he couldn't help but wish she hadn't cornered him last night.
"Where were you last night?" Anastasia asked. She was wearing a dress that hugged her just right and made Will almost regret his decision to 'do the right thing'. Stupid Belle.
"I, uh, I was tired. Needed to refresh myself after the day's activities. No energy whatsoever."
"Well, perhaps I can wake you up, then," she said, leaning in.
Will jumped back. "I'm awake now, thanks. Had a good night's rest."
"Did I do something wrong?"
"What? No, no, a'course not. Why would you say that?"
"Yesterday, you asked me to marry you. Today, you won't even look at me."
"I just … I don't think it's the best idea."
"What isn't?"
"Marrying each other. I mean, surely, a girl like you could do better than the likes a' me—"
"You're a marquis! And a kind one at that. What more could I want?"
Will shook his head, stepping back, "No, nope, no, no, I can't. I can't. It's not … I mean, I'm tempted a'course. Look at ya! But it ain't right. It's not—"
"Is it me then? Am I too lowly-born for a great marquis?"
"It's not that. But we barely know each other!"
"People get married for less. We know that we have fun, and come from good families, and we both find each other attractive, don't we? What else do you need?"
"I just … I need time. Time to … get to know ya a little more."
Anastasia nodded. "I can give you that. Stay here for a bit longer—"
"No! 'Cause, if you do that then … your reputation is shot. I'll call on the Tremaine house. I'll take you out properly. No wet clothes or bad first impressions, yeah?"
"I suppose," Anastasia said, nodding. "Well, I'd best be getting my carriage ready." Will nodded and Anastasia gave him another peck on the lips. "Just one last one," she said, giving him that pouty look again. He bit his own lip and cursed Belle in his head.
Once Anastasia had gone off, he sank to the ground.
It was surprisingly easy to talk to Graham. As it turned out, he and Emma had a thing or two in common. They had both been abandoned at birth. Neither had any clue who their parents were, and both had hopped from home to home growing up, never really belonging. Emma had been lucky enough to find the Stilskins, but Graham had just had to wait until he aged out of the system, hoping that someday he'd find a family.
"I did once, actually, have a family. Not in the most conventional sense of marrying and settling down, but I just wanted so badly to have someone, to love someone. There were these two boys—twins—in the system. I saw a little of me in them, I think. So I took them in, taught them what I could. I was planning to adopt them and then, there was an accident …"
"You don't have to tell me—" Emma said, noting the pain in his eyes.
"No, I … it's hard, but I want to. We were camping and they ran off. Next I found them, they were a bloody mess. Some animal had … I don't even know how, or why. I just know I couldn't protect them."
Emma felt her hand reach out for his. She took it and squeezed gently. "It wasn't your fault."
Graham shook his head. "I'm supposed to be sheriff, but I couldn't protect them. I'm not sure I can properly protect anyone. Look what's happening in Storybrooke. And after all this time, I'm just a guy with a sad apartment, alone and useless."
"You are not useless, Graham. Look, we may not have gotten off on the right foot, but I can tell how much you care about this town, cared about those boys. Caring does not make you useless; compassion, kindness, that isn't nothing. Even if it was a only for a little while, you gave those boys a home, a family."
"I can't even go back there, you know? I've been staying at the apartment above the sheriff's station because I can't bear to go back there."
A thought occurred to Emma. It seemed wrong to bring up when Graham was so distraught, but, "You have a house, just … sitting there? Nobody living in it?"
"Yeah."
"You ever … thought about renting it out?" He shot her a startled look, "I mean, I know this is weird, but real-estate in Storybrooke is pretty much nonexistent and my family and I could use a place. We could keep it up for you. Fill it with love and … and I'm just the worst person in the world for bringing this up, aren't I?"
"No, you're not. I'd … I never thought of renting it out, but if you need a place, I'd be happy to help. It's in a bit of disrepair, so you might want to take a look first—and we'd have to draw up a lease, but if you want … I guess I could be your landlord. There are worse things."
In spite of herself, Emma giggled. She wasn't given to giggling normally, but there was so much to figure out right now. Uprooting your life to move to the middle of nowhere wasn't as easy as it sounded, and it didn't sound so easy. Things with her and Neal were weirder than ever and she still had to figure out how to help Mary Margaret and Aria and Ashley, not to mention straighten out her whole job situation. But now, at least, they would have a place to live. It was something.
Without thinking about it Emma pulled Graham into a hug and he stumbled back in surprise. "Thank you," she said, smiling as he gently and awkwardly started to pat her back.
"Um, er, you're welcome."
After a few very long seconds, Emma remembered herself and stepped back. "Sorry. I don't know why I did that. I'm just … grateful, I guess. You know, you're not half bad when you aren't trying to intimidate people."
Graham smiled, "Does that mean we're friends, then?"
"Sure." Emma stuck out her hand and Graham gave it a firm shake. "Friends, then." It struck Emma then where they were; somehow they had landed right in front of Granny's. "Well, this is my stop. I guess we can hammer out the details tomorrow. I need to talk to Neal about this before it becomes official. Lord knows I don't need to make another decision behind his back."
"Everything okay with you two?" Emma shifted uncomfortably. "Sorry, none of my business."
"You're right, it's not. But since we just became friends and you're giving my family a place to hang our hats, I'll let it go. You know, this time. Night sheriff."
"Goodnight, Emma Stiltskin."
She wasn't sure how she could still be tired. It seemed impossible. She'd been in bed all day. And yet …
"Are you up for visitors?" a nurse asked.
"Depends. Who's here?"
"The man who found you, for starters." That made her smile. "He has a woman with him. I think he said she was your sister."
Sister? Well, that was a surprise. Rosie smiled, "Yes, I'm up for visitors. You can send them on in."
"All right. I'll be right back."
A minute passed. Then Sean came in slowly, followed by … "Ashley?"
"Yeah. Hi." She stood, shifting from one foot to the other, "I, um, I know it's been a while, but I heard what happened and …"
"The nurse said my sister was here. I thought …"
"Oh. Right. Sorry," Ashley said, as she pushed her hair behind her ear. "Um, how are you feeling? Do you need anything?"
"Why would you care?" Rosie asked sharply. It wasn't fair. She knew it wasn't. Ashley wasn't who she was bitter at. Ashley had actually come.
"You don't have to be so … " Ashley shook her head, cutting herself off. "I just heard what happened and wanted to know if you were okay. I thought you could use checking up on."
"Sean was here earlier. He could have told you."
"You weren't doing so well last I saw you, Rosie," Sean said, swinging his legs around the chair by her bed and sitting on it backwards, "I was kind of hoping you'd be a little better now."
"Right. Because it just takes a day to recover from something like this."
"I didn't mean—"
"No, you're right. That must be what mother thought. After all, she was too busy to drop in at all, and it isn't even like The Glass Slipper is open during the day. And as for my sister …" Rosie just scoffed.
"I suppose I'm a poor substitute for your blood-kin," Ashley said, approaching Rosie's bedside. "But we were sisters, once, at least sort of. This shouldn't have happened to you. I hope they find the bastard who did it."
Rosie chuckled and then started to cough. Sean got her some water.
"You know, you were a bitch to live with back then. I hated you something fierce. And I was a bitch back, I imagine." Ashley didn't say anything. "Thank you, for checking on me. For carin'. It's more than I would have done."
Ashley nodded, "Yeah, well, what are sisters for, right?"
"It doesn't make us sisters. It doesn't even make us friends. But thanks all the same. It does … mean something."
"Well, that went off well enough," Robin said. "We have a little time to clear out; the owners of this place won't be back until tomorrow. What did we make out with?"
"Plenty," Alan-a-Dale said. "You should see the things that coachman was hording. And the girl, I don't think she ever met a dress she didn't like."
"At least, we'll be long gone from this place before she notices a bauble missing," Will said.
"The hell you will!" All heads turned to the voice, Anastasia's voice, as she stormed up from behind the trees. She marched up to Will and slapped him hard across the cheek. "You filthy thief! I'll have you put away for this, I will."
"You do that, we'll tell all a' Tremaine how you let this thief deflower you last night." Alan-a-Dale said.
Anastasia's eyes went wide. "Nice story you've been putting around," she said to him angrily.
"Well, it almost happened, didn't it? Nobody can say you didn't offer."
"I thought you were a marquis! You think I would lower myself to be with a common thief with such a small and pitiful estate?"
"Technically, I don't actually have any estate—"
"No, you have one and I saw it, it was just … wanting." This time it was Will's eyes that widened. He heard the Merry Men snicker. "You can't swim or court properly. You can't even go through with deflowering a girl. You're just a worthless thief and nothing would give me more pleasure than to see you hang for your crimes. You want to threaten my future, fine. Just know that no woman, least of all one like me would ever take interest if she didn't think you had land or something to offer. Look at you. You're just a skinny little thing. You've got absolutely nothing to recommend you. You don't even know how to kiss properly. Well, I'm going back to Tremaine. I'm going to a ball and I'm going to get a prince to propose marriage. A prince! I'll be a princess and you'll be a nobody little thief for the rest of your sorry life. You'll regret you didn't take advantage when you had the chance."
"You got a right to be miffed about the thievin' and the lyin', but the other stuff … I tried to do right by you."
"And I'm ever so grateful. An honest thief, you fancy yourself, then? Well, you are honestly worthless. Stay away from Tremaine and stay away from me!"
She started trudging off in the direction of what he assumed was her horses.
"You did the right thing," Belle whispered to him. He gave her a sad smile. He wasn't sure why he was sad. Anastasia had worn so many faces, he didn't know which was the real her. And really, hadn't he only wanted a fun night with her? It wasn't like what Robin and Marian had. It had been a chance to "become a man," for lack of a better term. And it was gone. And so was she.
"Well, that could have been worse," Robin said, "But we shouldn't linger. She knows where to find us. I imagine she could lead the sheriff back this way."
Will shook his head, "She won't be comin' back," he said. And he believed it. He never believed he'd see Anastasia of Tremaine again. He was, of course, very wrong.
In fact, the next day, Anastasia did show up and not alone, but that was another story.