— It’s the bridge, — Henry said, pointing into the darkness.
Emma looked to where he was pointing. The road that led out of Storybrooke crossed the river here, spanning it with a white and rusted bridge.
When she looked back at Henry, ready to ask him what the hell he was talking about, he was already looking around near the tree line.
— He’s gotta be here somewhere.
— Oh my god, — Mary Margaret said, hand over her mouth. She pointed toward the river. — There, — she said. — He’s there. I see him.
John Doe was there indeed. Facedown in the river, not moving, his hospital gown billowing up in a cloud around him.
Graham got to him first, wading into the river. He had John Doe upright in a flash and dragged him to the store, then pulled his walkie-talkie from his belt and called for an ambulance. As he spoke, Mary Margaret knelt, put a hand on John Doe’s chest, and slowly leaned over his face.
— Come back to us, — she said to him.
Emma — uncomfortable, fairly certain that the man was dead — watched grimly from above as Mary Margaret administered mouth-to-mouth. Emma didn’t know what to make of it — any of it. She didn’t have it in her to tell Mary Margaret what was obvious. Holding John Doe’s wrist and waiting for a pulse, Graham probably was thinking the same thing. And was she crazy, or was Mary Margaret kissing John Doe?
Before long, Henry was standing beside Emma, watching as well. She had the urge to cover his eyes.
— He’ll be all right, — Henry said knowingly. — Don’t worry. She has to kiss him to wake him up. It makes total sease. It’s not gross.
— Let’s hope he wakes up, kid, — she said, putting a hand on his shoulder. — I don’t care whether it makes sense or not.
Emma could hear the sirens in the distance now; Graham, watching sadly, seemed to be on the cusp of stopping Mary Margaret. He looked up at Emma, and she shrugged.
And then John Doe gasped.
Emma could feel Henry’s excitement at the sound, and she took a few steps toward them, Henry following behind.
— She woke him up! — he said. Emma didn’t know what had happened. She turned her light on John Doe’s face and was shocked to see that his eyes were open, and he was looking up at Mary Margaret.
— Thank you, — he managed. He wiped his face, wet from the river, and looked around confusedly.
— My name is Mary Margaret. Do you know who you are?
He stared at her, apparently trying to decide.
— No, — he said eventually. — I–I don’t.
Minutes later the ambulance arrived, and Dr. Whale and the paramedics loaded John Doe into it. Emma watched Mary Margaret, who looked on with concern. In another minute the ambulance had pulled away.
She’s got it bad, Emma thought, looking at Mary Margaret, who’d now begun to futz with her necklace.
— We should go to the hospital and check on him, — the teacher said to no one.
Emma walked up.
— Yeah, — she said, nodding. — We should. Come on. Let’s go.
They quietly trudged up the grade and wound up to the bridge. Emma grinned a bit when she saw the sign attached to the bridge. It said toll bridge in simple black lettering. But someone had seen fit to scribble a little r between the t and the o.
Charming and Snow ran miles through the forest before stopping for breath, keeping a brisk pace as they put distance between themselves and the trolls. Snow was a better runner than Charming, she soon realized, and she slowed her pace (slightly).
After an hour, the run became a walk. They were safe. There was no reason to stay together, Snow reckoned.
And yet they walked, saying nothing.
They walked some more.
A little more.
Finally, after another hour had gone by, they reached the road and came to a fork. It was time to part.
Charming looked down at his boots and said, — Well. That was interesting.
— It was, I agree, — said Snow. — You stepped on one of them when we ran off. — She looked at him mischievously. — Surely not on purpose?
— Oh, no, — said Charming, looking up. — That was on purpose. Very satisfying squish.
She laughed. They both twisted a bit, faced each other.
— I suppose we should make our exchange, — Charming said. — We’re heading in different directions.
— You’re right, — she said. Her eyes lingered on his for an extra moment, and then she reached into her vest and removed the small sack of jewels. He in turn removed the pouch of gold coins. He held it up, dropped it into her other hand, and turned his palm up. Snow emptied the sack of jewels into his hand. They both looked down as he sifted through them and found the ring.
— I know, I know, — he said, looking at her eyes. — Not your kind of jewelry.
— Who knows? — she said, plucking it up. — Only one way to find out, right? — She smiled and slipped it onto her ring finger. The fit was perfect; she lifted her hand and splayed her fingers.
— You’re right, — she said. — Not for me.
He nodded, put the rest of the jewels back in the sack, and took her hand into his. As he pulled the ring from her finger, he said, — If you need more, you can have the rest of the jewels.
— That’s not necessary, — Snow said. — We both got what we needed today. I think.
— Yes, maybe so, — said Charming. An awkward moment passed; Snow resisted the urge to say something silly, to relieve them from the moment. She didn’t want to.
— Good luck to you, — he said. Then: — If you ever need anything…
— … you’ll find me? — she offered, a crooked smile appearing on her face.
— Yes, — he said. — Always.
— You know it might sound crazy, — she said, — but I believe you.
He nodded and took a step backward.
— Perhaps we’ll have to wait and find out, — he said. He nodded again and looked at the trail he was headed down. He twisted back to her. — Good-bye, Snow White, — he said. — It was a pleasure doing business with you.
— Good-bye, Prince Charming, — she said, and turned, walking away down the path. She didn’t turn back, as she didn’t want him to see that her cheeks had gone so scarlet.
They had to walk all the way back to Storybrooke’s small hospital, and by the time they arrived, Emma noted, a number of new vehicles were parked out front. She looked disdainfully at Regina’s Mercedes, then up to the ambulance parked atop the emergency stripes near the door.
Inside, a number of nurses, as well as Dr. Whale, stood around John Doe’s bed, examining him. Emma noticed another woman beside him, someone who did not look like a medical professional. She was blond, tall, regal-looking. On her face was caring concern. She spoke to John Doe slowly, like she was explaining something, and he looked at her.
Just as they got to his bed, Regina saw them and came to intercept.
— I’m not sure what you think you’re doing in this town, Nancy Drew, — Regina said to Emma, — but I’m getting tired of the disruptions you’ve begun to cause. — She glanced at Mary Margaret and said, — There seem to be a whole lot more… conflicts in Storybrooke since you’ve been here, Ms. Swan. I don’t think it’s a coincidence.
— Maybe it’s not, — Emma said. — Maybe you’re right. — Regina glared back, trying to figure out what Emma might have meant. Emma herself didn’t know, but she liked the reaction she’d gotten.
— Who is… that woman? — Mary Margaret said faintly, ignoring this stare down, ignoring Regina’s anger. She was instead looking at the blond-haired woman beside John Doe, who was now stroking his hair.