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[notinthebook]

When she wakes up, mouth fuzzy and head aching, and stumbles past the linen closet on her way to the shower, she can't help pausing as she grabs a towel.

She could say the words, grab a cup of coffee and something greasy at the bar, wait out this hangover, head to work once her head's cleared a little.  It would be easy.  No one would miss her.

She stares at the closed closet door, then heads to the bathroom without opening it again.






That all just means that she's a little surly when she gets to the office.  Graham's as affable as ever, and if he notices the redness of her eyes or the way she digs into a breakfast burrito at her desk or the fact that she keeps refilling her coffee, he doesn't mention it.

He does tell her that she's on her own for lunch -- her turn to man the phonelines, but she waves him away -- after a day like yesterday, after a night like last night, she's more than happy to just hang out here and not think about a single damn thing.

Comments

[notinthebook]

She pauses mid-sip to give him an annoyed look over her cup -- not aimed at him, but then, when the topic is Regina, is that even a question?

Down goes the hot chocolate with a faint sound on her desk. "She give you a hard time?"

Please, Archie, say she did. Give Emma a reason to take her bad mood out on the one person who would actually deserve it.

But her eyes flick away at his thanks, and she shrugs, uncomfortable.

It's weird, people thanking her for helping them out; it makes her feel self-conscious. "I'm just glad nobody got hurt." Looking back up, she meets his eyes with a half-smile.

"To tell the truth, I feel like I owe you one. You kept Henry safe. That means a lot to me."

[stillsmallvoice]

His mind flirts briefly over what he'd tried to drown the night before. "Not just to you, he means a lot to all of us." He doesn't need to remind her that underneath his fantastical imagination lurks wisdom far beyond his youth.

His frown turning upward ever slightly, he added; "Don't worry about Regina, I'm not afraid of her anymore. Henry's care won't be changing again."

[notinthebook]

"Yeah, I know. I just mean...I'm...personally grateful."

To cover her discomfort, she picks her cup back up and sips at it, trying not to flinch when she accidentally takes too big of a drink and burns her tongue.

At least it's helping with her hangover.

There's a tiny hint of satisfaction in Archie's tone, and it makes her huff out an amused breath, nodding.

"Good to know. And, I mean, I'm not really one for head-shrinking, but you do good work with him."

[stillsmallvoice]

His smile curves again, and looks away with a slight blush; "Yes, well... he's got a good head on his shoulders... if only we could keep it out of the clouds."

He licks his lips somewhat tentatively and takes a long drink. "As long as his Operation Cobra can stay in somewhat more steady hands I don't believe we'll be seeing any more trips down a mine shaft."

[notinthebook]

She laughs, kicks back, relaxing a little, enough to rub at her head.

It's still pounding.

(That's the last time she tries to match drinks with Michael Westen, that's for damn sure.)

"Fewer of those would be a plus. I'm not sure even Pongo's good enough to sniff out another air shaft."

Pressing her lips together, she considers the doctor from over the cup in her hands. "You think he's really okay?"

[stillsmallvoice]

He chuckles, clearly noticing the telltale signs of a sure morning after. Well, if he was bound to talk about things... there were worse places to start, despite the slightly hypocritical truth.

"Oh, he's good enough... but yes, I think he needs someone he can trust and between the two of us, he could be in much worse hands."

Somewhat less steady, he continues; "We don't have to talk about Henry, Miss Swan... if there's something else on your mind."

[notinthebook]

Reaching for one of the bearclaws, she slants a quick, wary glance at him before settling back in her chair, the picture of affected indifference.

"Nope, I'm fine."

Goddammit. The last thing she needs or wants is to analyze or discuss yesterday and what happened later on. She's got to push it out of her mind. Until she can, she'll just have to accept the cringes of embarrassment that keep striking at the worst times.

Like now.

[stillsmallvoice]

And other tic he knows entirely too well...

Normally, he wouldn't push - it was better to let things come naturally when the client was ready, but he was getting the impression that with Emma there was no natural way to talk about worries. And she was hardly a client.

Softly, just above a whisper as though there were anyone in the station that could possibly hear them, he says; "It would go against my instinct as a doctor to say this, but I believe we've reached a point where I can talk to you as a friend." He hesitates, but continues; "I know that you've been drinking rather heavily... and you know that you're not the only one."

[notinthebook]

Running her tongue over her teeth, her lips purse, and she narrows her eyes, just slightly.

He does look a little worse for wear, but that doesn't mean she's going to spill her guts over some hot chocolate and pastry.

"Look," she says, after a minute's thought, "I'm grateful for everything you've done and continue to do for Henry, and I'd like to think of you as a friend. But my coping mechanisms, good or bad, are none of your business. And yours are none of mine. I'm sure as hell not sitting on any high horse, and I'm not going to judge anybody, but in case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly a fan of talking out my feelings."

[stillsmallvoice]

Emma's tough, but when it comes down to it... he's seen worse in Storybrooke over the years.

"No, you aren't." He nods slow acceptance; "But sometimes there are things that you can't get out of your head without telling someone who won't judge you."

A very slight smile lingers and he sighs softly, waiting several long moments to ensure that she understands he's not about to leave... but also not a threat.

In that same small voice, he says; "You know who Henry thinks I am... and I want to be the man that he sees, but I've done things in the past that definitely go against my conscience." His load presented, he murmurs; "You're not the only one who doesn't want to talk about it."

[notinthebook]

She kind of gets the idea that she's not going to be able to get Michael out of her head anytime soon, talking about him or not.

"I don't think I could handle being a conscience," she says, first, toying with the plastic lid of her cup until a tiny piece breaks off and she flicks it away. "People piss me off too much."

Man, he's persistent. Glancing up at him with a wry look, she can tell he plans on going absolutely nowhere, and she just doesn't have the energy or desire to keep shoving at him. This is what he does for a living, and he's good at it -- it's just that she never knows what to say at times like this.

"It was just -- rough. With Henry. And Regina. I probably shouldn't have handled it like I did, but -- I did. I don't know what you want me to say, Archie, I didn't exactly think all that hard about it."

[stillsmallvoice]

The thought he can't exactly handle it himself draws out an unexpected smile, and he listens carefully to what she's saying just as much as what she isn't.

"It's okay, Emma." He sips he drink, almost casually; "Maybe you could tell me what happened and it might be a little more clear for you?"

[notinthebook]

"Hey."

She points a warning finger at him.

"Don't think you can pull that shrink crap on me just because you appealed to my sweet tooth. Okay? Friendly conversation is one thing. I don't feel like being analyzed."

She likes the guy, but therapy's never been her thing. What's the point, when there's no one you can trust enough to talk to?

[stillsmallvoice]

"Fair enough." He offers a reflexive smile and then reaches for a bear claw from the box.

Musing more to make a point than anything, he says; "Have you considered a dog? I know when there's nobody I can talk to, Pongo makes a passable sounding board."

He shrugs; "Of course, he doesn't say anything helpful... but when he works for dog biscuits I can't really complain."

[notinthebook]

Her mouth twists, rueful. "I had a fish once. I died because Ieft for a week and forgot to get somebody to feed it."

She's not really very good at taking care of things.

There's a long moment when she considers her own donut, a frown pulling hard between her brows.

(Damn it, she really shouldn't think about the last time a guy bought her a donut, but there it is, and all of a sudden he's right back in her head again.

Great.)

"I don't know what it is," she says, finally. "It's like I'm a bug she wants to squish. No matter what I do, I'm always just something in her way."

[stillsmallvoice]

Oops.

He takes a bite, and then looks back up at her when the unspoken name between them comes up.

Hesitant, naturally, he agrees. "It's not just you, anyone that isn't playing her game her way gets the same treatment." And now, he's on that same list, which terrifies him in a way he could never explain.

"You're different, Emma. You don't play her game and that makes her very angry... were it not for Henry, I'd have told you to leave this place the first time you crossed her."

[notinthebook]

"I'm not scared of Regina. It'd take a lot more than anything she's capable to get me out of this town. Henry's my son, too."

Of course, that's what's got her so on edge: she'd never expected to see that kid, let alone feel the way she does about him.

She'd thought her heart was going to stop when that mine collapsed.

[stillsmallvoice]

He nods more emphatically, only nibbling at the pastry.

"She will try," and he knows all too well, he's spent too long under her foot to not know; "but I'm glad that you're here. Henry needs you."

[notinthebook]

She thinks that over for a second, lips pressed into a wry, barely there curve.

"I guarantee you're the first person who's said that about me, ever."

No one's ever needed her, to the best of her knowledge. No one's wanted her around. She's never been someone's best friend, and even when she was a girlfriend -- well, there was usually something else going on.

"He's a good kid. He deserves better than what he's got." Shoulders and chest rise and fall with a silent sigh. "I just want to do right by him."

[stillsmallvoice]

Almost on word, Archie's smile returns with a nearly full force.

"You will. You have a very strong sense of what's right and necessary." He chuckles dryly once more; "You give him something that Regina never could."

[notinthebook]

She gives him a tiny, amused smile.

"What, hope that I'll break the curse?"

[stillsmallvoice]

"That too." He takes another small bite, rather pleased with the amused smile - it certainly beats the from from before.

"But also someone he can trust completely, a true friend."

[notinthebook]

"I hope so."

Her gaze turns inward and thoughtful again, but there's affection in the tiny smile that tucks at the corners of her lips.

"Thanks. I'm glad you think so. And...I'm glad to have you on Henry's side."

[stillsmallvoice]

"He's a good boy, we can't let her take that from him."

Archie lets another lull fall between them - comfortable with the quiet.

[notinthebook]

She nods, cupping both hands around her hot chocolate, like the warmth could seep through her skin and soothe away the aches and anxieties she's carrying around with her.

Stupid, stupid. She knows better than to try and drink away whatever's weighing her down.

And she should have known better than to flirt with Michael to make herself feel better. Even knowing she actually likes him doesn't make her feel less guilty -- that just makes everything that much more complicated.

"Well, he's stubborn." She gives Archie a crooked smile.

"Must get that from me."

[stillsmallvoice]

Letting a soft laugh slip, Archie shrugged.

"That's a pretty safe hypothesis, if it were possible."

[notinthebook]

Of course, Regina's pretty stubborn, too, but Emma likes her theory better.

She's successfully deflected the conversation back to Henry again, but she's not sure where to go with it now. The truth is, she doesn't really know Archie well, though he seems like a nice guy.

It's just that she's not used to spending enough time with people to get to know them, and it's not really a strong suit of hers.

"What did you come here to talk about, Archie? I know you'll go the extra mile for your patients, but I don't think you're here just to give me an update on Henry's well-being or to comment on my hangover."

[stillsmallvoice]

He's not entirely comfortable himself, but it's important for him to step as far as he can to be a shoulder when needed - someone that people know they can trust.

"Not just, no." He's not fond of corners, nor being forced into them... but he's pretty sure it's one of Emma's specialties.

Quietly, glancing up at her, he admits; "I thought you could use a friend in Storybrooke, someone you can talk to that doesn't have a vested interest."

[notinthebook]

She feels a little bad about the way Archie shifts, looking uncomfortable: he's not an antagonist, not an enemy, just a guy trying to lend her a helping hand, which she's biting right off.

There's a sensible reaction for you.

Giving her hot chocolate a chagrined look, she shrugs, feeling sort of guilty for pushing at him. It might be her instinct, but even she knows that's not the right one to have.

(Probably when he says 'friend' she shouldn't think 'ally', but that's just another kneejerk reaction.)

"Thanks," she says, awkward. "I think I can use all the friends I can get. But I, uh, I'm pretty used to working alone. This is all kind of a new thing for me."

[stillsmallvoice]

'Ally' wouldn't be wrong in the least.

"I understand," he shifts again, slowly getting up to his feet and wiping his hands together after throwing away the remainder of his pastry. "Believe it or not."

With a soft smile, he picks up his umbrella and taps gently against the side of the desk.

"Tell the sheriff I said 'hello'."

[notinthebook]

"You got it."

She gets up, too, thumbs slipping into her back pockets as she gives him a lopsided little smile.

"Thanks for the goodies. I'll try to save some for Graham."

She lifts her hand as he turns to go, watches as he wanders away, that ever-present umbrella swinging easily by his side, and for a second a thoughtful look crosses her face before she shakes her head and sits back down at her desk, bearclaw in one hand and file in the other.

She even saves the rest of the box for Graham.

(Not that she isn't tempted.)