Beane Odette - Reawakened - A Once Upon A Time Tale

Because a part of you believes, came an answer from somewhere within herself.

She was early to the bridge, and she went down beside the water to listen to it trickle, to wait. The moon was big and bright. Her hand went to her necklace, and she twisted the ring between two fingers as she wondered what life might look like with him. Would the town hate her for taking David away from a married woman? Did it matter? She didn’t know. Love was worth quite a lot, though. She knew that much.

She waited alone for what felt like a long time. The pleasure of the fantasy was now starting to shift into anxiety. He was late, and this brought reality into sharp relief. Another side of her — the skeptic — began to tick off all the problems with this situation, starting off with what was glaringly obvious: She didn’t know him. She did not know this man and was acting like she loved him. How much, she wondered, could loneliness make you believe in something you’d invented, just to make it hurt a little less?

— Mary Margaret.

She turned and smiled, saw him.

— You came, — he said, moving toward her. He stopped when he reached her, and held her arms as she tried to embrace him.

— Of course I did, — she said, looking worried. — But you sound… disappointed.

— It’s not that, — he said, still out of breath. — It’s that I… I remember.

Mary Margaret looked into his eyes, considering this, then took a step back.

— Your old life, you mean, — she said flatly.

— Everything, — he said. — I–I got lost on the way, and I went into Mr. Gold’s shop, and I saw this… this windmill for sale there. And I had this whole flood of memories about Kathryn, about getting the house together. I–It’s in there, Mary Margaret. A lot of things are in there. And I’m remembering.

— And you remember that you love Kathryn.

He stared at her.

She didn’t say anything — she had no interest in letting him off the hook.

— I don’t know, — he said. — I just don’t know. But I remember her now, and I feel like I have to honor those memories. It’s the right thing to do.

— The right thing to do, David, — she said, her voice quivering, — was to not lead me on in the first place.

— I know that, — he said. — I’m so sorry.

— I understand, — she said. — You’ve made your choice.

Her eyes were dry. She felt more angry than hurl. Angry at herself for not knowing better. This was all just a result of her loneliness, and the feeling she’d always had that she deserved more — so strong it sometimes felt like she’d even had more, somewhere, at some time, and was being tortured by the illusion of a life in which she had very little.

— I don’t know, — he said.

An arrow pierced her heart. Hearing him work out his feelings so violently, so sloppily, so cavalierly…

She turned.

— I guess it’s just not meant to be after all. You should go, — she said, her back to him.

— Mary Margaret.

She said nothing, walked away.

She didn’t cry until she was alone.

Emma didn’t know the details, what had happened between David and Mary Margaret, that Mary Margaret had headed for the bar, that she’d had more to drink than she’d had in the last six months combined, and that Dr. Whale was talking into her ear. As Emma patrolled the town, though, she sensed a new tension in the air. Storybrooke didn’t seem so sleepy anymore. Affairs! Intrigue! She kind of liked this new Storybrooke. If she were to ask Henry, he would probably say that it was her presence pulling apart the status quo. She still…

— What in the…? — Emma said out loud.

She stopped the car.

Case in point.

She was on the corner of Mifflin and Main and could swear — swear — she’d just seen someone jumping out of the second-story window of Regina’s mansion.

She killed the engine, grabbed her nightstick, and crept toward the gap in Regina’s hedge, which she knew would be the spot someone tried to get out through. She took a quick breath and heard footsteps, raised the stick, and slashed downward when she saw the dark figure.

The stick connected, and the figure went to the ground.

After a groan, she heard a familiar voice say, — Ow.

— Graham? — she said, kneeling and putting a hand on his back. — What the hell are you doing here?

Realizing the answer to her own question, she helped him up, brushed him off.

— Ah. I get it. Well, sorry. You okay? — she asked.

— The mayor needed me to…

— …sleep with her?

They stared at each other, and then Graham tried to explain.

Emma, a little grossed out by him, didn’t want to hear it.

Just like that, her attitude toward intrigue changed.

— You do realize, — Mary Margaret said, eating her cereal, — that those were mine. Right?

Emma looked across the kitchen at the shattered vase and pile of dripping flowers in the corner. She’d come out and seen them and had lost control. A little.

She couldn’t stand the idea of Graham continuing with his quest to get her into bed, especially now that she knew about Regina. She’d seen the flowers, assumed they were from him, and had thrown them across the room. Sometimes she was definitive.

Sometimes he was, too. Last night, Emma had gone to Granny’s Diner for a nightcap, only to find Sheriff Graham there, completely hammered and completely belligerent. Things had been very strange between them in the few days that had passed since she’d caught him outside of Regina’s, and in a way, this was to be expected. He couldn’t handle the idea of someone knowing his secrets, which was true of all the men she’d tracked.

Sudden disdain. That was what she had thought, at least, when Graham drunkenly tossed a dart in her direction and nearly hit her. Things got stranger, though, after she left Granny’s Diner and he followed her out to the street.

— Stranger— was one way to say it. She left the diner and he grabbed his jacket and followed her out. Outside, the air was crisp.

— Let me talk to you, — he said on the sidewalk.

She didn’t stop, but she did slow.

— About what? — she said eventually.

Graham hurried to catch up. — I’m sorry. Let me apologize. Let me — let me explain, Emma. Everything.

— Explain what? You’re sleeping with the mayor, who I don’t particularly like, who is trying to keep me from my son, and who is, incidentally, our boss. There’s nothing to explain. I don’t want your apology. Go home.

— But I don’t feel anything with her. I don’t — you don’t understand.

Emma stopped walking and turned to face him.

— I’ve been in bad relationships, Graham, — she said. — Big deal. Get out of it and get over yourself. It’s not my problem.

— I am trying to explain this to you, — he said. — Because I do feel something. With yon .

This caught Emma off guard.

He leaned forward and kissed her before she could react.

For Emma, it was a foreign feeling to be caught off guard in this way, and she honestly hadn’t expected him to do something so brazen. For a fleeting moment before the anger came, she allowed herself to feel what it might be like to be with Graham. Not for long. But it was a nice moment. The kind of feeling she hadn’t felt for a long time.

She couldn’t show him that, though.

— What the hell are you doing? — Emma demanded, pulling away. There was a faraway look in Graham’s eyes.

— Did you just see that? — he said quickly, looking around.

— Did I see you kiss me without my consent? — Emma said angrily. — Yes. I was here.