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So, to do the math, the sheriff hadn’t slept for two days when Snow found a severed head on the Woodland’s doorstep, followed by an additional four days figuring out who killed her and unraveling an underground criminal network, and now it’s the end of day seven since he took care of the Crooked Man, so that makes… thirteen days without sleep. Thirteen. Granted, there was that brief nap while Swineheart was fishing silver shrapnel out of his side, but still.
Nearly two weeks.
With.
No.
Sleep.
Well, it was part of the job, Bigby guessed. He was used to staying awake for days at a time. New York was the city that never sleeps; why should he? This last case just proved that so much more happened under his nose than he could sniff out. Who knew how long the Crooked Man had been running his operation like he had or who else he “employed”- enslaved was more like it. No more. The people of Fabletown wouldn’t turn to a twisted bastard like that ever again. With Crane gone and Snow running the joint, the pair would make sure their friends and neighbors wouldn’t be pushed to the side by their government anymore. Sleep would need to come later.
One of Snow’s first orders of business was the regulation of glamours; making black market glamours illegal while making official spells more accessible to the common folk. Aunty Greenleaf and other freelance witches were employed on the 13th Floor to brew the glamours. More spells being produced meant their value would decrease, meaning more fables would buy them official, the black market brewers would lose business, and fewer folks would have to go the Farm. Colin could finally get himself a good disguise and, hopefully, Bigby could send a couple spells Toad’s way to get him and TJ back in the city. As much of a hard ass Toad was, the sorry little look his son had stuck in Bigby’s head for days after they left for the farm. That kid had the puppy-eyed look nailed, and that was coming from a literal wolf. He had it down to a science when he handed Bigby the gift for Snow. How could anyone resist?
There was also the issue with the Pudding & Pie closing; now all of the women working there were unemployed. While that technically wasn’t the Business Office’s problem, Bigby still point them in the right direction for a job. It was the least he could do after all the ruckus this case had caused them. Luckily, Holly said she would hire a couple as barmaids, and Johann could use some help since The Cut Above was officially back in business. And, even though business would probably be slower now that its neighbor was gone, The Open Arms motel could still use a new receptionist since Beauty got fired. She’s been more relaxed about that since the case ended, thankfully. No more shady jobs for her and her husband.
Granted, they still needed some money for rent and groceries, so they took Bigby’s suggestion of selling some of their fancier furniture and buying less expensive models. The profit would cover those costs while they hunted for new jobs. Moving all the furniture in and out of the apartment took about a day and was… not kind to Bigby’s back. Jiminy Crickets. How did Beast manage moving that armoire alone? It will forever remain a mystery..
Speaking of mysteries… Bigby hadn’t seen Nerissa since their talk outside of the Woodlands. No one had. Not even the Pudding & Pie girls. It was like she just dropped off the face of the planet. Her departing words played over and over in Bigby’s head like a broken record. It had to be just a coincidence that she and Faith-
“Bigby?”
That was Snow’s voice.
“Bigby,” she said again. He felt a hand on his shoulder nudge him, “Are you awake?”
“... Snow?” he blinked his eyes open, and yeah, it was Snow waking him up. Her usually pristine appearance was starting to show signs of fatigue; locks of hair were starting to fall out of her bun and a pair of dark circles started to form around her eyes. The new job of deputy mayor was starting to wear her down already after a week. She deserved a break from all of this shit.
“Did you… fall asleep in the elevator?”
… Wait, fuck, did he? He glanced around their surroundings and came to the conclusion that he did indeed fall asleep leaned against the elevator wall. Surprisingly comfortable, actually. How long had he been in there?
“Must’ve nodded off… What time is it?” he asked, rubbing his eyes. They stung every time he blinked.
Snow checked her watch, “Almost midnight.”
So he was asleep for the better part of a half hour.
In the elevator.
Alright, it happens. The job is like that sometimes. He pushed himself off the elevator wall, heading back to his office when Snow held him back by the shoulder.
“Bigby, how long has it been since you got some proper sleep?” she asked.
He chose not to answer.
“When did you last sleep?” she tried again.
“Just now, in the elevator.”
Apparently that wasn’t as funny to her as it was to him, “You’re dodging the question.”
Again, he played his silent card. But she wasn’t budging. Bigby sighed, “Snow, this case has had us busy, and now, so has cleaning up after it.”
“Bigby, I appreciate the effort you’re putting into the community, but you’re exhausting yourself working like this. You deserve a break.”
“Don’t worry about me, I’ve been worse,” He knocked a Huff n Puff out of its box and kept walking past Snow to the his office. He was fine. He could rest when the shock of the Crooked Man’s tyranny wore off and things went back to normal, or as close to normal as it could get in Fabletown. His bones might’ve ached from jumping out of multiple windows, his side still stung from where that silver bullet pierced his hide, but he could still walk and talk and do his job through the pain. Besides, the nicotine from his Huff n Puffs helped numb it all, at least for a little while.
He took the first long drag of his cigarette as he stepped into the dingy, dim office. The ceiling fan scattered the smoke across the room, diffusing its scent into the air and walls and blending with the faint smell of the coffee machine. There was still enough coffee for one more cup before he needed to make a fresh pot. Just what he needed to power through the evening. It was probably cold and a couple days old, but it would have to do.
Bigby slumped in his chair as he poured the coffee into an old mug stained with the ghosts of coffees past. He longed for the feeling of the mug warming his hand as he took the first sip. Warm or not, coffee was coffee. It would keep him up long enough to get the stack of case files and reports properly organized for the archives. This was definitely his least favorite part of the job, but it had to be done; especially now because of Snow’s insistence on doing things the “right” way. At least paperwork was one of the easier things to do by the book.
The caffeine started to settle into his system, mingling with the nicotine from the Huff n Puff, and he felt himself come to life. The stinging in his eyes didn’t go away, though. Sadly, that was one pain caffeine and nicotine couldn’t fix. A sweet relief from the pain came when he squeezed them closed for long enough, so sweet it drew a little sigh from his lips. Maybe Snow was right, maybe he did need some sleep.
And speaking of Snow, there was the sound of her shoes clicking against the wooden floors coming closer. When Bigby opened his eyes, she was standing in the doorway to his office.
“Bigby,” her tone was gentler, more concerned, “You can’t keep pushing yourself like this. You’re exhausted.”
He looked away from her and caught a glimpse of his reflection in the coffee pot. The dark circles around his reddened eyes looked even darker than usual. His clothes and hair were always a mess anyway, but now even moreso.
“... You could use some sleep too, y’know..” he said as he took another drag of his cigarette.
“I will. Promise me you’ll sleep tonight, and I’ll close the Business Office for the night. You have my word.”
Bigby put his cigarette out in the overflowing ashtray, “Fine, alright,” he got up from his chair, “I’ll sleep tonight, and I’ll be back to work in the morning.”
Snow smiled, “I expect nothing less..” she flicked the lights and ceiling fan off as Bigby left his office, “Well, I guess I better go close up shop at the Business Office.”
“Guess so… You have a good night, Snow.”
“Thanks. You too. Tell Colin I said ‘hi’.”
“I will.” Honestly, with how adamant she had been about sending Colin to the farm a week ago, Bigby wondered why she was letting him bum around his apartment still. Maybe she was being more lax about it now that the stress of the Crooked Man case was gone. Maybe. He put the thought aside as he locked up his office and headed back to the elevator. That sip of coffee he had earlier would keep him awake on the ride down to the second floor. No more sleeping in elevators. Back to sleeping in arm chairs.
Ding. The elevator stopped and Bigby stepped off without spending an extra half hour counting sheep. That was something, at least. No time to celebrate yet though; he felt that caffeine wearing off and he’d be ready to pass out again any second. His shoebox apartment wasn’t far despite being tucked away in the shadowy corner. Nice and quiet, no one came to bother him there. Falling asleep in that worn-out armchair would be a breeze… Jiminy, he wished he had a bed.
The door creaked as it opened, greeting Bigby with the same old apartment he was used to. Somehow, even at night, the summer heat made the room feel like an oven. The faded wallpaper had already started to curl, and that ancient Chinese food box on the kitchen table reeked more that usual. The thought of sticking his head in the freezer for a minute or two sounded pretty damn appealing to Bigby given the circumstances. At least Colin had the decency to move the fan over to the window, letting some of the cooler night air into their shoebox apartment. The heat was probably cooking him into bacon during the day. Speak of the devil, there he was, asleep on the armchair again. It had become routine to-...
Wait.
That…
That’s a couch.
Not a chair.
A couch.
Bigby had to blink a few times to confirm it wasn’t sleep deprivation making him see things.
That was a couch.
In their apartment.
And Colin was laying on it.
Where the fuck did a pig get a couch? And how?
Where was the armchair?
It took Bigby a few seconds to shake himself out of the confused state this new furniture put him in. He gave Colin’s belly a poke.
“Hey. Wake up.”
The pig shifted and groaned as he blinked his eyes open, “Oh, hey, Bigby… You look terrible.”
“Colin, wh-... what the hell is this?”
“Oh, this? You like it? Got it today. Give it a try.” he hopped off the couch, stretching out his back with several satisfying cracks.
“... where the hell is my chair?”
“Over there, in the corner. We had to move it to make room for this bad boy, y’know?”
Bigby glanced over his shoulder, and sure enough, the armchair had been moved into the corner like it was a seat at their shabby kitchen table. That solves one mystery. A+ detective work, “How did you get a couch in my- wait, we? Who’s we?”
“Who do you think? Snow White, herself.”
Bigby stared at the couch some more while Colin trotted into the kitchen, “… Snow… got me a couch?”
“And Beauty and Beast chipped in some, Snow said. Something about wanting to thank you for helping move furniture and with the whole Crooked Man thing.” Good thing the booze was on the lower levels of the fridge. Colin had figured out how to nose the door open, grab a cold one, and open it with his teeth. Actually figuring out how to walk around with an open beer was the tricky part.
“So they got me a couch?” Bigby asked.
“Yeah, I thought it was kind of a funny gift too, but y’know, I guess since you helped them move furniture, they’d give you furniture or somethin’ like that. I don’t think it’s-”
WHUMP.
...The fuck was that?
“Bigby?”
No response.
Colin peered back around the corner and what a sight he saw:
The Big Bad Wolf himself… sprawled out on a couch. And on his stomach.
“So… I take it you like the couch?” Colin chuckled.
Bigby sighed out, “It’s… perfect…”
No one at The Farm would believe Colin if he told them that he watched Bigby practically melt into a couch from exhaustion. They would say he was lying by the hairs on his chinny chin chin. Well, not literally say that, but still. The point is that they’d think he’s lying. Let them think that. He was a happy pig at the moment. His roommate was fast asleep; he had a cold drink; and because of this new couch, he got to sleep in the armchair instead of on the floor! A win win. Bigby got the couch, and Colin got the old, worn, slightly blood stained… armchair…
Hm…
Maybe he should have stayed on the couch.