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[notinthebook]

'Welcome Home' parties are kind of a drag when the guy they're thrown for disappears halfway through. 

She doesn't even notice David's gone until Kathryn comes up and asks if she's seen him -- she had, but it doesn't seem right to tell his concerned wife that the guy had been hiding out from her well-meaning celebration.  Just like Mary Margaret said, Kathryn is awfully nice, and she doesn't make a scene or fuss, but she gets a kicked look in her eyes that make Emma feel like a heel just for having a suspicion of where her husband's gone.

Not that she can judge anybody.  When it comes to relationships and what's right or wrong to do in them, she lacks a leg to stand on.

Still, she can't help suspecting, and when she drives home after a stilted but polite goodbye from Kathryn, she's anything but surprised to see the tall figure walking away from the apartment.  David doesn't have to look up for her to recognize him, but he does, and she does, and so it's another non-surprise to walk through the door, keys jangling in her hand, to find Mary Margaret hard at work apparently trying to scrub the porcelain right off a plate.

"You might want to ease up, or that brillo pad’s going to press charges," she says, not unkindly.

She gets it.  And at least Mary Margaret's method of coping is productive.

Comments

[notinthebook]

"Sure seems that way."

She watches as Mary Margaret twists the glass, the way she sometimes twists that ring on her right hand, the way she sometimes twists towels if she's holding them.

Mary Margaret would be pretty terrible at poker.

"Personally, I think Kathryn could stand to have better taste in friends."

[the_fairest]

"Everyone deserves to have friends," Mary Margaret said at the rim of her glass, uncertain just which of them she was defending. Especially when both of them turned her stomach into equally unfriendly knots, for wholly different reasons. 



It was still true. 

Everyone deserved friends. 

No one should have be utterly alone. 

[notinthebook]

"I'm not arguing, but I wouldn't wish Regina on my worst enemy."

Except that Regina is her worst enemy.








...Well, she wouldn't wish Regina on herself, even.

[the_fairest]

"Maybe they'll be good for each other?" Mary Margaret shrugged, trying, there wasn't much strength if conviction in the concept of the followup. "Or Kathryn will figure out her own thoughts about it to come."

She wasn't a fan of the mayor. But aside from Henry, the woman was alone. Even if it was a void of people she'd terrified away from her with her every word. 

Watching Henry suffer from that void had been bad enough. 

[notinthebook]

"Yeah, maybe."

There's a tone of finality in her voice as she lifts her whiskey to sip at it again. She's not particularly interested in discussing Regina, or Kathryn, or whether they hang out at night and watch movies and braid each others' hair. She's not invested in any of this for anything other than the sake of the woman sitting across from her, looking so pale and so unhappy with that stubborn little frown pulling between her brows, like she's scolding herself for lack of anyone else to blame.

"...Are you okay?"

She doesn't mean right this second, she doesn't mean you look like you're gonna cry, she just means...this is hard, and what she cares about is that Mary Margaret's okay. Or that she will be.

Which is probably not possible, but she asks anyway.

There's way too much heartache in this little apartment tonight.

[the_fairest]

Emma would probably be displeased to know this little apartment has known little else than it. Perhaps, far quieter, and not always as keenly, but rarely ever to an opposite setting. 

"Yes," she says even when she doesn't feel it. Isn't even sure she will be tonight. "I just wasn't expecting him earlier." 

She had to hope, that sleeping on it, he'd come realize he had to stop. It might. He had walked away at the end. 

[notinthebook]

"Hey, that's my thing." It's more gentle than teasing, but true, too: she's not honest with her own feelings, because she doesn't know how to be, but she wouldn't suggest it as a coping mechanism for anyone else.

It sure doesn't work for her.

Wetting her lips, she frowns briefly at her whiskey before looking up again. "Want me to put the fear of God into him?" she offers, a faint little smile trying to tug past the sympathy on her face.

"Or, I mean, the Sheriff's Office. Or just me." She watches Mary Margaret, unsmiling despite the joke.

"He should know better. It's not cool, him coming by if you want him to stop."

[the_fairest]

"Oh, I'm sure that's not necessary." Mary Margaret said it quickly, and with no small note of rather sudden defense for David, if appreciating the point Emma was trying to make enough to get an awkward curve of her mouth. It's not a smile, but it's the closest thing since Emma commented on the scrubber in her hands.

"I'm pretty sure he heard me." Though whether he listened, or cared to, or was going to throw it to the wind and keep coming (his Just - remember what I said no less lost on her now as last words) regardless. "But, thanks anyway."

The last was a touch shy, back to some shyness.

[notinthebook]

"Yeah."

It's part a breath, part a sigh, part a wry little laugh. "I didn't think you would."

The tiny suggestion of a smile isn't enough to light Mary Margaret up like the ever-burning candle she sometimes seems to be, but it's something, something that isn't deep unhappiness and confusion in her big eyes.

"But in case you change your mind, I'm pretty convincing backup."

An easy smile chased with a final swallow of whiskey manage to stop that thought before it starts, fortunately. It's something she's practiced at, and she flatters herself that Mary Margaret, entangled as she is in her own miseries, hasn't noticed anything out of the ordinary.

Because there's nothing to notice.

[the_fairest]

It's still a little awkward shift across her face, racing to drink. Which if Emma rolls with, Mary Margaret can only question if she is the one making Emma feel awkward suddenly. Continually almost falling about about David Nolan since the moment he woke up.

"I'm sure you would be." She raised her glass and drank again. The burn still surprising but not as overpowering. "The second best in town now."

[notinthebook]

"I think I could be scarier than Graham," she muses, swirling her glass. The last few drops of whiskey cling there, collecting amber-colored light and sending their heady sweet scent into the air.

It's all kind of absurd, anyway, just a way to try and cheer Mary Margaret up. Mary Margaret, who will probably continue to defend David even when she won't admit that having feelings for him doesn't make her wrong.

It just makes her unlucky.

"But I think you've got this one."

Mary Margaret doesn't think of herself as particularly strong, but Emma knows the truth. It's there in the little lift of her chin, the way she straightens her shoulders when she realizes they've been curling in on her.

Plus, she's got Emma, who isn't kidding about backup even if it isn't the kind she's joking about.

[the_fairest]

"Nothing a bath and few hours of sleep can't cure, right?" Mary Margaret said, trying to sound more certain than she felt, about anything was going to be able to clear up the blue of his eyes from being right in front of her again.

Though Emma was doing a good job of getting her to stop being angry about it.

[notinthebook]

"Definitely a bath," Emma says, firm. "Some music. Light a candle or two. Relax. And then maybe a piece of chocolate before bed."

She tips a little more whiskey into her glass, gives a smile that isn't meant to be as rueful as it is.

"Cure for all ills: mental, physical, or emotional. Or at least it'll help."

It should, anyway. Mary Margaret at least isn't afraid to be alone with herself, isn't worrying what pitfalls her own thoughts have in store for her.

We don't have to do this.

Yes, they did. Just like Mary Margaret has to try and forget the guy she's so crazy about, just like David needs to quit coming around, just like she needs to watch what she does and says so Regina doesn't have any ammunition against her.

Wanting something just isn't enough. Not in this world.

[the_fairest]

Mary Margaret finished off her glass, with a flicker of eye lashes, but less of a cringe again, and set it further into the table. She didn't need anymore. She was already maudlin about the night, and would probably continue to be.

I'm choosing you.

"I should do that, then," she said, reaching up to run the finger of one hand through part of her hair, against her scalp. She tried to smile a little firmer, for her, lightly teasing. "Stop keeping up the half of our police force that chooses to work mornings."

[notinthebook]

"Yeah," she says, "come on, how am I gonna bust jaywalkers if I don't get enough sleep?"

Not that there's a great chance of her sleeping all that well tonight, but what the hell. It's not like she can lay any more on Mary Margaret -- she's got plenty to deal with already.

Getting up, she clears the two glasses, screws the top back on the bottle, and waits until Mary Margaret's gotten up to follow her up the narrow metal stairs.

"Good night," she says, her hand on the handle of her door, but she pauses, frowns, looks back at her friend.

"Just...try to relax. Things will work out. It won't seem so bad tomorrow."

Except that's a lie. Maybe not a week, a month, a year from now, but tomorrow...she shakes her head, offers a wry smile.

"See you in the morning."