Archive of Our Own

Bring me to your house

Tell me, "Sorry for the mess", hey, I don't mind

You're talking in your sleep, out of time

Well, you still make sense to me, your mess is mine

(Vance Joy, Mess is Mine)

---

Things were changing in Storybrooke. 

The curse had been broken for several weeks now and, with the Queen of Hearts dead and no new threat rearing its ugly head just yet, the citizens of Storybrooke were celebrating all over again. 

As the residual panic and chaos that had rippled through the town finally started to wear off, the town’s residents finally started to feel comfortable in their new lives. Most people had been reunited with their loved ones by now and each of them were ready to celebrate a happy new beginning with one another.

Of course, there were still those that wanted to return to the Enchanted Forest. Those who, even after 28 years of living in Storybrooke, still felt a homesickness that they couldn’t shake. Those that didn’t want any part of the cursed persona that the Queen had created for them.

Lampwick wasn’t one of those people.

He liked being his cursed self. He liked being Romeo. Or at least, he liked not having his old memories back again. Liked not having nightmares about events he thought he’d worked through years before the curse even hit. And, whilst still no friendlier, no more popular, in Storybrooke than he had been in Misthaven, at least people knew him here.

Romeo would have been invited to the celebration that was currently being held down at Granny’s diner.

Maybe. 

Leroy got on well enough with him. With Romeo. Each with their own crappy, weathered little sailboat sat at the docks, the pair would often share stories, as well as a strong drink or two, with one another when they were both down there. They were hardly best friends, but it was an arrangement that suited each of them well enough and something that both of them were too proud to admit they enjoyed more than they let off.

Grumpy had no idea who Lampwick was. No one did. And, with the curse broken and former memories restored, it seemed presently that no one had any interest in knowing who Romeo was either.

Leaning out a tiny, partially opened window, Lampwick put a cigarette between his teeth as he attempted to light it.

He hadn’t bothered going to the Town Hall to check the bulletin board when it was first put up. When everyone else was scrambling around -shoving each other aside, in order to find their missing loved ones- he had left them to their own devices. Mostly because he himself had no one to reunite with.

His father had left so long ago that he couldn’t even describe what the bastard looked like. Lampwick only hoped that he himself bore as little resemblance to him as possible (though he imagined that more of the man ran through his blood than he dared to wish). 

As for his mother, she had died just a few years before the curse. And any friends and acquaintances he had acquired back in the Enchanted Forest were either lost in the mass of people the town housed, or hadn’t been brought over with the curse at all. Either way, he was feeling particularly resentful and alone these days.

The party at Granny’s, of course, only emphasised this feeling. So loud it could be heard all the way down the street, Lampwick watched the lights and movement from out of the window of his apartment. After one of the dwarves -Romeo knew him as Walter, but Lampwick wasn’t sure what his real name was- came stumbling out of the diner, yelling about how happy he was to be reunited with his brothers, Lampwick bitterly decided he was fed up for the night.

After taking one last drag of his cigarette, he put it out on the outer edge of the window and flicked it somewhere onto the street below. He wasn’t technically allowed to smoke inside the building at all, but no one had ever called him out about it when the curse was still in place, and everyone had been far too busy to worry about it since. Not that he would have cared either way. 

He closed the window shut, instantly muffling the noise from outside. Then, after shrugging on a leather jacket over his grey hoodie, he snatched his set of keys off the countertop and headed down the stairway and into the evening outside.

Hands stuffed into his pockets and shoulders hunched over as the chilly Maine air crept down his spine, he made his way down the empty streets of Storybrooke. Deliberately taking the long route around, to better avoid bumping into anyone should he have taken the more direct path through the town, he made his journey towards the docks. 

The docks would be pretty empty at this time in the evening, particularly amidst recent events, and Lampwick found himself desperate for that solitude right now. If only for a little while. 

He only had plans to stay on his sailboat for a couple of hours or so, but if it got a little too late and he couldn’t be bothered to walk home, there was a small, built-in couch inside that he could crash on if he needed to. It wasn’t perfect but it was something. 

Just as he reached a path that ran along the edge of the woods -one that would take him directly to the beach- he suddenly became very aware that he was no longer as alone as he first thought. It was dark, so it was difficult to tell but, there was someone amongst the trees to his right. He would have bet money on it.

Initially, he brushed it off and he very slowly kept walking. Not because he was mistaken about there being another human being in the vicinity -he knew he had seen a very human-shaped shadow standing among the fir trees- but because it didn’t really matter to him if someone was in the forest at this time in the evening.

During the curse, things might have been different. It would be weird for someone to be in the forest this late. But now, with seemingly half the town already eager to return to old habits, Lampwick had heard gossip all over the place that people were thinking about setting up a new home in the woods. Getting back to their roots. Of course, he didn’t have confirmation that anyone had actually done so yet, but it wouldn’t surprise him much. The Enchanted Forest had always been full of freaks, and that wasn’t about to change just because they were in another realm.

However, as he kept walking, he noticed that the figure still hadn’t moved, as though they were frozen in place, and that made Lampwick uneasy.

“Hey!” he called out, hoping he could scare them off. “Hey, asshole.”

That startled them. 

The person, who hadn’t been looking directly at Lampwick in the first place, whipped their head around to look at him head on. Just catching the yellow light from a nearby lamppost, their face was revealed right before they sprinted off deeper into the woods.

Lampwick felt his heart in his throat.

The figure in the forest was made of wood. 

---

August should have known that he had been too close to the town. 

He couldn't be sure what the time was, there were no clocks in the trailer and even if there had been, he doubted that they would've actually worked. Nothing in that rusted metal box worked anymore. The only way of knowing what time of day it was, was through a rough guess based on the sun in the sky. On those days when Maine actually allowed the sun to rear its head and poke through its typically cloudy skies. 

The clock tower, of course, would also reveal the time. The clock tower which August could only hear if he dared to get close enough to the town. Which, mostly, he didn't. But this evening had been different. Storybrooke's citizens had been out celebrating, and the chatter and laughter that carried through the town had made him ache. Being stuck in that trailer had been lonely enough already but the frustration he had felt because of the celebration was something altogether worse. 

He had told himself, as he had stared numbly over at the chattering streets, that he was working up the courage to finally go join them. To face his father, even despite his flaws and failings. Flaws that were, quite literally, visible for everyone to see. 

Of course, he had been lying to himself. It was what he knew best, after all. 

However, what he hadn't expected was to see someone else out here so late. So far away from the gentle buzz of the town. And, unfortunately for August, he didn't notice that this other wanderer had spotted him in the trees long before he could return the action.

"Hey, asshole." 

The aggressive call from the other man startled August out of his reverie in an instant. Like lightning, he had sprinted back into the deep of the forest, hoping the stranger hadn't seen his face too clearly, and that he would give up and leave him be. 

He was wrong. 

Unrelenting footsteps on dead leaves, the rustling of fabric brought on by movement, heavy breathing. The noise behind him didn't subside and the man stayed hot on his heels. 

After another minute of furious running, the stranger attempted a different tactic instead. 

"Pinocchio!" he called out through heavy breaths. "Pinocchio, wait!" 

The name almost caused August to stumble right then and there. 

Great. 

Either this guy was already jumping to conclusions about who he was and who he used to be -albeit, correct ones- or he knew him. 

August wasn't sure which option was worse right now. 

He also wasn't sure how much longer he could up this running for.

It had been so long since he'd been stuck in a body like this, that he had forgotten what it was like. What liberties it offered. He didn’t need to eat, and he couldn’t feel pain from outside forces, either. But his organs still felt just as human as they had ever done. His heart still pounded furiously against his chest, despite the fact that August was sure it must have been made of wood, and his lungs still burned as he ran now. 

Finally, he was forced to slow his pace and eventually came to a still. Leaning over, hands pressed to the top of his thighs, he took in huge, ragged breaths of air. Stealing a quick glance behind him, he noticed that the other man was doing much the same.

“Pinocchio-” the other man tried again, through deep breaths of his own. August cut him off.

“Leave me alone,” he said, voice far more cracked and tired than he intended it to be. 

The other man shook his head. A wide, toothy grin spread across his face, completely catching August off guard. 

“Damn,” he said as he lifted himself up from his hunched form, quickly revealing himself as being especially tall. “You run almost as fast as you did when we were kids, huh?” 

That changed things.

"You…" He turned to face the man in full, squinting at him, trying desperately to figure out who he could possibly be looking at. There was something so familiar in that smile. "Do you...You know me? From the Enchanted Forest?" 

"Duh," he said with an unerring amount of confidence. "You don't…" he trailed off momentarily, his smile suddenly sheepish and uncertain. "I guess it has been a hell of a long time...It's me. It's Lampwick." 

---

It was dark inside the trailer. Almost completely sheltered from any moonlight outside, only a tiny fraction of light filtered through the open door behind them as they entered into the vehicle. 

"You urr…" Lampwick started as Pinocchio closed the door behind them, plunging the room completely into darkness. "You're really living here?" 

Pinocchio didn't say a word. Awkwardly, he shuffled past Lampwick and into the very back of the trailer. Seconds later, a soft, yellow light emanated from where Pinocchio was and he stepped back into the main room with a lantern in his hand. He placed it on the countertop, staring intently at Lampwick the entire time, completely enthralled. Finally, he said,

"It really is you, isn't it?" 

Lampwick shrugged.

"Yeah,” he said flatly, not really knowing what else to say.

Pinocchio's expression was still one of shock as he continued with, "I thought you...I thought you were dead." 

"It'll take more than turning me into a jackass to get rid of me."

A long time ago, Lampwick might have expected a joke or snide comment from the other man after a purposefully baity line like that. 'You were always a jackass', or something along those lines. Something that might have sounded cruel from the perspective of an outsider, but something that both of them knew was only gentle teasing.

Pinocchio didn’t say anything. 

Lampwick wished he had made that joke. As much as the reminders of the past still stung him, after twenty-odd years -plus whatever counted as time in Storybrooke- he had soon come to the conclusion that finding any semblance of humour within those bad memories was a better way to cope with them than bottling it all up and trying to forget it happened at all. Instead, the silence that followed was suffocating. 

“So,” Lampwick said as he leaned back on the edge of the kitchen counter. “Why the hell are you creeping around the forest in the middle of the night?” 

“That’s your first question?”

“Thought I’d start off with an easy one.” He folded his arms and looked the other man up and down. “Anyway, seeing you all... back to your roots and stuff isn’t exactly new for me. We can leave all that till last.” He idly scratched at the side of his face. “You know, I knew you were human again, heard all sorts from across the town, but, it’s funny...I still haven’t seen that side of you yet. Never saw you when you rode into town or whatever.” He smirked. “What’s that about by the way? You really ride a motorbike now?” 

“These questions are getting more and more ridiculous.”

“Yeah, and you still haven’t answered a single one.” 

Pinocchio gestured a hand towards the built in couch. Obediently, Lampwick pushed away from the counter and sat down at the far end of the room. Following suit, Pinocchio sat down on the other couch, his movement stiff and creaky in a way it had never been when they were kids. 

“The reason I’m not human again, is because...I haven’t been a very good person. So, as promised, I lost my ‘real boy’ privileges pretty fast,” he said, before swiftly adding, “and let’s just leave it at that.”

Once again, he still hadn’t answered any of Lampwick’s initial questions. He was clearly keen to move on from the conversation entirely. Acknowledge the elephant in the room as quickly as possible so he could shoo it out that tiny trailer door and forget about it all over again. Unfortunately, it was a very large elephant, and there was really little else to talk about right now.

“Okay, but-”

“I said leave it, Lampwick.” 

Oddly, it wasn’t the defensive tone of the reply that struck Lampwick in the way that it did, but instead the choice of name. His name. That had been the first time that someone had called him Lampwick since the curse and it made him feel strange. So used to being Romeo again -a name he otherwise hadn’t been called by anyone other than his mother since he was five or six years old- there was a wave of cool relief that came with it. Something that instantly pulled him right back to the Enchanted Forest again.  

He sighed and casually rubbed at the side of his neck. 

“Aw, Pinoke, I know you don’t wanna talk about it but you need to give me a bit more than that.”

“August,” he said, eliciting a frown from Lampwick. “It’s not...My name is August.” 

“Oh.” 

Because of course he wasn’t Pinocchio anymore. 

Lampwick had heard rumours all over the place that the mysterious stranger in town had actually been Pinocchio, although he himself had never had the good fortune to run into his old friend during the curse. And, by the time the curse had broken, there were new, heavy rumours that he was missing. Possibly even dead. 

However, throughout every single one of those rumours, Lampwick had only ever heard him be referred to as ‘the stranger’ or, later, ‘Pinocchio’ or ‘Marco’s boy’. ’August’ was new to him and Lampwick had to wonder why it had only now occurred to him that he wouldn’t be Pinocchio in this realm. That he wouldn’t want to be Pinocchio.

Another oppressive silence weighed down on them both and Lampwick’s gaze naturally drifted across the room. He tried not to grimace as he took in everything the light from the little lantern revealed.

It wasn't the mess that troubled him. His own apartment definitely looked in a far worse state right now; clothes scattered haphazardly across the floor (or, at best, lazily squashed into a drawer) and a sink still full of dirty dishes, he had no right to judge things here. It was more that there was actually very little mess to judge. 

With the exception of a couple of bed sheets folded up and placed on the couch beside August, and a small kettle and flask glinting on the countertop of the kitchenette, the caravan was almost completely devoid of human activity. And whatever hadn’t obviously been brought there by August, had clearly been reclaimed by nature years ago. Lampwick could feel dirt against the palm of his hand as it rested on the couch cushion. Could just about see crisp, autumn leaves blown into most every corner of the room. The entire place looked like it belonged to the forest more than it did any human being.

Then again, Pinocchio wasn't exactly a human being right now, was he?

"So, when are you coming back to civilization?” Lampwick asked, once again the one to break the silence. “I mean, I never really took you for a hermit. It's not right, you living out here like this." 

"I'm not going back. I can't face my father like this." 

"Sure you can. Come on, he won't care, I promise." 

"This is my punishment, Lampwick." 

Lampwick couldn’t help but laugh at that.

"If this is your punishment, I'd hate to see what mine is.” 

"I’m serious." 

"So am I,” Lampwick said more firmly. He leaned forwards a little more, staring firmly at the other man. “Stop wallowing and come back to town.”

"I…" August looked away. "I can't." 

Trying a different tactic, Lampwick stood up. He walked across to the sink.

"You get running water here?" he asked as he tried turning one of the taps on with no success.

"Um, no." August smirked. "Sorry, I guess I haven't been a very good host. There's a couple of bottles in the cupboard if you want some."

"No,” Lampwick said as he turned around and began leaning against the counter again. “I wasn't asking for me. I was asking for you. I just...You can't live like this." 

"It's fine. I’m fine. I don't need to eat or anything. It's just the water." 

"Exactly. The one thing you need and you can’t even get it.”

“There’s a well pretty close to here.”

Lampwick pulled a face and dramatically rolled his eyes.

“Oh come on, who the fuck wants scummy well water? We’re not living in the Enchanted Forest anymore, you know?” He took in a breath and followed it with a deep sigh. “Look, if you won't come back to town then…Then come live at mine for a bit. It'll give you some breathing room or whatever. Some time to sort out whatever you feel like you need to sort out."

"It's too risky. I can’t chance being seen."

Lampwick folded his arms and paused in thought for a moment.

This was going to be difficult . 

"’Kay then, come live on my boat for a bit."

"Lampwick…"

"It's away from the town. No one will see you. Plus, it’s infinitely less depressing than this place." 

August was squirming a little in his seat. He refused to make eye contact or respond to Lampwick’s suggestion.

"Either you come live on my boat for a bit, or I tell Leroy that you're out here in the woods. And you know how quickly word will get around then." 

August looked up at him with a frown.

“That kind of sounds like blackmail to me." 

"Don't make it sound so dirty."

"It is dirty." 

"Look it's just…” He gestured vaguely across the room. “This place already looks bad to me right now and I haven’t even seen it in broad daylight. It's not right. You see how messed up this is, don’t you?” There was a tiny pause before he continued with, "the inside of the boat is totally concealed. No one goes there ‘cept me. You'll be fine, I promise." 

Truthfully, bringing August back to the boat was probably still pretty risky. The inside of the boat was obscured enough, but the docks themselves would still have a variety of people flitting about them. Of course, there would be no one out there at this time of night, but it would certainly limit any daytime walks August might want to take. Then again, with the number of new Storybrooke townies attempting to start a new home in the forest, he probably shouldn't be taking daytime strolls out here either. Really, it was a miracle he hadn’t encountered someone sooner. 

Lampwick figured that this had to be the best option for now. That it would allow August a couple of baby steps in the right direction before he finally found the courage to face his father and rejoin civilization. 

August took a moment to reply, but Lampwick was relieved to see that he was at least genuinely putting some thought into the offer. A worried frown crept onto his face as he asked,

"It's… And it's secured to port, right?” 

"Course."

August’s frown didn’t lift.

"Look,” Lampwick reassured. “It’s not going anywhere. Serious. Hasn't moved since the start of the curse. Sail‘s totally broke and the rudder needs replacing too. Guess the Queen was happy enough to give me a boat, just so long as the damn thing doesn't work properly. You're not going anywhere. "

August took another long moment. It seemed that evening had been filled with nothing but long, awkward silences and Lampwick was already getting tired of it.

“Fine,” August said, laboriously pulling himself up off the couch. “I’ll come.” 

Lampwick couldn’t help himself from smiling at that.

"Okay, so grab what you need and let’s go.” 

---

August couldn’t help but feel nauseous as they approached the docks. He’d been there a few times before, of course, with Emma and by himself, but that was just the dock, never on the water. He hadn’t been on a boat for a long time now and he really didn’t want to think about what had happened the last time he was on one.

For now, he bit back those fears in favor of appeasing Lampwick. Of not risking the possibility of him informing the entire town about his current situation. Although really, the other man was already doing a poor job of keeping things quiet. He had tried starting up several conversations on their way over and August had quickly been forced to remind him each time that he was trying to not draw attention to himself. As much as August appreciated being able to speak with someone, after weeks of solitude in those woods, Lampwick talking very loudly at him in the dead of night was certainly counterproductive when he was trying to remain hidden.

Lampwick, he thought as stepped onto creaky wooden boards, wasn’t that a strange notion? That, after so many years, August would finally cross paths with him again. The reality right now felt so much more bizarre than any reunion he had dared to imagine when he was still a child. 

The pair finally reached the boat. It was plain, not to mention small, but Lampwick was right about the inside of it being obscured enough from the rest of the world. Aside from a couple of very small windows on the top of the ship’s hull, the only other way to see inside of the boat would be through the door itself. 

Lampwick was currently standing on the boat’s deck and fumbling with a pair of keys at said door. August himself had yet to step aboard. He glanced nervously across the area. 

“Hey,” whispered Lampwick, instantly drawing August’s attention. The door to the boat was now wide open. “You coming?”

August nodded. He then steeled himself before taking a step onto the gently swaying boat. Lampwick waited for him to walk over and allowed August to walk inside first. Carefully, he made his way down several steps, trying his best not to knock anything over as he ventured into the dark space. Lampwick followed close behind him and soon a dim light flickered on, the source of it revealed when August turned around and saw a small cord swinging next to Lampwick. 

“There’s not a whole lot of room, I know,” he said with a shrug, “but if I can fit on it then you sure as hell can.” 

He was right about that. August was nearly 6ft tall himself and Lampwick was several inches taller than him. Although the ceiling almost touched his head, there was still just enough room for him to not have to constantly duck beneath it. As for the width and length of the room, it wasn’t any bigger than the trailer. In fact, it was possibly even smaller. It housed much of the same furniture as well; A small kitchenette, a couple of couches running parallel to one another on either side of the boat, a few drawers and cupboards scattered about the place. However, it certainly felt a lot less grimy than the trailer had. It at least wasn’t full of dead leaves and twigs that August had been too depressed to bother cleaning up and getting rid of.

The boat was also a lot more obviously lived in. There were a couple of books and magazines thrown down on various surfaces, as well as a hoodie on one of the couches and several pots and pans (both clean and dirty by the looks of things) by the sink.

“It’s just fine. Thank you.” 

Lampwick gestured to the sofas. 

“You can sleep on that. It’s not super comfy but it’s okay.” He pointed a finger to a cupboard just above it. “There’s a blanket stuffed in there.” He then pointed at a different drawer on the other side. “Got some clothes in there if you need to borrow them, I don’t mind.” He then stretched across to the sink and turned on one of the taps, grinning at August as he did so. “Water that you don’t have to get from some grubby old well.” He turned the tap off again and looked around the rest of the room. “And urm…”

“Thank you,” August said again, meaning it completely. 

Lampwick nodded.

“Well, I guess I’ll leave you to sleep.” He tossed the set of keys at him which August only just managed to catch. “But, I’ll be back in the morning, ‘kay?” 

August slowly sat down on the couch to the right, physically feeling himself creak a little as he did so. Apparently Lampwick seemed to notice this as well. 

“Think there’s some olive oil in that little cupboard there, if you want it.” He offered as he pointed to a small cabinet beneath the stove. “So your joints don’t go all stiff.” 

August couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be a joke or if he was being deadly serious.

“I think you’re confusing me with the Tin Man. And that was motor oil, not olive oil.” 

“What do you want then? Varnish?” 

Only Lampwick would speak so candidly about the situation August was in right now. 

Managing to suppress a laugh, but unable to stop himself from smiling, August gave a final, “I’m fine. Thank you.” 

Lampwick smiled back, bright and genuine and August couldn’t help but wonder how someone who was almost a total stranger to him now could feel so comfortable and familiar to him.

“Okay, well, see you tomorrow then,” Lampwick said with a tiny little wave before he walked back up the stairs and out into the night. 

As August was left alone, the sound of the ocean suddenly became very, very prominent. Yet, it didn’t make him feel quite as uneasy as he thought it might.

He unzipped his leather jacket and put it on the couch where Lampwick’s hoodie was sitting, before taking off his shoes as well. After pulling the blanket out from the cupboard and placing it on the sofa, he got up and locked the door shut (a task easier said than done when you have fingers made of wood) and turned off the light. 

As he settled onto the couch and stared up at the dark ceiling above, he was left with a strange, undecipherable mix of feelings. The apprehension and guilt he had felt weigh down on him these past few weeks was tighter and more significant than it had ever been. At least twice as pressing and overwhelming. And yet, there was something new tangled in there. A warmth that he certainly didn’t feel like he deserved right now, that stemmed from Lampwick’s overwhelming kindness. 

He knew that Lampwick would likely press him for more information tomorrow. Possibly even pressure him to go and speak with his father, if he could. August wasn’t sure he had the mental energy for either. Right now, he was just grateful that Lampwick had seen that exhaustion and been kind enough to let things lie for the night.

With nerves and fears of all sorts racing through his mind, August only hoped that he would be able to get any kind of sleep tonight. 

---

Lampwick must have gotten maybe two hours sleep that night. Two and a half, maximum. 

In what was a mix of nervousness and genuine excitement, he had rushed back out of his apartment and across to the docks, bright and early that morning. 

And it really was early. Probably too early, if he was honest with himself, but if August wanted to roll over and go back to sleep again as soon as Lampwick got there, then that was just fine with him. Really, he just wanted to make sure that he hadn’t dreamt or hallucinated the encounter altogether.

It was cold at the docks that morning. Exceptionally so. The coat over his hoodie did little to insulate him and his breath fogged up the boat's door window a little as he peered inside, so much so that he couldn’t properly see through it when he attempted to look. Wiping away the fog with the edge of his hoodie sleeve, he tried again. The little window curtain had been drawn and blocked his view entirely. He tried the handle quickly only to discover the door was locked. After a glance around the area to confirm that there was no one around -or at least no one close enough that they would be able to see him trying to talk to someone inside his own sailboat- he gave the window a few taps. 

Still no answer.

He would try calling out instead. 

The name ‘Pinocchio’ almost crossed his lips before he remembered that wasn’t his name anymore. Biting it back, ‘August’ became his second choice until he quickly realised that would also be a poor choice. August had already had a go at him yesterday for trying to talk with him on the way to the boat. Using his name now could potentially draw more attention that August desperately didn’t want right now.

Finally, after running through the options in his head, he settled on a far less complicated, 

“Hey, idiot. Open the damn door.”

He waited patiently for any kind of reply with no success. He knocked a couple more times just in case. Still, there was no response. Wherever August was, it obviously wasn't here. 

He cursed and resisted the urge to kick the boat in frustration. 

Of course he would leave. And he won’t have gone back to that stupid trailer now that Lampwick knows about it. Either he’ll have found somewhere else equally as hidden away -likely equally as squalid and depressing too- on the outskirts of Storybrooke, or he might have even left town altogether. 

"Asshole took my keys too…" he grumbled to himself before he was instantly made jump by a voice behind him

"I hope that's not me you're talking about?" 

"Jesus," Lampwick hissed as he turned around to see August standing on the deck right behind him. 

"No, just me,” he said with a wry grin. "Come on. Let me open the door before someone sees me.” 

Lampwick moved to the side a little and allowed August to shuffle past him and unlock the door, both of them heading inside it one after the other. Lampwick didn’t bother to close the door behind him as he settled right near the bottom of the steps.

"So, what?" Lampwick asked. "Where the hell did you go?” 

“Back to the trailer.” 

Lampwick pulled a face.

“Why?” 

August unzipped the front of his jacket and pulled out a notebook from its inner pocket. 

“Forgot to bring this last night.” 

“What is it?” 

“I’m a writer. It’s the place I like to note down all my ideas.” His expression grew a little darker. “Not that I’ve been feeling very inspired lately. But, I like to have it on me anyway.”

Lampwick scoffed. 

“Sure but...you risked being seen for that? I thought you were living in the woods ‘cause you didn’t want to be found? And you risk it all for a book?”

August shrugged, creaking a little as he did so.

“It’s still early, so there wasn’t a big chance of me getting caught. Storybrooke is pretty quiet at five in the morning, you know?” 

“Shit,” said Lampwick as the reality of the time actually hit him. “That really the time?” 

“Yeah,” August said, setting down the notepad on the couch before sitting himself down beside it. “Which begs the question, why are you here at this time? Did you really think I would leave?” He smirked and added, “and with your keys, at that?” 

Lampwick perched himself on one of the blocky, middle steps and withdrew a lighter and packet of cigarettes from his jacket’s top pocket. 

“To be honest, I don’t know what I thought.” He took one cigarette from the pack and put it in his mouth. “I kind of thought I might have imagined the whole thing. Had to come and check for myself.” 

 After lighting the cigarette he leaned over and offered the box to August.

“No,” August said politely. “Thank you.” 

“Oh,” Lampwick said, instantly reaching across his left side and putting out the cigarette on a nearby ashtray. “Shit. I’m so stupid, sorry.”

“What for?” 

Lampwick casually tossed the pack onto the counter next to him before gesturing in the air at August. 

“You know…’Cause you’re all...wooden and stuff. Won’t you, like, catch on fire or...or singe your fingers or something?” 

A quiet chuckle escaped August. 

“Probably not. I just don’t really smoke anymore, that’s all.” He waved a hand towards the pack on the counter. “You’re welcome to, though, if that’s what you want to do.”

“Nah,” Lampwick dismissed. “It’s fine. Anyway, it feels kind of rude now.” 

“Since when did that ever bother you?” 

Lampwick smiled slightly at August but, in return, he only said, 

“So, Mr. Writer, now that I'm here, have you got any good stories to share with me?” 

---

The conversation between them was stilted to begin with. 

It wasn’t like talking with some of the others in Storybrooke. Much like Emma, Lampwick had the ability to see straight through all of August’s bullshit. All those tall tales about lemurs and bullfighting wouldn’t impress him in the slightest and it made things difficult to approach at first. It was hard being upfront and honest and altogether not something he was used to doing. 

But eventually, the pair fell into a natural rhythm with one another, and conversation came more easily with Lampwick than it had with anyone August had known in a long time.

For the first half an hour or so, August was kept on the edge of his seat, waiting for Lampwick to ask him all those questions he didn’t want to be asked. Questions about whether he was going to talk with his father today, or if he had any theories about how to revert back to being a human again. Those questions never came.

After a little while, Lampwick lit a cigarette anyway but made sure he moved right to the top step of the boat so he could keep the smoke mostly outside. It was just as he was putting it out, that August decided to press for more information about Lampwick’s life in Storybrooke.

“So, do you work here? At the docks?”

Lampwick snorted.

“I do,” he said, shuffling back down a couple of the steps so he was at eye level with August again. “But not how you’re thinking. Not at sea or anything like that. I’d actually like that, and the Queen’s curse made damn sure none of us could ever enjoy ourselves.” He pointed a thumb over his shoulder and towards the open door. “I work at the cannery, just across from here.” 

“Why not quit?” 

“Hmm?” Lampwick made a noncommittal grunt as he dipped a hand into his pocket. 

“You’re not under the Queen’s curse any longer. Why not quit?”

He pulled out a fairly standard looking phone and grimaced when he looked at the screen. 

“Aw, shit.” 

“What?”

“I should have been there five minutes ago now.” He stuffed the phone back into his pocket. “And I was gonna grab a coffee before I left but I guess that’s too late now. I’ve been late way too much recently and they’ve already been on my ass about it.” 

He stood up and shuffled past August. Pulling open a draw, he began rummaging around it until he fished out a scrunched up, maroon coloured polo shirt. 

“Anyway,” he continued as he took off his jacket and threw it onto the couch behind August. “You hang out here for a while. I won’t be back super late or anything.” He pulled his hoodie over the top of his head before throwing that down next to the jacket. He turned to look at August who was still just sitting on the end of the bed. “You need anything? Before I go?” 

“No, thank you. I think I’ll be fine.” 

Lampwick continued to undress, casually taking his t-shirt without worrying himself about August’s presence. August would have averted his eyes straight away but, as Lampwick removed his shirt completely, something caught his attention. Several, harsh white scars ran right up Lampwick’s back. They were clearly old, no longer fresh and red but pale and ghostly against his tanned skin, and there were a lot of them too. Far, far too many, although one would have been too many if you asked August. He felt a tight nausea dance in the pit of his stomach. Quickly, he looked away and focused his eyes on the ground instead.

“‘Kay, well,” Lampwick began, “just don’t freak me out again by leaving or anything.” When Lampwick walked past August again he had the polo shirt on and was putting his jacket back on over the top of it. “Unless, of course, you’re leaving to talk with Marco. In which case, just make sure to leave me a note and keep the door open.” 

And August really thought they would go the entire morning without that being brought up. Truly wishful thinking on his part. 

He gave Lampwick a look. One that said, ‘you know I’m not ready to talk with my father yet’, but he only replied with, 

“See you later.” 

“Don’t mess up my boat while I’m gone.” 

August arched an eyebrow.

“I don’t think I could make it much worse.”

“Ha, ha,” he drawled. “Funny.”

“I wasn’t joking.” 

“I’m not taking cleaning tips from the man that thinks dead leaves and moss make good floor accessories.” Lampwick walked up the steps to the doorway. “Anyway, enjoy your writing or whatever.” 

“I will. Enjoy...Work.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure I’ll have a great time,” he said with a tight, sarcastic smile before finally closing the door and heading out onto the docks and leaving August with only the gentle sound of the ocean, and several noisy seagulls, for company.

---

Nobody seemed to bat an eyelid that morning when Lampwick showed up fifteen minutes late. Of course, he’d been much later in the past. Fifteen minutes probably wasn’t that big of a deal anyway, but he had a feeling that today it had more to do with the poor direction the cannery was headed in. The fact that two more people had quit that morning and the fact that he had even bothered to show up at all made him look like a damn Saint. 

Of course, they had expected some of them to quit right away. Sean Herman being top of the list. Once his status as ‘Prince Thomas’ was reestablished, it wasn’t exactly difficult for him to pick up work elsewhere. He had rather humbly told them all that his leaving had nothing to do with the staff or even the company itself. That he simply needed work with better pay so he could support his wife and baby. Something that was more than fair enough, even if Lampwick was still particularly bitter about it. 

However, it didn’t end with Sean. As the residents of Storybrooke regained their memories, they also regained that sense of control in their lives, which apparently included quitting their crappy, low paid job. Lampwick had heard August’s suggestion back on the boat. He would have taken it too, if he actually had any other career prospects on the horizon and it wouldn’t just leave him jobless. 

“So,” began one of his colleagues as several of them sat on their lunch break together, “anyone know who this new guy is in town?”

Lampwick didn’t say a word in reply, only kept a sharp ear out as he bit into a sandwich and the conversation behind him continued to move forward.

“His name is Greg Mendell,” a second voice chimed in. 

“Yeah, but who is he?” asked the first speaker.

“Just some out of towner. Does anyone know if he’s still in the hospital?” came a third voice from across the table.

“No, they discharged him like, a week ago, that’s why I was asking.”

Everyone across town had heard about Greg Mendell by now. Lampwick had found out about him through Leroy. Although, given the dwarf’s tendency to overshare with everyone, Lampwick suspected that most people had probably found out through Leroy.

Having someone new in town seemed to unsettle people. Ruffled everyone’s feathers.  Lampwick would be lying if he said he wasn’t also uneasy about the prospect of more outsiders coming to Storybrooke, but he didn’t really understand why there was such a big fuss over this one guy. And, now that he was out of the hospital, Lampwick imagined he would leave town fairly soon. After all, outside of its unusual inhabitants, Storybrooke really was just a boring little nothing town, tucked away in the middle of nowhere.

There was nothing to worry about, right?

---

Two days had gone by now and, outside of that fleeting mention of it before he left for work the other morning, Lampwick still hadn’t brought up August’s father. Or any of those questions that August had still been dreading having to deal with.

Right now, it felt like Lampwick was deliberately avoiding asking those questions. August imagined that almost anyone else would have pressed him for answers by now. Having given him a couple of days grace, he would have expected them to turn around and demand that he finally face up to those hard truths. 

A part of him was relieved that Lampwick hadn’t done anything like that just yet. That he was allowing him the time to mentally sort himself out before he even considered doing such a thing. Another part of him wished that he would be a little firmer with him. That it might just be the kick he needed in order to work through those fears and do the right thing.

Lampwick arrived on the boat pretty much straight after he had finished work that day. After all, being so close to the boat anyway, it made sense that he would. Despite looking a little tired, he still smiled warmly at August as he made his way down the stairs and settled somewhere on the middle steps.

That had been his favoured routine these past couple of days. He would perch himself on that little middle step and the pair of them would talk for a while about all kinds of things that didn’t matter, neither of them ever daring to delve into anything too deep or too traumatic. And it was comfortable and it was nice… But that was the problem, wasn’t it?

“What are you doing?” August asked with a sigh, just as Lampwick finished telling him a little local gossip from across the town.

Lampwick pulled a face. 

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you going out of your way to help me?”

Lampwick’s frown didn’t lift. He scoffed.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

August shifted uncomfortably on the end of the couch. He shrugged indifferently as Lampwick continued to stare at him. 

“I’m not saying I’m not grateful for it all but...We’re practically strangers.” 

“I dunno about strangers...” Lampwick mumbled. 

“It’s been fifty years, Lampwick.” 

He let out a short laugh. 

“No it hasn’t,” he said with a smile.

“Yes,” August said, his tone nothing but serious,“it has.”

Lampwick stood up and moved over to the sink. He turned on one of the taps and started filling a small kettle with water. He said nothing for a moment as he let the water run.

“The curse doesn’t count,” he said finally as he turned the tap off and placed the pot onto the unlit stove. “Time was frozen. Barely felt like a week went by at the end of it all.” 

Lampwick picked up a box of matches from across the counter. August’s voice was especially quiet as he spoke. 

“It counted for me.” 

The twenty years that had passed on during their time in the Enchanted Forest would have been long enough. More than long enough. Lampwick had been busy growing up while August was too busy travelling across realms as a puppet still, desperately searching for his father. Really, after those first couple of years, he had given up hope of ever seeing Lampwick again. Assuming that he was dead (although hoping he wasn’t) August had moved on from that part of his life, doing his best to banish all thoughts of coachmen and donkeys from his mind. 

He had thought that, if Lampwick had survived, he would have done the same. 

The twenty-eight years that the curse brought with it only cemented that distance. The distance between him and Lampwick. Between him and his father. Between him and his life in the Enchanted Forest altogether. There was a particularly dark period in his life when he had all but convinced himself that he had made the whole thing up. That he was well and truly losing his mind. If he hadn't managed to track down and confront the son of the Dark One, he might have convinced himself the whole thing really was just a delusion. The past was something he had to actively cling onto, something he had made notes on over the years in order to remember it, not something that came naturally or freely to him.

It was very quiet in the room after August spoke those words. Then Lampwick, placing the matchbox down and leaving the tea kettle alone for the time being, turned around to face August, folding his arms and leaning back against the counter as he did so.

“I dunno why,” he shrugged pathetically as he attempted to answer August’s initial question. “I guess I just felt bad, you know? Couldn't leave you like that.” 

"But you've gone so far out of your way for a perfect stranger."

"What can I say? I'm a generous guy. And anyway, you're not that perfect," he added with a grin.

Even despite those fifty-odd years, Lampwick was still using humour to deflect questions he didn't want to answer. 

August granted him a smile back but it was strained and troubled. 

“Well, thank you.” 

“You’re welcome," Lampwick said, turning back around and lighting the stove. "Now, I didn't really see anything, but Leroy told me all about this Queen of Hearts nonsense…”

---

“So,” Lampwick began, sprawled casually across the little couch across from August, “you said you were in Thailand, right? Before you came to Storybrooke?” 

It had been another couple of days with August still on the boat, him refusing to leave and Lampwick letting him do so. Without work that morning, Lampwick had arrived even earlier than usual so that the pair of them could talk. 

He told himself he was helping the man-turned-marionette. That simply talking with him would help pull him out of his miserable state until he was ready to face the rest of the world. 

And he had been miserable. When Lampwick could get a good conversation going, when he could move August onto a topic that piqued his interest, talk was fine. Better than fine, really. But the second he came close to broaching a subject like August’s condition or August’s father or the possibility of going back to the town, that was when Lampwick could visibly see the other man retreat. He would tense up, instantly becoming closed off and prickly, and it would prove particularly difficult to get him back into a half-decent mood again. 

“Yeah,” August answered, his back pressed up against the wall and his legs stretched out along the couch. “Phuket.”

“You miss it there?” 

August seemed to think about that for a moment, carefully considering the answer in his mind.

"Sometimes,” he decided eventually. “I lived there for a long time, so I think it would be strange if I didn't. And it's a beautiful island, but…" 

Lampwick wasn’t sure what the ‘but’ at the end of that sentence was for. He decided not to press him about it.

"What about the Enchanted Forest?" Lampwick asked as he sat up a little more. "Do you miss that?" 

August shrugged indifferently. 

"I'm not sure. Parts of it, at least. It's been a long time since I’ve been there.” He frowned and tilted his head a little, a show of curiosity. “What about you?” he asked. “Do you miss it? I imagine your memories of it are a lot fresher than mine.” 

Lampwick shifted positions so that both his legs hung off the couch and his feet touched the floor. He clicked his tongue a few times as he thought about his answer.

“Same as you, I guess. I miss some of it. Don’t miss other bits.” Lampwick suddenly realised just how poor of a conversation topic this was to bring up. Just how much he didn’t want to think about those friends he had been separated from when the curse hit, or dead loved ones, whose memories would always remain almost exclusively within the Enchanted Forest. “I don’t miss much about the lifestyle though, that’s for sure,” he added in an attempt to lighten the conversation. “Fast food, electricity, running water...There’s a hell of a lot to like in this world.” He stretched an arm over to where his leather jacket lay beside him. He tapped one finger on the jacket pocket, gesturing to the pack of cigarettes within it. “Couldn’t get these back in Misthaven either. Although, maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.”

August only nodded along. Lampwick must have struck a nerve somewhere, although he couldn’t be sure where. He shifted positions again, pulling up one leg and cradling his knee with his arm, before changing conversation topics as well.

"By the way, I can’t believe I forgot to ask it earlier but…What are you writing about? Anything that might catch my limited interests?"

August seemed a little sheepish but he did, very slowly, reply with, 

“It’s...Autobiographical.”

There was a tense pause. Lampwick arched an eyebrow.

"Huh. And which life would that be about?”

“The one that everybody already thinks they know,” August replied, folding his arms across his chest. “I’m re-writing Pinocchio.” 

“Am I in it?” 

“I couldn’t not include you. Of course you are. Although…” His expression grew more solemn. “To be honest, I haven’t written many of your scenes yet. Some of them are...Well, they’re not so easy to write.” 

Lampwick ignored the unspoken mention of Pleasure Island completely. Keeping the talk as light and humorous as he could, he said,

“Well, just make sure you write me properly. Don’t make me sound too goofy or anything. Or like too much of an asshole.”

That elicited a smile from the other man.

“As if I would ever dream of it.” 

---

August had been stuck on Lampwick’s boat for nearly a whole week now. 

Of course, 'stuck' probably wasn't the right word to use here. The man could leave anytime he wanted, Lampwick wasn't keeping him there, but, so long as August didn't want to be seen, that's where he would stay. 

Lampwick had to wonder if he was doing the right thing in letting him live there. Really, anything was better than that overgrown trailer of his, reclaimed almost entirely by mother nature as it was, but August still didn't seem much better in himself. Guilt and depression and a whole host of other negative emotions were clearly weighing him down and Lampwick’s company was seemingly the only thing keeping those emotions from overwhelming him completely. It was something, and that was good, but it was just barely enough. 

After their talk a few days ago, Lampwick couldn’t stop thinking about what August had said to him. About why he was helping a man he hadn't seen since he was nine years old. 

He was right, of course. Even without the extra twenty-eight years that the curse offered, it had still been a little over twenty years since Lampwick had seen him last. More than long enough to forget one another entirely. 

If he was honest with himself, Lampwick would be able to admit that the real reason he was so eager to help out August was more selfish than it appeared on the surface. That, if he had truly wanted to help out the other man, he would have at least attempted to convince him to go back to the town, even if he hadn't succeeded in that endeavor. 

But he was terrified to push him too far. Scared that, if he pestered him about it, August would up and leave the second he got the chance. 

And, not just that but, it was nice to have a proper friend again. A secret friend, at that. Conversation came so naturally between the pair of them and Lampwick couldn't help but feel a warmth in his chest when they spoke with one another. Being on that boat felt like this little bubble of space where nothing else mattered. Where time barely seemed to move and nothing and no one could reach them.

And he knew it was stupid and childish and unbelievably selfish, but Lampwick liked having someone else around. Someone that didn’t want to leave just yet.

"Pongo!" came a troubled voice from behind him, startling Lampwick out of his thoughts just as he was about to cross one of Storybrooke's quiet roads. 

Lampwick had gone back to his apartment after work today. Caught between not wanting to leave August wallowing by himself for too long, and not wanting to overwhelm him or appear to clingy, he had allowed himself a few hours at home before he headed back over to the docks. Now he was wishing he had gone straight there.

He froze just on the edge of the sidewalk and turned to his right to see a man being led by a very enthusiastic dalmatian.

Lampwick had done his fair share of quiet observation after the breaking of the curse, but the ruckus surrounding the cricket-turned-therapist would have been hard for anyone to miss. They had only held his funeral a couple of weeks ago.

Being painfully aware of who this man was, and who he used to be, was a strange feeling. Particularly strange when, as the former cricket attempted to calm his dog, there was no sign of recognition behind his eyes. He had no idea who Lampwick really was.

"Pongo," the man hissed again as the dalmatian finally settled down. He looked up at Lampwick properly, nothing but a genuine apology written on his face. "I'm so sorry, he just gets a little excitable sometimes." 

Lampwick’s mouth was very dry all of a sudden. 

"That's okay," he said with a tiny, awkward smile, before crossing the street without even bothering to check for traffic and hurrying away from the man as quickly as possible.

He hadn’t told August about the therapist’s so-called ‘death’. He didn’t want to worry him and, since the cricket was actually alive anyway, he figured it probably didn’t matter at all.

Even so, he couldn’t help but feel guilt gnaw at the middle of his stomach as he continued on towards the docks.

---

It was getting late. A warm, pink sunset spread through one of the boat’s tiny windows and bathed the room in its glow. August and Lampwick were both sat across from one another, each on one of the couches. Sandwiched between them was a tiny wooden stool that left little room for either of their legs, but was a necessity as it was currently the only sensible place to set down the deck of cards they were using.

As August looked at the cards pinched carefully in his hand -of which, he’d nearly dropped twice now, with his awkward wooden fingers- and back up at Lampwick, he almost allowed himself to forget that this wasn’t how things were meant to be. Allowed himself to forget that he wasn’t supposed to be a puppet anymore. That he was meant to be human. 

Lampwick never once looked at him like there was something wrong. Never treated him as anything less than human. Something that couldn’t be said about a lot of people August had run into during his first time as a puppet.

August cautiously picked up a card from the pile. Wearing his leather gloves had helped immensely with keeping a grip, but delicately taking the top card from the deck was still no easy feat. It was worth it though. He smiled, replacing the card with one of his own and revealing his winning hand to Lampwick. 

“I thought you said you were good at this?” he said to Lampwick with a grin as the other man immediately grabbed the deck from the table and started to shuffle in his own hand.

They had only played three rounds so far but Lampwick was yet to win a single one. 

“ I thought you were good at this, ” Lampwick repeated in a mutter under his breath, although there was no real malice behind the remark. “Jackass…” 

With that final word came a heaviness that struck August right at his core. It was a word that August had done his best to avoid like the plague, but one that Lampwick himself had used one more than one occasion now.

“Lampwick,” August started, handing over his cards when Lampwick gestured a hand out for them. “How...When you…” He cleared his throat. “How did you turn back? Into a human, I mean. After you…” 

He had been meaning to ask the question for a while now, ever since he first brought it up at the trailer. Of course, if Lampwick didn’t want to answer it now either then that was fine too. August wasn’t going to push him for it, particularly since August himself had been avoiding answering all kinds of questions. That would be hypocrisy at its finest.

But the desire to know had been niggling at him for days now and if Lampwick was ready to tell him, then August was more than eager to listen.

Lampwick only shrugged and finally stopped shuffling the cards.

“Got sold to this farmer,” he began, the casual way in which he spoke about something so serious, startling August a little. “Worked for him for a while. You know, turning a water wheel, that kind of shit. Couple of months later I collapsed. The work, the heat, it got to me and I fainted. When I woke up, I was human again.” He chuckled darkly as he started to deal out the cards between them. “Imagine the shock on the old farmer’s face when he saw that?” 

August forced a particularly nervous and fleeting smile alongside a quiet, “yeah.” 

If Lampwick wanted to joke about this then who was he to deny him it? 

Even so, he was now wishing he hadn’t asked at all. He was hoping to hear that Lampwick had become human again before he even left Pleasure Island. That someone had come to rescue him and all the other children before anything could really happen to them. August had been lucky that the transformation didn’t have a chance to fully complete before he left the island. Lucky that he was able to steal his way onto a boat back to the Enchanted Forest. Apparently, Lampwick and the others hadn’t been so fortunate.

August picked up the cards that Lampwick had laid out for him but as soon as he had them in his grasp, nervous hands failed him and they jumped from his grip, scattering everywhere.

“Dammit,” he cursed. 

Lampwick instantly put his own cards face down on the couch next to him and rushed to pick up August's for him. After swiftly collecting the full hand, he took a moment to look at them.

“I think you did that on purpose,” he said with a wry grin, looking up at August from where he was crouched next to him.

“Why?” 

“You had a pretty crap hand.”

August snorted at that. As Lampwick stood back up, August’s gaze followed the movement upwards and took in the sunset from the window behind the other man.

“It’s getting late,” he said, having only registered just how dark the room had become. 

“Yeah,” Lampwick agreed as he collected the rest of the cards and tucked them back into their flimsy case.

After putting away the stool at the very back of the room, Lampwick walked back over to the couch and picked up his jacket. 

“I'm not working tomorrow so, I guess I’ll swing by a little earlier,” he said as he put the jacket on before hurriedly adding, “if you like.” 

“Yeah,” August said distantly. “That would be nice.” 

For a moment it looked as though Lampwick was about to say something else. Hesitant words just on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he merely said a swift, “night,” before marching up the steps and out of the boat. 

---

As promised, Lampwick had headed to the boat a little earlier that next day, but he hadn’t missed the opportunity to grab something from Granny’s Diner on the way over. 

Whilst waiting for his coffee, he had noticed Leroy and Sister Astrid (or was that Grumpy and Nova, now?) nestled together in one of the corner booths. He didn’t bother disturbing them. The dreamy looks from Leroy and the constant giggling from the fairy told Lampwick that the pair were on a date and likely didn’t want to be interrupted, particularly by someone like him.

However, as he took his coffee and headed out the shop door and down to the docks, the presence of Nova did spark an idea in him. One that he felt he surely should have thought of earlier.

August was reading when Lampwick stepped into the boat. Apparently that was all he ever seemed to do. Although confined to the four walls of the ship as he was, there were few other options available to him, so Lampwick couldn’t really berate him for it.

“The Blue Fairy,” Lampwick said with a grin as he made down the steps and into the room, perching himself down on the couch opposite the one August was on. 

“Hello to you too,” August said dryly as he placed a scrap of paper into the book and set it down beside him.

“Mother superior. She might be able to help you, right? I dunno why we didn’t think about this before.” Lampwick could already see August’s face souring but he continued to talk anyway. “Look, I know you don’t want to talk to her. Hell I know I don’t wanna talk to her, but...it might help. She might know what to do…”

August said nothing. He shuffled his legs around and repositioned himself on the makeshift bed so that he was completely opposite Lampwick. His entire body seemed to deflate a little and he let his arms rest lazily on the top of his thighs.

“I already spoke to her,” he said quietly, refusing to make any kind of eye contact. “She knows I’m...That I’m like this.”

“Wait, what?” Lampwick frowned. Then he laughed humorlessly. Finally, his frown deepened and he said, “hold on, are you saying she saw you like this and didn’t bother helping you?” 

August’s worried eyes finally met Lampwick’s own. 

“She can’t. That was the whole condition of me being real. I had to be brave, truthful and unselfish.” He looked away once again. “And I wasn’t any of those things.”

“But…She’s a fairy. She’s got magic, right? She...”

Lampwick couldn’t understand why she hadn’t tried to change him back into a human again. Even more so, he couldn’t understand why the Blue Fairy hadn’t bothered to tell Marco that his son wasn’t dead.

Then again, he hadn’t told Marco either.

“She can’t change me back, Lampwick,” August said, so quietly it could barely be heard over the soft sound of the ocean.

The mood in the room had dropped at an alarming rate and Lampwick hated it.

He leaned across and gave August a couple of awkward pats on the knee, before standing up and picking up the deck of cards from one of the table tops.

“Wanna beat me at cards again?” 

August still looked miserable.

“Sure,” he said with a half-hearted shrug and a distant gaze. 

Lampwick bit the inside of his cheek. He nervously tapped the deck a couple of times before throwing the pack on the couch and sitting back down, staring at August. 

“You know, there was a giant in town a couple of weeks ago,” he began. “And, I swear to god I saw some guy with a tail or something-”

“Lampwick, this isn’t about me feeling like I might stand out. I was a puppet for over twenty years back in the Enchanted Forest, don’t you think I’m already used to feeling like an outcast?” His expression only grew more withering, more troubled, as he continued. “This body is a physical manifestation of everything I’ve ever done wrong in my life. I can’t let people see me like this.”

Lampwick shrugged, pouting.

“I’ve only ever seen you like this.” 

August’s expression softened, if only a little.

“I know.” 

The pair of them sat there for a moment in silence. Finally, Lampwick got up and retrieved the stool from the back of the room. Sitting back down on the couch, he wordlessly started to deal out the cards between them.

---

Hiding in that trailer was never supposed to be a permanent solution. 

It had always been more of this limbo state. A step between plans, ready and waiting for things to solve themselves and for all the answers to just fall into his lap. The trailer was only ever as temporary or permanent as he needed it to be.

Being on the boat was different. His guilt was ten times worse here, as well as his paranoia about being accidentally found out, and he was forever feeling right on the edge of leaving through that door and facing his father.

The problem was that he still didn’t trust himself not to run. He wasn’t certain that, as soon as he did leave the boat, he wouldn’t just steal a car or take his bike back and leave Storybrooke for good. Being on the boat was Limbo 2.0. The second, temporary solution to a problem he wasn’t sure he could ever fix.

He put his book down and stepped off the couch and over to the light switch before turning it off and clambering back over to the bed.

Maybe this was something he wouldn’t ever come back from? he thought to himself as he lay silently in the dark. The rocking of the boat, the sound of the waves, proving nowhere near as awful as he had so anxiously feared they might. But would it really be so awful to live as a puppet forever?

He grimaced, wincing at the thought. 

Lampwick didn’t so much as flinch when he saw him like this. Wasn’t troubled by it in the slightest. But Lampwick was one person. Not to mention, someone that had only seen him in this form. As for the rest of the town…

August rolled onto his side. The couch was so slim that his nose was almost pressed right up against the wall. 

He knew he couldn’t stay here forever. 

---

A few more days had passed and it felt like August was doing a little better.

Maybe.

Lampwick found it difficult to tell. Difficult to know if August was actually mentally more stable within himself, or if it only appeared that way because he wasn’t having to face what was really going on. 

Standing by the bar in Granny’s, still waiting to be served by Ruby, these thoughts about August consumed him. Overwhelmed him so much that he didn’t even notice it at first when Marco walked into the diner and settled down just a few seats away from him.

The second he heard the old man speak, he felt a spike of nervous panic shoot straight through him. Not-so-subtly, he brought a hand to the side of his face in an attempt to conceal it. Then, quickly realising how ridiculous that would look, he instead folded his arms across his chest and stared straight ahead. 

Of course, Marco wouldn’t recognise him. The two of them had barely interacted when Lampwick was a kid. There was no way he would have any reason to recognise him as an adult now. But, nonetheless, Lampwick still felt like he was being observed in that moment. Watched like a hawk and judged for everything he had done and everything he was currently doing. 

“Still no word about your boy?” Granny asked, ignoring whatever order she was working on in favour of talking to Marco.

“Nothing.” 

Lampwick stole a look behind him. Ruby was still talking with one of the diners. Flirting with her, if Lampwick was reading things correctly. He would have considered going over there and trying to get the waitress’ attention if he didn’t think it might bring more attention to himself in turn. Instead, he stayed where he was, completely on edge.

“Maybe ask the Sheriff again?” he overheard Granny suggest.

“I don’t see what good it would do.” 

“Well, now that the town isn’t being terrorised by the Evil Queen and her crazy mother, maybe they can actually pull together a full search party? With proper resources.” 

“Maybe,” he muttered. “We should try, at least. Of course. But…”

Out of the corner of his eye, Lampwick saw the man shake his head. Focus downcast, didn’t even appear to be looking at the woman he was talking to. 

“I’ve failed him. So much.” 

Guilt washed over Lampwick. He gripped his arms a little tighter.

“He’ll show up. I’ve got a sixth sense about these kinds of things.” 

Lampwick heard Marco mumble something back, but he couldn’t quite make out the words. 

So intent on trying to listen to what the man was trying to say, he didn’t notice Ruby approach until she was behind the bar and right in front of him. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw her standing there. She looked almost as startled as he did. 

“Can I...Can I get you something?”

“No,” Lampwick said quietly, deciding that this was all too much for him right now. “No, it’s fine. Thanks.” 

Leaving the diner, he walked out into the light rain outside, somehow feeling even worse than he did when he had first walked in.

---

August was surprised to see Lampwick arrive so late that evening. He had already visited once that day already, as brief as that visit had been, and seeing him here again was unusual.

Not only that but he looked pensive. So much so, that August was afraid to ask what was wrong. 

As it turned out, he didn’t need to ask. Almost as soon as Lampwick had arrived and sat down on that little middle step, he spoke very firmly to him.

"When are you gonna talk with your dad?" 

August looked away almost the second those words came from his mouth. 

"I...I still don't...I don’t know that I can face him like this.”

"Why?" Lampwick asked with a hard stare. 

“I told you the other day. Me, like this, it’s a-”

Lampwick cut him off, with a particularly scathing, “physical manifestation of you being an asshole, whatever, whatever, I don’t care.” 

 August’s eyebrows shot up.

“Excuse me?” 

“Look, what did you do? What did you do that was so bad, you can’t tell your own father?” Lampwick’s stare eased up a little. “You don’t need to hide this crap from me. I promise that, whatever it is, it can stay between us, on this sailboat, if you need it to.” 

Lampwick’s proposal was more than fair. More importantly, August knew the other man wasn’t going to let this go. He sighed.

"Before I came to Storybrooke, I was in Hong Kong." 

That clearly hadn’t been what Lampwick was expecting him to say. 

"Okay?" 

"I was already turning back to wood. I couldn’t give you a full list of the things I’d done to trigger that, but let’s just say it would be pretty extensive if I did. Anyway, I’d been told by someone that there was a mystic there, that his name was the Dragon. And he had magic that could cure me."

"I take it that he wasn’t there?" Lampwick said with a scoff. 

"No, he was,” August continued seriously. “He had a cure, a real one, but it was expensive. Something I really couldn't afford. So, I left empty handed to go and drown my sorrows in a bar somewhere. 

"The funny thing is, I ran into a woman there. Someone who, like me, had also come to see the Dragon. And she had come far better prepared than I was. Had the money with her, right there at the bar. So, I took it." 

Lampwick shrugged. 

"So what? You stole some money." 

"She…” August paused, struggling to own up to what he did. “She was dying, Lampwick. She had just enough money for a cure and I took it from her, knowing full well that my actions would kill her.”

“Oh.” 

"Thankfully, she was okay. At least, I hope she was okay. After I retrieved the cure from the Dragon, she caught me red handed. I...I tried to run away, but karma hit me pretty hard. My leg started playing up and stopped me from getting too far. She took the cure back from me and I never saw her again. 

“My…” He waved a hand vaguely in the air. “My transformation -back into a puppet again- only got worse after that. The whole process sped up.” He stared furiously at Lampwick, his look hard set and unwavering. “The only reason I even came to Storybrooke in the first place was to cure myself. That’s it. I wasn’t here for the curse. I wasn’t here for Emma or my father or anyone else in the town. If I had been given an alternative, an option to not come here, I would have taken it and run as far away as I could.” He leaned in a little closer to Lampwick. “I was going to let a woman die, on purpose, so that I could live. I don’t deserve redemption for that. And I don’t want my father to have to deal with the burden of knowing his own son is capable of something like that.” 

Lampwick was quick to reply, as though it wouldn’t have mattered what August said at all. 

“Did you ever consider that it might be worse for your dad? That your so-called punishment might be doing more damage to him than it is you?”

August didn’t answer him. Lampwick continued, his voice no less hard than it was before.

“I saw him today. He’s still looking for you, even after all this time. It’s not good, August. He’s really hurting.” He took his pack of cigarettes from his top jacket pocket. “You know...I don’t have a family anymore. My dad’s never been around, you know that much already, and my mom, she passed away. Few years before the dark curse hit.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

Lampwick shrugged and pulled out a cigarette from the pack.

“Yeah, well, me too.” There was a very harsh pause after he said that, as though he was steeling himself. Pushing back a grief that hadn’t quite left him. “But, you know, it is what it is. And...And that’s not how things are here. They don’t have to be like this. So what, you did a bad thing? I guess quite a few bad things by the sounds of it. But you know that shit was wrong. And if you could take it all back, make things up to all those people you hurt, you would do it, right?”

“Of course.” 

“Exactly. That means you're still a good person. Bad people don’t care about that shit, trust me. They don’t wanna know about the people they hurt, don’t care about the lives they ruin. I don’t know your dad that well but from what I do know, he seems like a pretty smart guy, not to mention an understanding one. He’ll see that good inside.”

“And other people?” 

“Fuck other people. The only people that matter in this situation are you and your dad.” 

Lampwick stood up and walked up a couple of steps in order to push open the door. After taking a look outside at the dark sky, he sat down again on one of the top stairs and continued with his speech, ducking his head slightly to look at August still.

“Look, don’t take this the wrong way, I’m not trying to insult anybody, but...Marco’s not exactly getting any younger. I don’t think you should be wasting your time moping around here feeling sorry for yourself.” He stared very seriously at him. “Talk with him.”

Lampwick started to light the cigarette, giving August a moment to process everything that had just been said to him. 

Lampwick was right, of course. August had known it in his heart for a long time now. It was just that taking that first step, fighting all those apprehensions and fears that had settled deep within the roots of his heart, seemed almost impossible right now.

“Will you…” August began, feeling like a child before the words had even left his mouth. “Will you come with me? Just into the town?”

“Of course,” he said, as though it was the only possible response he could have given. “Of course I will.” He looked back at the sky behind him again. “Tomorrow though.” Quickly pulling his phone from his pocket he checked the time. “Damn it’s late.” 

The pair stayed in silence for a minute or two before Lampwick spoke again.

“You urr…” He scratched the back of his ear. “You mind if I crash here tonight?” 

August knew what he was doing.

“Why? Worried that I’ll leave if you don’t?” 

“No,” Lampwick said with a forced laugh before taking one last drag of his cigarette and climbing back down the steps to put it out. “Storybrooke has been full of weirdos lately. Maybe I just don’t wanna run into some evil wizard on my way home?”

“Right.” 

“Believe whatever you wanna believe,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Either way, it’s my boat so I’m staying whether you like it or not.” He climbed back up the steps and shut the door. “You don’t snore, do you?” 

“I don’t think so.”

Lampwick returned him with a quiet chuckle and a sheepish smile. 

“Been told that I do. Sorry in advance.” 

---

August was standing in a field. 

It was dark out and the sky and everything below it felt vast and empty and endless. The pitch black of the night engulfed him almost completely and only the cold, bright white of the moon allowed him to take in his surroundings. 

Uncertain of where to go or what to do, August simply walked onwards, through the dry grass. It wasn’t very tall, barely reaching ankle height, but he still didn’t seem to notice the small metal trap in front of him. A bear trap snapped shut, instantly sinking its metal teeth into his leg. A shooting pain, brought on by shock, ran straight up his leg. Thankfully it didn’t last. August imagined that, if he hadn’t been made of wood still, the damage would have been significantly worse.

Yet, despite the lack of pain, the trap still panicked him. Tugging his leg, he tried to break free of the claw. His efforts did nothing. Instead, he crouched down in order to try and pry the trap apart with his hands. Just as he started to pull on the metal sides, however, he felt two pairs of hands grab each of his arms.

And then a third pair of hands around his neck. 

No, not hands. Rope. 

Without even realising it, he had been hoisted into the air and he could feel himself swaying. Rocking gently side to side in a breeze, from a tree that he could have sworn wasn’t there before. And not only that but he felt smaller somehow. Lighter. Like he was trapped inside someone else's body. He tried kicking. Tried desperately grabbing at the rope around his neck. Tried crying out and screaming but it was all useless.

Suddenly, the full moon caught his view again. Huge and bright and terrifying as it illuminated the infinite fields below him. 

His heartbeat quickened as the rope felt tighter around him. 

He kicked and flailed again, and again. 

He felt the rope drop.

August sat up in bed almost immediately. Heart racing, he stayed frozen for a second or two, completely unable to move, even if he wanted to. Slowly, he focused on his breathing and allowed himself to calm down. 

He hadn’t had one of those nightmares for a long time now. Apparently, his fears about tomorrow were manifesting in all kinds of strange ways. 

August needed some fresh air. The rocking of the boat felt just a little bit too much like that swaying breeze and there was an odd groaning sound that he didn’t like much either.

He moved to shuffle off the couch but just as his feet hit the floor he realised what the noise actually was. 

Lampwick, just across from him, was murmuring something in his sleep, sounding particularly distressed. It seemed that neither of them would be getting a good night’s rest that night. 

August stayed still for a moment, completely unsure about what to do. 

He had read somewhere once that you shouldn’t wake someone from their nightmare. That waking the sleeper would only guarantee they would remember the nightmare afterwards. If Lampwick managed to sleep through it now, then he would surely be just fine again in the morning, with no memory of the nightmare he had experienced.

However, as August continued to sit there and watch the other man in the moonlight, things only seemed to get worse. Lampwick started to jerk and thrash about a little and August knew he would have no choice but to wake him. Sleeping on the narrow couch that was almost too small for his long frame, Lampwick was almost definitely going to hurt himself if things continued like this.

“Hey,” August whispered, as he stepped across and bent over to gently lay a hand on Lampwick’s shoulder. “Lampwick, wake up.” 

Instantly, Lampwick jolted awake, almost hitting August in the face as a hand shot out and he scrambled to sit up in the bed. With wide eyes and ragged breathing, it took a few seconds before he seemed to actually register what was going on.

“Shit,” he said, letting out a long sigh. He rubbed his forehead. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

“You didn’t,” August said quietly. “I was...having trouble sleeping as well.” 

Lampwick nodded to himself but he didn’t say a word.

“Are you okay?” August asked. “That looked pretty bad.” 

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

That was a lie if ever August heard one. 

"Are you sure?" he asked again. 

"Yeah. Don't worry. Just need a second, that's all." 

“Well,” August said, standing up in full, “me too. I’m just going to head outside for some fresh air. Just...I...I can’t be on this boat right now.” 

Lampwick sat up a little more.

“Do you mind if I join you?” 

“No. I’d...I’d like the company, actually.” 

“Cool,” Lampwick said, still sounding out of breath. “Let me grab my coat. It’s fucking freezing.” 

Soon, the pair of them were both off the boat and out on the docks. It was just past 4:30am, according to Lampwick’s phone, and August knew there would likely be people arriving on the docks soon, if they stayed out there for too long. Frankly, he didn’t really care. If he was going to see his father today anyway, it probably didn’t matter if some fisherman caught a glimpse of him beforehand. Right now, he just needed to be away from the swaying of the boat.

They had both sat down just beyond where it was anchored. Legs dangling over the edge of the pier, they each sat quietly next to one another, staring out at the dark sea. As expected, Lampwick was already smoking. He let out a long exhale before saying,

“See, now, this was why the curse was nice sometimes. All those nightmares were banished. Nightmares I hadn't really had for a long time now. Not very often, at least.”

August could only speculate about what those nightmares were.

“Is this…” he started before swiftly coming to the realisation that Lampwick probably didn’t want to talk about the nightmare he’d just had.

“I was back there,” Lampwick said, instantly proving August wrong. “Back at the farm.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

Lampwick shrugged as though none of it really mattered.

“Been so long since any of that I just...I guess I thought I was finally over it. But, that’s probably the kind of crap you don’t ever get over, right?” 

August could agree with that statement. Particularly given the nightmare he had just experienced himself.

An anxious thought from earlier crossed August’s mind.

“Is that where you got the scars on your back? If you don’t mind me asking?” 

Lampwick turned to him with a grin. 

“Watching me undress, huh?”

“I-I didn’t mean to, I just-”

Lampwick playfully pushed August’s arm. 

“I’m only fucking with you.” Then, a little more seriously, he said, “but yeah...That’s… that's where they came from. As it turned out, I wasn’t very good at being a donkey. Carrot on the stick didn’t work too well with me. So, the farmer resorted to...well, just the stick.” Lampwick’s voice got a little quieter and his eyes more downcast as he continued talking. “Guy felt pretty bad after I transformed back into my real self again. Even offered to help me out, but I was way too freaked out about the whole thing. Ran off as soon as I was able.” 

“What about afterwards? After all that?”

Despite extensive conversations between the pair of them over the past week or so, they had barely touched on their lives in the Enchanted Forest. Kept the conversation focused on Storybrooke and the modern world outside it as much as they possibly could. 

“Moved on from it all. Found my mamma again, eventually. I’m not saying it was all smooth sailing but things were mostly okay for a long while.” Lampwick tossed the cigarette butt into the water below and August bit back a comment about just how bad that would be for the sealife. “Thought about you sometimes, you know. Wondered what the hell you were up to. If you were even alive at all.” 

“Me too,” August agreed. “About you, I mean. For a while, at least.”

“You were really a puppet for twenty years, huh?” 

“Yeah. And it wasn’t something I really wanted to relive again.” 

Lampwick stared at him. It was a look more genuine and meaningful than any he had given before.

“Something will change. Might take some time but...It’ll get better. I promise.” He looked back at the dark ocean in front of them. “Helps to talk about this stuff, you know? About the past, the nightmares, all that.” 

“Are you my psychiatrist now?”

"I'm your friend," he said and August couldn’t help but feel childishly happy about those words. "And, look, I don't claim to know everything you went through. I’m sure that the name calling and stuff I saw at school was only the tip of the iceberg…”

He wasn’t wrong about that. Lampwick punched someone at school once, when a couple of the kids had tried to tie a string to August’s wrists. That had got him in a world of trouble with the teacher, but he had hardly stopped smiling the whole time and the bully hadn’t dared bother him since.

"But," continued Lampwick, "a lot of that crap…We went through it together. Some of it anyway. And almost no one else here is gonna get that.” He shuffled slightly, bringing one of his knees up to his chest. “What I'm saying is, if you need to talk to me about it, you can.”  

The sun started to creep across the edge of the horizon and the pair sat quietly and watched it rise for a while. The words “I will,” sat just on the tip of August’s tongue.

---

Both of them had gone back to sleep for a while after that. After all, it was still early enough to warrant a couple of extra hours if they could get them. They both needed them, that was for sure.

Surprisingly, Lampwick woke up before August did. The cold morning air had crept right through him and he only imagined that August was still sleeping because the man made of wood couldn’t feel it. Sneaking past him, doing his utmost not to wake the other man, Lampwick carefully crept up the stairs and out the door. Barely a moment passed before he heard a voice call out to him.

“Romeo!” 

It was Leroy.

“Oh,” Lampwick said, rapidly shutting the door behind him and walking off the boat and onto the dock. “Morning.” 

“I haven’t seen you much lately.”

“Yeah, well, that’s not my fault,” said Lampwick. “I don’t mean to pry Leroy but I saw you at Granny’s the other day. Seems that you’ve been pretty busy with a certain someone. Are you even allowed to date a nun?”

“She’s not a nun. The curse chose that, not her.”

“‘Kay, well, are you allowed to date a fairy?”

“No, but, you know what? I’m sick of being told what I can and can’t do. We’re not in the Enchanted Forest anymore. Things are changing in the town and I’m changing with them.” 

“Well, I can sure as hell support that sentiment. I’m happy for you. Seriously.”

A little smile found its way onto the dwarf’s face. Lampwick didn’t think he’d ever seen him smile like that before -outside of the man’s date the other day- and almost shocked him to see it.

“Thanks,” Leroy said before his typical frown returned and his face looked ever the same as it used to. “Anyway, speaking of things changing, did you hear that Greg Mendell is still in town?” 

“What?” 

“The outsider. He won’t leave. Happy was out on one of his walks yesterday afternoon. Ran into him in the middle of the forest somewhere. Apparently the guy loves it here. Wants to stay a little longer.” 

“Shit.” 

“Yeah. I tried to tell them all he was bad news. Still think they should have let him bleed out at the hospital.” 

“Leroy, ” Lampwick chided, although not with as much indignity as someone like Snow White might have. 

“I’m serious. This Mendell guy? He’s really gonna rock the boat here." There was a long pause and a frustrated sigh before he said, “speaking of...How is she?"

Lampwick frowned. 

“How’s who?”

Leroy gestured behind him at the sailboat.

“Oh,” he said as clarity hit him, “same as it’s ever been, I guess.” 

“You’re not gonna try and fix her?” 

Lampwick stuffed his hands into his pockets.

“I guess?” 

Leroy moved to pat him on the arm a couple of times before he started to walk away, heading towards his own boat.

"Curse is over buddy,” he said as he trotted down the dock. “Stop living by the Queen’s rules. Nobody needs that.” 

Lampwick took a few moments for himself and his thoughts as he stood out there on the docks, Leroy’s words echoing in his mind. Finally, he made a retreat back to the boat. He opened up the door as quietly as he could but apparently there was no need. August was awake and standing in the centre of the room, almost making Lampwick jump as he crept down the staircase.

"You need to stop doing that,” he said as he closed the door behind him.

"Did he just say that there's an outsider in town?" August asked, instantly banishing any notion of idle chatter that morning.

"Yeah,” Lampwick said as he reached the bottom of the steps.

"Why didn’t you tell me?" 

“‘Cause I knew it'd freak you out.”

Obviously freaking out, August sat down on the couch, shaking his head.

“I can’t risk being seen by someone outside of town.” 

Lampwick hurried over to the opposite couch and sat across from him in order to look the other man in the eye.

“You won’t be.”

“If he believes in magic and sees me like this-”

“Come on, how likely is that he believes? He’s just some guy, right? And anyway, you probably won't even cross paths. Storybrooke is huge.”

“I...I can’t...What if he does see me? What if he calls someone, tries to make a spectacle of the whole thing? I’m…” He looked away, his voice barely a mutter as he said, “I won’t be a circus act again, Lampwick. I can’t.” 

Again.

That single word weighed down in the pit of Lampwick’s stomach. 

He didn't know much about what had happened during August’s twenty-odd years as a puppet -his curse memories of the Disney movie were vague and hazy at best and he expected they probably weren't very accurate anyway- but he knew that life had never proved to be easy for his friend. 

The pair sat in silence for a moment.

“You can’t hide here forever,” he said ever so quietly. 

“Just...Let me stay another week. I mean, surely Greg Mendell isn’t looking to actually buy property in Storybrooke, right? He’ll leave and then…Then I’ll face up to things. I promise.” 

---

Two days had passed since their conversation about Greg Mendell and August had been feeling worse and worse with every hour that had passed. Guilt wormed around his stomach, threatening to chew him up from the inside out.

Lampwick, apparently, hadn’t realised that August didn’t even need to leave the boat in order to face his father. That he could easily bring his father here and have a reunion straight away, dealing with the Greg Mendell issue at a later date. 

August hadn’t been lying when he’d talked of being worried about being seen by an outsider. Of course he was terrified, and it wasn’t something he was keen to risk anytime soon. But he would also be lying if he said he wasn’t using it as the perfect excuse to hide out here just a little longer.

Not expecting Lampwick to appear until the afternoon when he would finish work, August was surprised to hear a couple of knocks at the door. 

“Hey. Can I come in?” asked Lampwick’s voice from outside. 

Yet to unlock the door that morning, August got up and slowly clambered up the steps. After letting Lampwick inside, the pair of them sat down on the couches, facing one another. The mood radiating off Lampwick was strange and unreadable. Something nervous in his energy despite the smile on his face.

“So,” he said, rubbing his hands on his knees. “Guess who just got fired?”

August frowned at him. Of all the conversations he was expecting to have this morning, this wasn’t one of them.

“You?” 

“Uh, huh.” 

“Why are you smiling about it?”

Lampwick stopped fidgeting.

“Look, it’s not exactly the best news I’ve ever been given but…” He idly scratched at his hand. “I don’t know, you mentioned it a little while ago and then Leroy said something the other morning and...I’m thinking that maybe you were both right. Maybe this is a good thing. That I can finally be free of that craphole now I’ve been literally forced to leave it.” 

August’s quizzical frown didn’t lift.

“Why did they fire you?”

“Well, they didn’t exactly fire me. The whole place is shutting down. They say that it’s only temporary but all of us know they can’t afford to reopen. Not for a long time at least. People kept quitting, and not just people on my level either. One of the big bosses left yesterday. Said he used to be a fish or something -back in the Enchanted Forest- and that this was too much for him.” 

With Lampwick out of a job, it meant that he would likely be spending more time on the boat with August, and that was a prospect that stirred up mixed feelings inside of him. August enjoyed Lampwick’s company. He liked having the other man around. Having someone to talk to, after having spent weeks alone in that trailer, had proved more of a relief for him than he had first anticipated it might. 

But it was also a reminder that he was still procrastinating from doing the right thing. That his father and Emma and Jiminy were all out there, worrying about him. Assuming he was dead when he was really just out here, burying his head in the sand. Shirking his responsibilities in favour of running away with Lampwick and pretending like none of it mattered. 

Again.

August didn’t need reminding of just how poorly things had turned out for the pair of them the first time they did something like that.

August said nothing and only watched as Lampwick took his phone from his coat pocket. He was only checking the time. August never saw him actually use it to call or text someone. 

“By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask,” Lampwick began as he put the phone back, “have you got a mobile?” 

“Urm, I did? But it’s back at the trailer. The battery has been dead for weeks now.” 

“Why’d you leave it there? You could have borrowed my charger.” 

“Lampwick, who am I going to call?” 

Lampwick folded his arms across his chest and tilted his head a little.

“I can give you my number and you can call me,” he said with a mischievous smile. 

“I’m living on your sailboat. I don’t think it’ll be hard for you to get in touch with me if you wanted to. Especially now you’re jobless.” 

“Right now, sure,” Lampwick agreed. “But what about afterwards? When you’re gone.” 

August didn’t like those last words. Didn’t like how permanent they felt. Or how inevitable. It left a sour kind of dread in his heart that was brought on by the fear and anxiety of change.

Even so, he knew that denying the opportunity to get his phone and Lampwick’s number would only fuel that fear of change. That it would only guarantee he would sink further into that  pit and mentally allow himself to feel comfortable in that procrastination

“Plus,” Lampwick continued before August could reply, “won't hurt to be able to contact each other now anyway. Just in case this Greg guy really is bad news.” He granted August a long, purposeful stare. “And I’m not saying he will be, mind you, but...better to be safe, right?” 

August thought for a moment. 

“You know you’ll have to go back and fetch it for me?” he said finally. “That, or I’ll wait until night and-”

“I’ll get it,” Lampwick insisted. “Don’t worry, I’ll go. Then you can charge it up here and you’ll be all set to go.” 

---

Greg Mendell still hadn’t left town. 

Lampwick was starting to get frustrated by the whole ordeal. He had even been considering going and talking to him, trying to figure out exactly what could be keeping him in boring old Storybrooke, but had decided against it when he realised how suspicious that conversation would have looked. He didn’t want to make the man too curious and give him even more of a reason to stick around.

Even so, he felt like he needed to come up with something soon, or else August might never leave that damn boat.

Just as he finished giving Ruby his order, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

Finally.

He had texted August a couple of times that morning but the other man hadn’t bothered replying to any of them until now. Of course, he hadn’t been texting anything important, so the lack of response wasn’t anything too troubling, but Lampwick was still relieved to finally hear from him.

Fishing the mobile from his coat pocket, he looked at the new message.

‘Stop texting me when it’s not urgent.’

Unsure as to whether he should take offence or simply laugh it off, Lampwick replied with a:

‘Why? :( ’

His coffee and pastry order arrived before the next text did. Taking it, he was just about to head out the door before his phone buzzed again. Opting not to risk dropping the paper bag or coffee whilst he checked the message, he set them back down on the countertop and pulled out his phone again.

‘Wooden hands don’t make typing easy.’

Because of course it would be twice as tricky for him. Even so, Lampwick swiftly typed back with a sarcastic:

‘r u sure ur not just mad that I’m interrupting ur very busy schedule of doing nothing?’

Deciding he would stay in the diner for another moment or two as he waited for a reply from August, Lampwick took a sip of his coffee, cursing when the scorching liquid burnt his tongue a little. Preoccupied as he was, he barely even noticed when the bell to the door jangled and a stranger walked past him.

Much quicker than the last reply, his phone vibrated again.

‘Funny.’

Grinning, Lampwick replied with:

‘I think so.’

The stranger, a young woman, stood right beside Lampwick at the counter. Lampwick continued to barely acknowledge her presence as he read the reply from August.

‘That’s because you’re an asshole.’

Lampwick’s grin grew even broader.

‘Why r u still txting me then? :)’

Fully expecting August to deliberately take a while in replying to that one, he turned to grab his steaming hot coffee and food from the counter to go. However, as Granny came to greet the newcomer, something she said made him freeze in his tracks.

“Haven’t seen you around before. You new in town?”

The woman laughed. It was light and airy but something about it sounded forced. The exact kind of laugh you might expect from someone trying to be polite and nothing more.

“I am new in town, actually, yes,” the woman replied, still with a tense smile on her face. “I was told Storybrooke was pretty quiet but I guess I didn’t anticipate just how well the locals would all know one another.”

Lampwick went to drink another sip of his coffee in an attempt to look less like he was purposefully eavesdropping. Already having forgotten just how hot it was, he bit back another curse when the coffee burnt his tongue a second time.

“We don’t get a lot of tourists here,” Granny continued. “Not to mention, I’m pretty good with faces. I remember almost everyone that comes and goes in my diner, and almost everyone in town has been here at least once in the last twenty-odd years or so.”

“Well, I’m not exactly a tourist. I’m here with my fiance.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, he’s here for his son. One that...One that neither of us knew about, actually.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” the woman said with a grimace, before brightening a little. “But I’m here to support him, no matter what. And it sounds like you’ve got a pretty tight knit community here. I’m sure we’ll be just fine.”

“Sure,” Granny said with an equally tight smile. “Anyway, what can I get you?”

Lampwick felt his phone buzz but he didn’t bother looking at the message yet.

“Bagels,” the woman replied, “if you have them.”

“We sure do.”

As the woman continued with her order and the conversation evaporated into nothing of interest, Lampwick reached for his phone again.

‘Maybe I’m just humouring you. :)’

Lampwick allowed himself a smile at that, but it was tiny and fleeting. Greg Mendell was one problem but this new woman in town was another altogether, and with two outsiders now in town, there was every chance that even more would soon follow.

For a moment, his thumb hovered over the keypad. He wanted to tell August about this new woman in town. After all, that was half the point in him getting August his phone back in the first place. To keep him up to date on what was happening and let him know if there were any big changes in the town.

Still, Lampwick was terrified this might be the tipping point for him. Something that would push him to take leave into the woods again, or wherever else he could hide out for the foreseeable future, and Lampwick couldn’t let that happen.

“Well,” Granny said as she handed over a particularly large paper bag, “enjoy your bagels.”

“Thank you.”

The woman took the bag and headed straight out the door. Lampwick waited a while before he made his own exit, giving himself enough time to drink almost half his scalding coffee. Finally, he silently picked up his own order and slipped out the door.

---

Lampwick almost headed straight to his boat. Almost. Because, as he was walking through the town, an idea crossed his mind and, not knowing what else to do, he all but forced himself to follow up on it. 

Taking a sharp right, he marched through the sleepy streets and over to a building he didn’t particularly want to enter. Once inside, he clambered up the stairs until he reached a door. His hand stopped just as he curled it into a fist and held it up to tap on the door. Pushing back his doubts, he knocked three times and waited. 

The door opened and revealed the ex-cricket; Dr. Archie Hopper. 

“Can I help you?” he asked with a frown. 

Lampwick craned his neck to peer past the man’s shoulder, mentally sighing when he saw that there was no one else around. Archie seemed a little tenser all of a sudden, subtly starting to move the door to shut it.

“I hope so.” 

Lampwick didn’t wait for an invitation. 

“U-Urm,” Archie stammered as Lampwick pushed past him. “I’m sorry, I only accept patients by appointment.” 

After barging past the therapist, Lampwick set his half-drank coffee and unopened bag of doughnuts onto the table and turned back around to face him.

“Look, I know you’ve been busy being dead and stuff but-”

“I think you need to leave.” Archie’s voice was firm and his stare hard.

“No, no, Cricket, you don’t understand. Let me just-”

“Now.” 

Lampwick looked up to the ceiling for a second, taking a deep breath in through his nose. He swiftly followed it with a harsh, frustrated sigh.

“It’s about August. About Pinocchio.”

He didn’t want to snitch on his friend. That was something they had both promised to never do. Ever. But that was when they were children. That was when promises like that were made to spare the other being told off by the teacher or a parent for a prank or some other kind of harmless mischief. 

Now, they were adults even though both of them were still acting like children. It had to stop. 

“I know where he is.” 

“What?” 

“He’s not dead, he’s just... wooden . He’s a puppet again.” 

Archie didn’t seem to know what to do with himself. 

“What are...Who are you?” 

“I’m...Lampwick.” 

Archie’s mouth hung open a little and his eyes narrowed, stuck in a perplexed frown for just a few seconds before sudden clarification washed over him. He closed his mouth, his eyebrows lifted and he blinked a few times as the realisation came to him.

“Oh my goodness.”

Lampwick tried not to squirm too much under the gaze of the doctor. He hadn’t exactly been too kind to him all those years ago and had no idea how he would be treated now because of it. Not only had he told the bug to ‘buzz off’ probably one too many times, but he had even taken a few swipes at the insect when he had been in a particularly foul mood. He only hoped that Archie was willing to put any ill feelings aside, at least for the time being, so they could both help August.

“Yeah,” he dismissed, trying to move things on as quickly as he could. “So, anyway, I need some advice.”

“Advice?” Archie parroted. “You’re not going to tell me where he is?” 

Lampwick looked off to the side sheepishly. 

“Depends. Look, he...” Lampwick sat himself down on the big leather chair of the office, perched right on the edge of the seat. “He doesn’t wanna be found.”

Archie gently shut the door closed before making his way over to the couch and sitting down as well. 

“Why not?”

“It’s…”

The phrase ‘not my place to say’ almost crossed his lips.

Was it his place to say? How much snitching was too much? Why was he even here in the first place?

“Lampwick,” Archie said, not without softness, “you know that Marco has been worried sick? That I’ve been worried sick. We were both hoping for the best, but still fearing the very worst. I can see that you want to protect him but...You can’t hide him away. He needs to talk with his father.” 

Lampwick’s gaze drifted downwards and he stared aimlessly at the tacky red carpet below. Archie really needed to redecorate. 

“I tried to talk to him but...I don’t wanna force him to do anything. In case he leaves.” He looked back up at the psychiatrist with a troubled frown. His words got a little more frantic as he spoke. “Just when I thought he was actually gonna listen to me, this Greg Mendell guy refuses to leave town, and now this new woman is here too and I don’t know what to do. He worried that...Was worried about being seen by someone out of town.”

Archie nodded sagely. 

“Because he’s a puppet again?”

“Yeah.” Lampwick shifted uncomfortably in the chair. “And, you know, he told me that he talked with the Blue Fairy already. About changing him back to a human and stuff. But she told him she can’t. That it goes against her stupid ass rules or something.” His tone slowly changed to something considerably more snappy. “Sounds like bullshit if you ask me but whatever. I guess it’s her fucking magic and she knows best right?” 

Realising just how irate he was starting to get, Lampwick quickly reigned in his frustration. He pursed his lips and waited patiently for the other man to respond. Archie’s expression was nothing but thoughtful and calm the entire time. 

“How long have you known about this?” he asked before quickly placing a palm out in front of him in a defensive manner, hurriedly adding, “I’m not accusing you of anything. I just need to know how long you’ve been helping him hide for.” 

Lampwick shrugged. 

“Couple weeks.” 

“I see…” 

There was a quiet in the room as the therapist mulled over the new information. Only the gentle sound of a ticking clock to be heard. Lampwick reached over and grabbed his warm coffee from the low glass table before pointing at the paper bag it had been sat next to. 

“Doughnut in there if you want it,” he said before taking a long sip of the coffee.

Archie returned the offer with a very quiet smirk and a polite, “no, thank you.” Then, leaning over a little more in his seat, he stared seriously at him and said, “Lampwick, I know that you and I haven’t always seen eye to eye.” 

Lampwick smiled and placed the cup back on the table.

“That’s an understatement.” 

“Probably,” the ex-cricket returned, “but either way, you’re an adult now, and a lot has changed over these past years.” His brow furrowed as he continued to talk seriously with him. “I can see that you’ve been trying to be a good friend and do the right thing. And I am so thankful for that, genuinely, but...Well, from the sounds of things you’ve been -for lack of a better word- babying him. He needs to face up to this. It’s not fair on him and it's not fair on Marco either. You can’t let him bury his head in the sand forever.” 

“I know...it’s just...It feels like...Like I’m betraying him, you know?” 

“I understand, I do. But I promise you, this is what’s best for him.”

Lampwick nervously tapped a finger on the arm of the chair. 

“But what about Greg Mendell? Or this other woman? August is right, he can't be seen by an outsider. "

"I agree," Archie said with a firm nod. "It could be devastating for both him and the rest of Storybrooke." 

"Then what do we do?" 

"Bring Marco to him.To wherever August is staying right now. Let them talk to one another. I don't know where to begin with the other side of things -in helping him to become human again or handling the newcomers in town- but something here has to change. It's not healthy for anyone involved, keeping things the way they are right now. The process has to start with something." 

Lampwick involuntarily tensed his jaw as he thought through the situation. 

“Let me talk with him again,” he said, finally. “One more time. Give him the chance to make things right himself. If he seems open to the idea then…”

“One more time,” Archie agreed, although he seemed apprehensive about the suggestion. “Talk with him once more. But if he won’t face up to things by tomorrow, you know that I’m going to have to tell Marco whether August wants him to know or not. He’s my friend and I won’t let him continue to grieve for a son that isn’t dead.” 

“‘Kay,” Lampwick said, carefully standing up from the chair. He picked up the empty coffee cup and bag of untouched pastries. “Urm, thanks.”

“Thank you,” Archie said, also standing up, looking at him with a stare so genuine and serious that Lampwick couldn’t help but feel almost embarrassed under the gaze. “And please, let me know he decides.” 

---

Lampwick hadn’t replied to August’s last text, which was a little surprising considering just how eager the other man had been during the rest of their exchange with one another. Still, August tried not to think too much of it as he sat in the boat.

He knew that Lampwick was only joking when he accused him of being ‘busy doing nothing’ but he hadn’t actually been wrong. He couldn’t read right now, even if he wanted to, because he’d finished all his books about two days ago, and any kind of writing was impossible without the proper motivation. Now, he was left with nothing but his own, tired thoughts.

He stared down at the phone in his hand. Clicking off of his and Lampwick's conversation he went into his contacts menu instead. He scrolled down the relatively short list, past faces he had long since left in the dust, past Emma -whose number had eventually been persuaded from her- right until he reached the letter 'M'. 

Marco. 

August hadn't really wanted to share numbers with him, but his father had insisted. Had gently bullied it out of him, suggesting that, if they were working together for a little while, they should be able to contact one another. 

His thumb hovered over the call button. 

He could do it right now. Ring his father and tell him everything. Confess all the wrong he'd ever done and wait to see how he reacted to it. 

He could let him know he was alive. Not necessarily okay, but alive.

His heart beat a little faster and he felt a tight squeeze in his lungs as he subconsciously held his breath. 

Three knocks at the door interrupted him. 

"It's open," he said absentmindedly, before it suddenly occurred to him that it might not be Lampwick at the door. 

Hurriedly, he slipped his phone into his jacket and stood to his feet as the door swung open and someone that was obviously not Lampwick appeared at the entrance. 

The woman he had stolen from, the one he would have left to die in Hong Kong, was here in Storybrooke, staring straight at him.

"So it really was you," she said, looking at him with a wide eyed expression. 

August was frozen to the spot. He didn't say a word as she gestured a hand towards the inside of the boat. 

"May I?" 

August moved back a couple of paces but only said, "what are you doing here?" as she trotted down the steps. 

"I… I saw you on the docks the other morning. I wasn't sure but, well, I had to come and see for myself…" 

"See what?" he asked in a flat voice, already knowing exactly what she meant. 

“When you said you had a skin condition, this wasn’t exactly what I had pictured in my mind.”

“So, you can see me?” 

She laughed lightly. 

“Come on,” she said with a casual tilt of her head and a lazy smile. “Do you really think I would have tracked down a guy called ‘The Dragon’ if I didn’t believe in magic?”

With that confirmation, August felt very ill all of a sudden. Panic started to set in but he held fast, trying to keep his voice and demeanor as calm as possible.

“Why are you here?” 

“I’m here with my fiance. He had to come to Storybrooke because of some family troubles. So, I came with him. Unless you meant, why am I here talking with you?” 

“I meant both.” 

“I told you. I saw you on the docks and...Well, I have something to offer you.”

“Offer me?”

“The Dragon, his magic, it cured me August.” She didn’t break her gaze as she spoke with him. “And it could cure you too. I still have some of it left. It’s back at my apartment, hidden in my jewelry box.”

This was certainly an interesting predicament. August felt a wave of uncertainty wash over him. It was definitely an offer that sounded far too good to be true.

“Do you...Do you want money for it, or…?” 

Tamara pulled a face.

“Money? No. Look, I know you probably feel guilty about what happened in Hong Kong. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t furious about it at the time but…” She shrugged nonchalantly. “I get it, you were desperate. You were someone trying to save themselves, exactly like I was. And that’s what I’m offering here, August; Salvation.”

---

After his talk with Dr. Hopper, Lampwick made his way through town and over to the docks. Knocking a couple of times on the door before he called out a quick “hey, it’s me,” he waited patiently for a response from the other man. There was nothing. 

A tight dread already in his heart, he tried the door handle. To his surprise, it opened, and he hurried down the steps and inside, quick to spot the set of keys on the counter. He picked them up and swore under his breath. Whipping out his phone and checking for any new messages he might have missed, cursed again when nothing new was revealed. 

He figured that if August had gone back to see his dad, then he would have at least bothered to message Lampwick first, wouldn’t he?

On the other hand, if August had done a runner, left for good, Lampwick knew there would be no guarantee of a goodbye message. That August would likely be feeling far too guilt-ridden and troubled for something like that. Frankly, he was almost shocked that August hadn’t left his phone here alongside the keys. That he hadn’t attempted to cut all forms of communication completely. 

Just as Lampwick was about to make a very angry phone call, his phone screen lit up and started to vibrate. August was already calling him.

“Hey, w-”

August quickly cut him off.

“Lampwick,” 

“Where are you? Wh-” 

And again.

“Lampwick, where are you right now?” 

“Hey, come on, I asked you first.”

“Please. Are you back at your boat?” 

“Yeah. Why?”

August made some kind of odd, frustrated noise on the other end of the phone which was quickly followed up by, “you need to leave, right now. Come back to that trailer I was living in and I can explain things in full there. I just don’t know how safe it is for you there right now.”

“How safe?” Lampwick repeated with a disbelieving raise of his eyebrows. “What the hell happened? You okay? Why wouldn’t it be…” He trailed off as a shadow eclipsed the boat’s open doorway and a woman with a gun appeared on the steps. “Shit.”  

---

After having been offered both the possibility of a cure, and a car in which to access it with, August had left the boat. 

He hadn’t driven very far, only somewhere at the edge of the forest. Somewhere that was far enough away from that woman, just in case she should be bothered enough to come looking for him. Only once he was sure he was alone -that he wasn’t being followed by anyone- did he stop the car. Only then, he had searched it.

After finding some legal papers in the glove box that did little more except reveal her name, he had searched elsewhere for anything that might tell him a little more about who this woman really was and what she wanted. 

She had been lying to him on the boat back there.

For starters, he couldn’t help but wonder just when or how she had spotted him on the docks that morning, not unless she was deliberately spying on him. It would have been a pretty spectacular coincidence otherwise.

Secondly, August couldn’t help but notice that she had used his name. 

If she had called him Pinocchio, that would have been one thing. Given his present condition, it could have easily been brushed off as a fair -albeit somewhat rude- comment that nearly anyone could have made. No. This was about her calling him ‘August’, a name he had never once bothered to give her himself.

And if those weren’t red flags enough, the photo he found -a photo of Tamara and her Grandmother- tucked in the sun mirror surely was.

August held his breath as the phone went very quiet down the other end. 

“Lampwick?” he tried in a voice that was almost too quiet to be heard down the phone. 

“He can’t come to the phone right now,” came the voice of a man that was distinctly not Lampwick. August felt his heart in his throat.

“What...Who are you? What have you done to him?” 

There was a fumbling sound and the voice on the phone changed once more. It was Tamara.

“He’s fine.” 

“What do you want?” 

“What I wanted was for you to leave town for a little while and mind your own business. Unfortunately for both you and your friend here, apparently you couldn’t even do that. So, new plan, you come back to the docks and we talk this over in person. Maybe we can come to an agreement of some kind?” 

“Give the phone to Lampwick. Let me talk to him first.” 

There was a very long pause down the other end of the phone. Finally, Tamara returned him with a flat, “fine.” 

August allowed himself a tiny modicum of relief with that. If Tamara really had killed the Dragon, like he suspected, then she likely wouldn’t be above killing someone like Lampwick as well. Knowing that he was at least alive was something, no matter how small.

“August,” came a hurried voice from the other end of the phone. “These two are fucking insane. They have a gun and-” 

For a moment August thought the call had been cut off, the break was so abrupt, but Tamara’s voice soon came back on the line again.

“He’s fine, but he might not be if you don’t meet us. Or if you try anything before you get here. I want you on the phone the whole way here." 

“Okay,” he said eventually, the poisonous fear in his gut unrelenting, “I’ll meet you.”

--- 

The gun pointed directly at Lampwick was a formidable presence that he still wasn’t sure how to deal with.

If it had been a fistfight, something fair and down to earth, he probably could have taken them both. Even in a fight with two against one, he was still confident enough in his own abilities that a hands on fight between them seemed beatable. Using a loaded gun was cheating. It was dirty and it didn’t sit well with Lampwick at all.

If the docks had been a little busier that morning he might have taken a risk and called out for help. At the very least, he might have casually tried to grab someone’s attention. But it was cold and a thin mist had settled in the air. The harbour was quiet, to say the least. He wouldn’t risk being shot by the gun that the woman -he had heard Greg call her Tamara- had carefully positioned at him from inside her coat pocket. 

Being used as bait was also something that didn’t sit well with him, but as soon as they had found their way into the empty cannery, he had quickly been forced completely into that role. Removing the gun from her pocket, Tamara remained on the phone with August as Greg Mendell used silver duct tape to bind his wrists behind his back.

“What the fuck do you want?” Lampwick spat. 

Greg said nothing as he cut the strip of tape and Tamara continued talking on the phone.

“This isn’t up for debate, August.” There was a pause followed by a short, “uh, huh,” and eventually a cold, “and if you know that, then you know I’m serious about the situation here.” 

Lampwick tried again. 

“Hey, asshole, I know that she’s on the phone right now but you can still talk, right? If I’m being kidnapped, you could at least tell me why.”

“You,” Greg said, moving around to face him, “are not relevant in any of this.” 

“But August is?” 

“Not really, but he knows too much about us.”

“Knows what?” Lampwick scowled.

“Owen,” Tamara hissed, looking at Greg and making a vague gesture with her weapon towards Lampwick. 

Greg -or was that Owen?- stared blankly at her. Tamara briefly held the phone to her chest and out of August’s earshot. She huffed in frustration.

“Tape his mouth,” she said flatly, before returning to the call.

Obediently, Greg cut a small strip of tape. Lampwick had just enough time to deliver a bitter, “fuck you,” before Greg smoothed the tape over his mouth and it was sealed shut. 

Soon after, the pair marched him through the building, through several corridors to one of the large, open rooms at the back. With the cannery on the downhill for the past twenty-eight years, this was an area that had been abandoned long before the place had been more recently shut down for good. Previously used for extra storage, the wide space was almost completely empty now. A few old crates were littered around the edges of the dark room, alongside a few stacks of old plastic chairs, but otherwise the room was sparse and abandoned.

Tamara had given the gun to Greg in order to focus her full attention on the phone conversation and was currently talking idly to August on the other end. Leaving Lampwick in the centre of the room for only a moment, Greg stalked across to one of the piles of chairs and pulled one off the top. After setting it on the floor, he quickly turned back to face Lampwick again, assuring that the gun was pointed towards him the entire time. Dragging the chair across to him, he set it beside him and told him to “sit down,” pushing down on Lampwick’s shoulder as he did so.

“So, who is this guy anyway?” he asked. 

“Pinocchio’s friend,” Tamara answered casually. 

“No, I mean, what fairytale character is he?” 

Tamara rolled her eyes. 

“You still there?” She asked in a flat voice, obviously talking to August down the phone. After a pause of what was presumably confirmation, she answered Greg. “I thought you were meant to know more about Storybrooke than me?” 

“I know about the key players.” 

“But didn’t you ever watch the Disney movie as a kid?” 

Greg shook his head. 

“No.” 

“Well, he was some bratty kid that was turned into a donkey.”

The way she talked about him so candidly - and not only that, but so casually, as though he wasn’t even real- sent a burning rage straight through Lampwick. Talking about the past with August, with Pinocchio, was one thing. Hearing someone else talk about it was another altogether and it angered him and terrified him in equal measure.

“Talk to me, August,” Tamara demanded down the phone. “I’m going to pass you over.” 

She handed the phone across to Greg, exchanging it for the gun. Moving over to Lampwick, she reached down and ripped the tape from his mouth in one movement. Thankfully, it didn’t sting too much.

“You have another name, right?” She asked Lampwick. “A curse name that Regina, the Evil Queen, gave you.”

“Why?” 

She didn’t say a word in response, only grating him a deadpan look until he rolled his eyes and replied with, “Romeo.” 

She frowned at him with what Lampwick could only describe as ‘mock sympathy’, although he suspected she was trying to seem genuine. 

“Romeo, we don’t want to have to kill you. Or August.” She looked at Greg momentarily. “Neither of us want a murder on our hands. But, now that the pair of you know Owen and I aren’t exactly what we seem, we have to be sure you won’t tell anyone else.”

Lampwick narrowed his eyes.

“Right.”

“You have a boat. Maybe you go on a long trip out to sea?” 

“It's broken. Can’t go anywhere on it.”

“Well maybe you leave town for a different reason. I don’t care, so long as neither of you are going to get in our way.”

The threat of a murder still hung right at the tip of her tongue.  

“I don't know what you think you know about me," he began slowly, with a cold, wide-eyed stare, "but people will realise if I go missing.” 

“I know more about you than you think. I know that you’ve barely spoken with anyone outside of August these past few days. After Owen spotted the pair of you on the docks that morning, we’ve been keeping a close eye on both of you. I’m sure that, if you did suddenly go missing, the only person to realise it would be your work, right? And considering this cannery was abandoned less than a week ago, I don’t think you have to be too worried about not showing up for your shift.” 

Shit. 

He could try and bluff his way out. Mention Leroy, Archie, Ruby, Granny even, anyone that he had spoken to in the past week or so that wasn't August, but he knew that none of those names held any real gravitas.

“He’s nearly here,” Greg announced, interrupting any further chance of conversation. 

“Good." Tamara offered a hand out to take the phone. “May I?” 

After switching over the weapon and Lampwick's phone once more, Lampwick tried speaking with Greg again.

“So, what is this about, then? If it's got nothing to do with me or August?” 

Greg smirked darkly. There was a focus behind his eyes that set Lampwick on edge even more than he was already. 

“Let’s just say that the Evil Queen will finally be getting what’s coming to her.”

"What-"

“Babe, the tape,” Tamara instructed Greg, cutting him off instantly. 

Carefully, Greg cut another strip of tape from the roll before sticking it across Lampwick's mouth. Sealed once more, he could only wait in silent apprehension, hoping for an opportunity to fight back and break free. 

---

August could have signaled for help when he arrived at the docks, if there had been anyone around to help him. Instead, was only met with a dark corridor as he pushed through a broken door at the side of the cannery. Still on the phone with Tamara, he had followed her directions deeper into the building.

Hesitantly, he turned a corner to a large, open room. At its heart, sat Lampwick, his hands bound behind his back, the sight making August’s stomach lurch with fear. A man stood beside him, pointing a gun directly at his head, and Tamara was just a few feet away from them both. As soon as she spotted August, she ended the call and slipped the phone into her pocket.

“Oh my god,” August muttered under his breath as he took in the scene. His heart was racing and his hands trembling even more than they had been a few minutes ago.

“Give me the phone, August,” Tamara said as she walked steadily over to him, her heeled boots echoing in the vast space. 

August took a few steps towards her, the pair meeting part way across the room.

“Please don’t hurt him.”

“The phone,” she said flatly as she held out an expectant hand.

After August had carefully handed the mobile across, she started to search through it. As she did so, August tore his eyes from her and instead made eye contact with Lampwick from across the room, worried, haggard expressions plaguing them both.

“Shit,” Tamara scowled, staring intently at the phone. 

“What?” the man with the gun asked. “What is it?”

“He called the Sheriff before he called his friend.”

“I’m not an idiot,” August said in a stony voice.

"You were stupid enough not to delete your call history.”

August’s hard and serious demeanor didn’t change. He purposefully kept his voice flat, even in spite of his shaky hands, as he said,

“Maybe I wanted you to know. If you hurt me or Lampwick, Emma will know it was you.”

Slipping the phone into her other pocket, Tamara remained neutral.

“What did you tell her?” 

August shrugged. The pressing danger of the situation wouldn’t allow him to feel smug, things were far too serious for something like that, but he did feel lighter somehow. As though a weight had been lifted from him.

“Everything. I told her that I knew you. Told her why I knew you. About Hong Kong. That I suspected you were the one to kill the Dragon. That, whatever reason you were here in Storybrooke for, it wasn’t a good one.” He narrowed his eyes and stared at her curiously. “Why...Why are you here?” 

“This town is a disease. Magic is a disease.” She took a step closer towards him and August found himself taking a step backwards in return. “You know, I was ten years old when my brother disappeared. He was only seven at the time. Far too young to know any better. And, do you want to know what happened?” August didn’t have time to answer, although he suspected that the question was probably a rhetorical one anyway. “One night,” Tamara continued, “when I was sleeping, I woke up because I heard noise from his bedroom. Of course, I was worried, so I got out of bed and crept in there to check on him.

“When I got there, the window was wide open. Which was strange, because my brother couldn’t have even reached the locks to open it, never mind push all the way to the top like that. But, the ‘how’ didn’t matter for very long, because, just as I noticed him in the moonlight, standing right at the foot of that window, a shadow slipped in from the outside.

“It was like nothing I’d ever seen before, with these bright, empty eyes that stared right through me in the darkness. It terrified me.” She looked sadly at the floor for a moment. “I didn’t say a word, only watched, as it swept down like a hungry vulture and lifted my brother out through the window and into the night. Forever. He never came back.” Her voice and expression grew harder again as she looked back up at August. “It destroyed my family. My parents split up, they couldn’t deal with the loss -never got over it- and I was sent to go and live with my grandmother instead. 

“No one believed me when I told them what I’d seen that night. They thought I was making it up, using it as some kind of coping mechanism to deal with my brother’s disappearance, but I knew it was real. Luckily for me,” she continued, taking only a short moment to gesture vaguely at her partner in crime, “I found others just like me. Those who had also had their lives ruined by magical creatures like you.” 

“I-” August began before Tamara cut him off. 

“Owen came here over twenty years ago and his family was torn apart too.” 

“The Evil Queen,” Owen cut in, his hand still gripping the gun. “I know she killed my father.” 

August held his hands up at chest height in front of him, attempting to surrender himself as much as he could in an effort to calm the pair. He spared another fleeting look towards Lampwick, the latter of which almost appeared furious enough to tackle Owen to the ground, despite the presence of the gun.

“I’m sorry,” August said, very slowly, “about your brother.” Then, looking at Owen, added, “and your father. Truly.” He focused on Tamara again. “But don’t take out that grief on people like Lampwick. People that haven’t done anything to deserve this. Whatever it is the two of you are planning here, I won’t let you go through with it. Storybrooke is just like any other town. I’m not saying that everyone here is perfect, but all of us have suffered under Regina’s reign. Don’t add to that suffering.” 

“ Just like any other town? ” Owen repeated, before a hollow laugh escaped him. “No one here has aged in nearly thirty years. The Evil Queen, Rumplestiltskin, Captain Hook. Countless villains are just here, in the middle of Maine, doing whatever they feel like.” 

August could already feel himself losing this argument.

“But you know I’m not talking about them.”

“No,” said Tamara. She took a step towards him again. August backed off once more, finally lowering his hands just a little. “It’s not just about them. It’s about people like you, too. It’s…” She looked him up and down with a look of disgust. An exaggerated show of making a point about his current state. “Unnatural. What gives you the right to exist in our world? What gives freaks like you the right to ruin the lives of decent, normal people.” 

“I’m not perfect, I know. But I’m not the majority here. I don’t know if you’re trying to take away the magic or if you’re planning something else but...There are children here. Taking this out on me is one thing but...But the rest of the town...You know this is wrong.” 

“No, August. You, of all people, don’t get to lecture me about morals.” Her voice was cold and serious. There was a sharp, furious anger behind her eyes, kept on a leash and reined in just enough so that it didn’t completely spill out of her. “It doesn’t matter that I wasn't actually sick. You would have knowingly let me die. That was when things were confirmed for me, when you took that money, that was when I knew that you were all the same. Selfish. No normal person does something like that.”

“I’m sorry,” he choked out.

“Not good enough.” 

From out of her coat pocket, Tamara pulled an object about the size of a walkie-talkie. Without any hesitation she pushed it into August’s chest, swiftly revealing the object to be a taser as she turned it on and an instant pain pulsed through him. His hands flew to the weapon, but he had little strength to move it as his muscles tightened and his nervous system failed him. Dull waves of pain pulsed through him, each just as bad as the last.

Finally, one last burst of electricity shot right through him. Then, everything went black.

---

Lampwick felt as though all the air had been sucked straight from his lungs. 

August lay flat on his back, completely unmoving.

Lampwick also wasn’t moving, but that was because he was still gripped by shock.

“Is...Is he dead?” Greg asked, rapidly flicking his direction between August’s still form and Lampwick, as he attempted to keep the gun pointed at the latter.

“He should be,” replied Tamara cooly, walking away from August and closer to Greg and Lampwick. “It worked on the Dragon so…”

Lampwick felt a tsunami-sized wave of dread and nausea crash over him. His mind was fuzzy and his ears ringing. He barely even registered it when Greg asked,

“So what about this guy? Do you...Should I shoot him?” 

“No. I don't know what August told the sheriff. She probably doesn’t know that we’re here at the cannery but if August was worried about his friend then he might have mentioned his boat. If anyone is nearby they’ll probably hear a gunshot. It’s too risky right now. We need to talk to the Home Office. See if we can find another way to get the trigger and work things out from there.” 

Greg stared at Tamara with an anxious, bitter frown. 

“No, no...I need to talk with the Queen. I still haven’t found out the truth about my father.”

“Sweetie, we need to change plans.” 

Lampwick kept his focus on Greg. Pushing back the rage that was now pulsing through his blood, he sat still, waiting for an opportunity. The man seemed almost at the point of complete distraction. Maybe, thought Lampwick, he could charge the bastard. Make a run for it...

“No,” Greg argued. “No, August probably only told them about you, right? They don’t know that I’m involved.” Just as Lampwick considered taking a chance -just as he considered jumping to his feet and tackling both of them, even despite his bound hands- Greg rushed behind him. He used one hand -the one the gun was held in- to awkwardly grab the top of Lampwick’s head. Then, he placed his other hand across Lampwick’s face, blocking the air to his nose instantly. Lampwick reacted immediately to the attack, jerking his head and trying to stand from the chair, but Greg kept a heavy grip on him. With gravity against him, Lampwick would suffocate in no time if he couldn’t break free soon. “Look, we’ll just kill this guy first and- Tamara!”

Everything happened at once.

Loosening his grip on Lampwick, Greg swiftly pushed him to the ground. Lampwick and the chair fell to the cold floor with a hard clatter, feeling his cheek and shoulder bruise on impact. And he wasn’t the only one to fall to the floor. August, who was in fact not dead, had tackled Tamara to the floor. The taser in her hand had gone flying across the room like a hockey puck on an ice rink and she was left defenceless. August had swiftly recovered from the fall and, leaving Tamara on the ground, soon scrambled to face his second attacker. 

Greg, obviously flustered, fumbled with the gun in his hands. 

Before August could take two steps towards him, Greg pulled the trigger.

A deafening shot rang through the building and echoed in Lampwick’s eardrums. As he stared in awe at the scene before him, he couldn’t help but notice that August was still standing. At first, he figured that Greg must have missed the shot. That, in his panic, the man had still missed at what was nearly point blank range. 

He hadn't. 

The bullet had torn right through his leather jacket and wedged itself into the wooden body beneath. After a moment of stillness, the entire room in complete shock over what had just transpired, August stormed over to Greg. He grabbed the gun with one hand and harshly hit Greg across the face with his other. With Greg reeling from the hit, August was able to wrestle the weapon from his grasp as the other man stumbled away from him. He then whipped around to face Tamara.

Tamara had already gotten to her feet during the commotion, something Lampwick himself was trying desperately to do. He had just managed to push himself off his side and swivel onto his knees when Greg desperately hurried behind him. Producing from his pocket the pair of scissors he had used earlier to cut the duct tape with, he crouched down and held the closed blades to Lampwick’s neck. Gripping his shoulder with his other hand, he tugged on him, urging Lampwick to stand up with him.

Tamara, meanwhile, was staying very still, her hands up in surrender as August shakily pointed the gun in her direction. She had obviously run towards the taser but hadn’t quite made it in time, as it sat just a few feet away from her still. 

“Do you really wanna do this, August?” she said, her voice calm, her eyes wide and serious.

Now both at their feet, Greg reached up and grasped the back of Lampwick’s hair, pulling his head back a little and keeping the scissors pressed firmly to the side of his throat.

“You were the one that just tried to kill me,” August replied. 

He looked unstable. Tired and unsteady, as though he might fall over at any moment, listing slightly to his left side, like a broken bookshelf. Lampwick had never seen his friend look quite so much like a puppet since they were children.

But back then, that was how he was supposed to be. He had been carved by chisels and magic and love and that was all Lampwick had ever known of him. Of Pinocchio. And his existence as a marionette was never something that troubled Lampwick, because it was simply what he was.

Now, as an adult, as August Booth, there was something so wrong about the image. Something that made Lampwick’s stomach roll and his insides squirm with worry.

“And if you don’t let us go,” Tamara continued, now staring past August and directly at Greg and Lampwick, “then we’ll kill him.” 

An immense tidal wave of fear and fury poured through Lampwick, like a hot lava, in his chest and arms and cheeks and gut. August spared only a glance behind him.

“I’ll kill him if you shoot. I swear,” Greg added, readjusting his grip on Lampwick slightly as he did so.

“Drop the gun, August,” Tamara reiterated.

There was a pause where no one did anything. Lampwick wished August would just take the shot anyway. That it might shock Greg enough in order for Lampwick to wrestle from his grip and make an escape. Instead, August started to lower the gun and in a quiet voice said,

“Please, just don’t hurt him.

Just as the gun touched the stone floor, just as August stood back to full height with his hands up in surrender, Greg loosened his grip on Lampwick, relaxing a little. Lampwick didn’t miss his opportunity. Being nearly 5 inches shorter than him, Greg’s head was right at Lampwick’s shoulder height. Sharply, Lampwick threw his shoulder back as hard as he could manage, smacking the other man roughly in the face before he knew what was happening.

Ignoring the taser, Tamara made a beeline straight for the exit door behind her. August frantically tried to pick up the gun but, with his clunky wooden hands, it took him more than one go to do so. By the time he had taken it from the floor, Tamara was gone. Turning around, probably expecting Greg to have recovered from the attack, August went to point the gun at him instead. However, he was gone too. The second he had been able to, the man had also run straight to an exit door and left August and Lampwick alone. 

As soon as August realised this, he rushed over to where Lampwick was standing. He quickly latched onto him, holding the side of Lampwick’s arm.

“A-Are you okay?” he asked frantically before glancing around the room again, in case Greg or Tamara came back.

Lampwick only nodded. With the tape on his mouth still, there was little else he could do. After stuffing the gun into one of his coat pockets, August very carefully attempted to grab the end of the tape. With a fierce focus, he managed to pinch one of the ends and swiftly ripped the tape right off in one motion. 

Lampwick took only a moment to recover from the stinging and catch his breath before saying,

“I’ve been a lot worse to be honest. I’ll be fine.” He forced a tiny smile, before his frown soon returned as his concern for August grew. “Are…Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” August said, not looking or sounding it. Shuffling around to the other side of Lampwick, he started to pick at the tape on his wrists. “But the town...I don’t know what...what they…” 

Just as August had finished unpeeling the duct tape from him, he trailed off. 

It was only seconds later when Lampwick felt him collapse to the floor next to him. 

---

“August?” Lampwick said, the word spilling from his mouth as he spun around and rushed to the floor. For what felt like the hundredth time that day, a nauseous panic rolled through him. He placed a hand on August’s chest and shook him a little. “August? Shit, come on, you’ve gotta be okay.” 

Still semi-lucid, August looked at him with a troubled, glassy stare. 

“The magic, it’s fading, Lampwick. I can feel it draining from me.” 

“No, no, no…” Lampwick gripped his leather jacket with a tight fist. “Come on. I’ll get the fucking fairy. Rumplestilskin, whoever.” After a frenzied glance around the room, he stood up and scrambled over to the taser a few feet away before returning to his friend again, almost slipping on the floor as he made his way back. “Maybe,” he tried, “maybe we can reverse it? I mean, the magic is still in here, right? It’s gotta be.” He examined the taser with shaky hands. Looking for something -for anything- that might help them. “There’s gotta be something.” 

The look August gave him was so sad it almost shattered Lampwick completely.

“Lampwick,” he began, very slowly and deliberately, “thank you.” 

Lampwick scowled, placing the taser on the ground next to him.

“What the hell for?” Lampwick’s voice was nothing more than a whisper, despite the irritation in it. 

August stared intently at him and Lampwick refused to tear his gaze away.

“For…For being there for me. These past few weeks. I-”

August was cut off by a noise behind them. Hurriedly, Lampwick collected the gun from August’s coat pocket and pointed it behind him. 

“Hey!” Sheriff Emma said as she entered the room, her voice firm but not aggressive. “Hey, calm down, we’re here to help. You can put the gun down.” 

In what was a very rare act for him, Lampwick did as he was told. Mechanically, he placed the gun on the floor and Emma came rushing over to the pair of them. 

“Oh my god,” she said, lowering her weapon and crouching down on the other side of August. 

“Emma,” August croaked out, the barest hint of a smile crossing his wooden features. 

“Hey, you,” she said with her own sad smile. “It’s been a little while.” 

“I know.” 

There was another noise from behind them as Prince David and August’s father also rushed into the room. 

“Oh, no.” The words escaped Marco’s lips in a murmur. “Oh, my boy.” 

Marco found a place at August's side, right next to Lampwick. David had the good grace to stand back a little and keep an eye on the area.

“Papa,” August said with a pained frown on his face. 

“My boy,” Marco repeated as though he didn't know what else to say. “How can we help you?”

“I’m so sorry. For all of it.” 

Marco shook his head. 

“You don’t have anything to apologise for.” 

“I do,” August insisted. “I’ve done so many bad things that I wish I could have made up for. And I…” 

Suddenly he winced in pain. Lampwick felt him grip his hand very tightly.

“August,” Emma said with wide, worried eyes. “August, what’s wrong?” 

August said nothing. His shallow breathing only became more laboured and his grasp on Lampwick’s hand tightened to the point that Lampwick was almost concerned about him breaking it. 

Lampwick, Emma and Marco all shared fraught looks with one another. August’s grip on Lampwick’s hand relaxed and, with it, the rest of him seemed to relax a little too. And then, something strange happened.

August began turning back into a human again. 

The transformation crept up his features like the tide coming in from the ocean, washing away his former self and revealing flesh beneath it all. Soon, there was no trace of the puppet to be found. 

August lay there, breathless and in shock. Finally removing his hand from Lampwick’s own, it flew immediately to the bullet hole in his jacket. There was no blood, no wound at all from the looks of things, and Lampwick couldn’t help but sigh with relief.

August, with the help of both Emma and Lampwick, pushed himself into a seated position and Marco tenderly stretched out his arms to cup his son’s face. Lampwick noticed that the old man had been quietly crying and August looked on the verge of breaking down now as well.

“I should have been there for you,” Marco whispered. “Should never have burdened you with the weight I did.” His voice broke a little as he continued with, “I’m so sorry, my son. I’m so sorry.” 

August mumbled something back but it was incoherent as he leaned across to bury himself in his father’s embrace. Muffled sobs started to escape him and Marco silently fought back more tears of his own as he kept a firm arm around his son, and laid a gentle hand at the back of his head, cradling him like a child.

Lampwick awkwardly looked away. He had never seen August so vulnerable before and it felt invasive to just sit there and watch things unfold. Instead, he caught Emma’s eye, who seemed to be just as uncomfortable as he was. She motioned her head to the side, a signal that they should both leave father and son to themselves for a minute. 

Shakily, he pushed himself to his feet and followed the sheriff over to the stacks of chairs and boxes at the side of the room. David, who was also following with them, lifted one of the chairs from the pile. 

“Do you wanna sit down?” Emma asked quietly. 

Truthfully, Lampwick wasn’t sure what he wanted to do. A part of him felt too nervous to sit. It felt too much like the scenario he was in not ten minutes ago. But he was tired, mentally and physically drained after everything, and he accepted the seat without too much hassle. Emma pulled up a chair opposite him and David followed suit and he suddenly felt as though he was stuck at a job interview.

“So,” David began, “Greg and Tamara have both been incarcerated. 

“Oh,” said Lampwick, genuinely surprised by what he was hearing. “Right…” 

“Dad-” Emma started before smiling to herself a little and restarting with, “Sheriff Nolan and I caught them both as they were leaving the building. Thanks to August’s tip, we were already at the docks when we heard a gunshot. Right now, they’re both in handcuffs and locked in the back of the car.”

“Which,” David added, “is being guarded.” He grimaced. “Although, knowing Leroy and some of the others, Greg and Tamara are probably in more trouble right now than any of them.” He stood up from the chair. “I should probably go and check on things.” 

Lampwick resisted the urge to roll his eyes and make a snide comment about how he’d like to deliberately let Leroy loose on the pair. Instead, he said nothing as Emma replied with a quick, “good idea,” to her father and the man strode past August and Marco and out the room.

Lampwick folded his arms across his chest. 

“Okay,” Emma said, looking seriously at Lampwick. “I need to ask you a few questions, if you’re up for answering them right now?” 

“Sure.” Lampwick’s reply was half-hearted and casual at best.

“Great,” Emma said, her tone still flat and serious. Then, no less serious but with a certain softness in her eyes, she continued with, “okay, first question. Are you okay?” 

Lampwick shrugged. 

“I mean…” His focus drifted away from everything else and across to one of the battered crates in the corner of the room. “I’m not great, but nothing’s broken or anything if that’s what you mean?”

Emma didn’t say anything for a moment. Lampwick looked back at her and she slowly returned him with a nod and another, “okay.” 

“Is it time for the interrogation, now?”

Emma huffed through her nose in frustration. 

“It’s not an interrogation. I just need to know if Greg or Tamara told you anything about what they were doing in Storybrooke. We’ll save the real interrogation for the pair of them, don’t worry.” 

Lampwick unfolded his arms and allowed them to rest on his thighs as he deflated slightly. 

“Urm…” He thought to himself for a second. What had they mentioned? Everything was a big blur right now. A mess that he wasn’t sure he could filter through even if he did have the energy to do so. “I don’t know. They said...Said they were planning something for the whole town.” His frown deepened. “I think they were working with someone else. Talked about calling them so they could change plans. And there was...this...this trigger or something, but I don’t know what they meant by that . Sounded pretty bad, though.” 

Emma only nodded. 

“What’s gonna happen to them?” he asked.

“I’m not sure yet. We’ll have to lock them up and question them. See where things take us from there.” 

“They tried to kill him,” Lampwick said quietly, nodding his head in August’s direction, the latter of which was still sitting on the floor with his father, although both of them had stopped crying by now. “Tried to kill me too.” 

“They won’t leave that jail cell anytime soon. I promise you.” Emma stood up. “For now, we need to take them there. And we need to get you and August both checked out. Come on.” 

Wearily, Lampwick pulled himself off the chair.

August looked fit to faint as Lampwick, Emma and Marco all helped him to his feet and out the empty building.

---

Lampwick’s injuries weren’t as bad as they could have been, all things considered. Aside from a tiny cut on his neck and a couple of particularly nasty bruises on his left shoulder and cheek from when he fell, there was very little the paramedics had to deal with. 

August was lucky too, considering he had been shot in the stomach at point blank range. The bullet wound had healed completely with his transformation and the only thing he was dealing with currently was exhaustion. 

Of course, referring to it as ‘the only thing’ was an understatement at its finest. After a quick once over from the paramedic team, August had soon been taken to the convent and placed in a bed there. He had all but collapsed into it upon arrival and fallen asleep just as swiftly. 

Marco, as expected, had waited patiently by his bedside, Dr. Hopper rushing to join him as soon as he was given the news. Lampwick was far too awkward to sit and wait with them both. Couldn’t stomach the idea of having to muster up a conversation with either of them right now. So, he had left for a little while. Taken a much needed pack of cigarettes and walked around the town for a few hours, refusing to go back to his apartment just yet. Only once it was getting late, once he figured that the others might have left by now, did he sneak back there to go and see August himself.

Slipping through the heavy double doors and into the building, Lampwick was grateful to see only empty corridors ahead of him. He was also thankful that the room August was staying in was just a stone's throw away from the entrance. Silently, he hurried through the building and into his room. 

On the positive side of things, it seemed that Lampwick had killed more than enough time to allow everyone else to disappear. Marco and the doctor were nowhere to be seen, and none of the nuns were occupying the room either. 

On the negative side, August was fast asleep and Lampwick suddenly felt very guilty about the prospect of waking him just so he could check up on him. 

He muttered a very quiet, "dammit," under his breath before turning to go. 

He was stopped when he heard a voice behind him.

"Lampwick, wait." 

A quiet, “oh,” escaped him as he swivelled around to face August. The other man was already moving until he was sitting up in bed. Without hesitation, Lampwick flew over to his bedside, grabbing the little stool just across from the bed and scooting it a little closer before perching himself on top of it. “Sorry, I thought you were asleep.” 

“Why are you here so late? Are you okay?” 

“Oh yeah, I’m fine. I just...Your dad was here and I...I didn’t wanna intrude, you know?” 

August only smiled softly at him. 

“You wouldn’t have been.” He paused, and with a tilt of his head added, “but, you know, I’m glad you did wait. It’s kind of nice to talk, just the two of us.” 

“Yeah,” Lampwick agreed, a growing smile of his own forming at the corners of his mouth. “Anyway, you okay? How are you feeling?” 

“Exhausted but...I think I’m alright.”

The two sat staring quietly at each other for just a little too long and Lampwick deliberately broke the gaze. Bashful, he ducked his head towards the right slightly, casting his eyes down. This movement seemed to draw August's attention to something. 

Curious, he stretched out a hand towards Lampwick's left cheek. He didn't touch the red bruising that ran up the edge of his face, instead, only hovered it just above the skin. 

"Are you okay?" he asked. 

"Didn't you ask me that already?" Lampwick countered, reaching up to grab August's wrist and gently guide his arm away from his face.

August set his hand back down in his lap.

"That was before I saw the bruise on your face.”

“Eh, it’s not too bad." He brushed off the question with a casual shrug. “Been in worse fights.” 

August didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. The look he was giving Lampwick did more than enough to prompt him to add further reassurance.

“Seriously. I’m fine. I promise.” There was a pause. Lampwick leaned back a little on the stool as he stared at August, taking a moment to examine all the little ways in which the man had changed. His hair and skin and eyes, all so different to the wooden puppet he used to know, yet nothing felt wrong or out of place. “Funny. This is the first time I’ve ever seen you all human.” 

August cracked a smile. 

“You’re not disappointed, are you?

“No,” Lampwick said with a soft smile of his own. “It’s just...Just different, I guess.” He leaned over a little, smile waning slightly as he asked, more seriously, “do you know what happened? Why you’re human again? Was it the taser?” 

August frowned a little and shrugged.

“The Blue Fairy said that it was me. That in confronting Tamara I was able to prove myself as brave, selfless and truthful.”

“Easy as all that, huh?”

“Yeah,” August said dryly. “It only took me being shot.” 

“That was pretty badass to be fair,” Lampwick returned with a scoff. “It doesn’t hurt, does it? It looked like it healed up back there but…”

“It’s strange…” August’s reply was slow and considered. “It feels like it’s still there. Or, I guess, not there. Like there’s an empty space in the left side of my body. But it doesn’t hurt.”

“Well, that’s a relief at least.” 

“Yeah.” 

A quiet blanketed the room after that. The way that it hung between the pair of them, it felt almost physical. When Lampwick spoke again it was no more than a whisper.

“I thought you’d died for a while back there.”

“Well, so did I for a second or two.” 

“I…” He began to mindlessly fiddle with the edge of the bedsheets. “It really scared me. More than I’d been scared for...well, for a long time.” 

“It scared me too. Not the first time, though. Not right after I was tasered. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t exactly thrilled about that but I was too shocked, too full of adrenaline, to really be scared…” Lampwick could feel August looking directly at him. He only spared a quick glance before nervously focusing his attention back on the blanket. “I mean, after that. When the magic was really fading. And, you know, I had all these thoughts running through my head. Thoughts about the things I’d done wrong, thoughts about Emma and my father.” There was a short pause before he added, “and about you, too.” 

August sat up a little more. Lampwick finally forced himself to look back at the other man as he continued talking.

“I realised that you’d been looking out for me in so many more ways than I would ever be able to thank you for. And I also realised that, in spite of everything, the past couple of weeks have been some of the best weeks of my life.” 

Lampwick snorted.

“I really mean it, Lampwick," he persisted. "And I know how tragic it sounds, but it’s true. My life has been…” He looked away for a minute, searching for the right word. “...Unstable. For such a long time now. But being with you on that boat, being around you again, it was nice. Comfortable. And when I was laying there thinking that this was really it for me, between all those thoughts about my mistakes and regrets, I was thinking that I...that I wished I could have had a couple weeks more of that. Of being on that boat, with you.”

“Me too.” 

August tenderly placed his hand atop Lampwick’s own. The action caused a certain nervous feeling to shoot through Lampwick, right up from his gut to his cheeks. 

There was a very long pause that followed where Lampwick could feel nothing but the pulsing of his own heartbeat. Then, August reached out his other hand. Careful not to touch the bruise on Lampwick’s left cheek, he set it at the back of his head. Ever so gently, he guided Lampwick closer to him until their lips met.

It only lasted moments before Lampwick pulled away, letting go of August’s hand in the process. 

“ Fuck...” he murmured breathlessly, before moving his hand to back of August’s neck and pulling him in for a deeper kiss.

When they finally broke apart again they were both grinning like maniacs. However, just as Lampwick lowered his hand, there was a noise from behind them that disrupted them both. They each whipped their heads around to watch as one of the nuns entered the room, a tray holding a plastic jug of water, in her hands. Clearly taken aback by Lampwick’s presence, the fairy looked at him with a particularly disapproving frown. 

“Excuse me, but visiting hours were over long ago. I’m sorry, but you need to leave.” 

Lampwick rolled his eyes and could practically feel the nun tense up at that reaction. 

“‘Kay, fine,” he said, standing from the stool and picking it up to move back. “Whatever.” 

After carefully putting the seat away, Lampwick said a, “goodnight,” to August, before stalking past the nun as she approached the bedside table to set the water down. 

With the fairy’s back turned, Lampwick grinned at August, mimicking a phone with his hand and mouthing the words, “call me.”

August grinned back, shaking his head. 

“Tamara took my phone.” 

“Yeah, she took mine too,” Lampwick replied with a laugh in his voice. “Think it’s in evidence at the moment.” He walked closer to the door. “You’d better not be asleep when I come by unannounced tomorrow.”

The fairy turned around. 

“Yes,” she all but snapped, “you can come back tomorrow. You’re more than welcome to. Just as long as it’s after ten and before seven.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“And you,” she continued, looking to August, “need as much rest as you can get. Am I understood?” 

August glanced past her and at Lampwick, a lopsided smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

“Of course.”

Feeling giddy and a little bit ridiculous about that giddy feeling, Lampwick headed out the door with one final farewell and back to his apartment. 

---

Several days later and August had almost made a full recovery. Physically, at the very least. He knew he still had a lot to work through in other areas but he was coping well enough for the time being.

His relationship with his father right now was a rocky one. Both of them were desperate to make amends but neither quite knew how to approach the situation. How to handle all that guilt and frustration and heaviness that entered the room each time they sat to talk with one another. But August always knew in his heart that it would take time, and he could hardly expect to fix such a distance in the space of less than five days. The long, uncomfortable silences and the overly-polite courteousness they showed one another would have to make do for the time being. It wasn't perfect, but it was better than he had feared. It was something. 

His relationship with Lampwick was far less troublesome. There wasn’t the same invisible barrier between them like there was with him and his father, although he still wasn't sure exactly where they both stood right now. They were supposed to be meeting later to talk about things but Emma had asked him yesterday if they could meet first. At least, she had asked his father. Still exhausted, still dealing with the toll that both the taser and the transformation had left on him, August had been asleep when Emma had rang the house and his father had taken the call instead.

His dad had later apologised for agreeing to the meeting on August’s behalf but August didn’t mind. He had some things he needed to talk to Emma about anyway.

She was already at Granny's by the time he arrived. As the door opened and its little bell rang out, she looked up from her phone and smiled at him, before waving a hand and ushering him towards the booth she was sitting in. Naturally, he came to sit down across from her, feeling his nerves pick up as he did so. 

He made note of the half drank hot chocolate on the table as he sat. It was only five minutes or so past their agreed meeting time. Either Emma had arrived much earlier than expected or she was particularly tolerant when it came to drinking boiling hot liquids. The sensible answer was of course the first one, but he wouldn't put the second option past her either.

That or his father had given him the wrong time by accident, an option August also wouldn’t readily discount.

"I suppose it's too late for me to offer to buy you a drink?" he said, gesturing at the mug on the table. 

"Yeah, sorry, I got here early." She let out an audible sigh. "Things have been pretty hectic lately and I sort of forgot what time we were meeting. I couldn't remember if it was half past or the o'clock, so I've been waiting for about half an hour now." 

"Sorry." 

"Why are you sorry, it's not your fault?" She smiled softly as she looked straight at him. "Anyway, how are you?" 

"Since you saw me the day before yesterday?" he joked. 

"What?" she hit back, "would you like me to not check up on you and ask about your wellbeing? Seriously, how are you feeling?" 

"Better," he said, all playfulness gone. "I'm good, I promise."

"Good," Emma said before taking a sip of cocoa. "Did you want a coffee or something? Before we get into things?" 

"No. Thank you. I'll grab something in a bit. I'm actually meeting with someone else after this." 

A teasing grin crept onto Emma’s face.

"Oh? Who?" 

"It doesn't matter." 

"Is it Lampwick? He's been keen to meet up with you, at least." 

"What…How...He told you that?" 

“Not exactly,” Emma said as she rummaged through the jacket she had laid on the seat beside her. Pulling out a phone, she presented it to August from across the table. “Look, I don’t snoop unless I really need to. Which,” she slowed a little as she thought about what she was saying before admitting, “is probably a lot, actually, between some of my bail bonds stuff and a whole bunch of things I’ve done in Storybrooke. Some of which was with you. Anyway,” she continued as she passed the phone over to him, “I promise I wasn’t being nosy on purpose, and I didn’t read any of them, but I noticed that he started messaging you barely an hour after I gave him his phone back.” 

August only took a brief look at his phone screen, noting that there were several new messages from Lampwick. He quickly tucked the phone away into his own pocket, unable to hide the tiny smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. He would read them later. For now, he had a much more pressing matter to deal with. 

“Well, thank you,” he said as the conversation came to a still and the sound of gentle chatter and clanking kitchen plates picked up in its stead.

“So,” Emma started after a moment. “Greg and Tamara.”

Even just the mention of their names unsettled August a little. His chest felt a little tighter and his shoulders a little tenser, but he nodded along all the same.

“They’re both still at the Sheriff's Station for now,” Emma continued. “To be honest, we haven’t gotten a whole lot of new information out of either of them, but we’re working on it. So far, most of what we know are just the pieces you and Lampwick overheard at the Cannery. Either way, they’re not going anywhere soon and no one else is coming here anytime soon either.”

“What?” 

“Gold’s agreed to help set up a protection spell around the town line until we can sort things out. Lampwick told me they’d talked about calling for some kind of backup. Hopefully, the spell should be enough to keep anyone else out. Whatever it was they were planning, I swear, we won’t let it happen.” 

August simply nodded again. Emma took another sip of her drink before asking, “did you have any questions? I can’t promise I can answer all of them. I can’t really promise I can answer any of them, but I’ll try.” 

“No,” August said quickly, desperate to move on from Greg and Tamara as soon as he could. “No, I’m fine but…” He found himself unable to look Emma in the eye, swiftly drawing his attention to the plastic covered countertop. "There was something else I wanted to talk with you about."

Finally he tore his gaze upwards to look at Emma again. Her face was nothing but concerned, evidently worried about him, and that was already making things more difficult. Only adding to the layers of heavy guilt that were building inside him. 

"What's wrong?" she asked, instantly eliciting another pang of guilt.

He took in a deep inhale, readying himself, before he finally let out the truth. 

"Emma, I was...I was the one that sent you to jail. Back when you and Neal were together in Portland, when you stole those watches, I blew the whistle on you. On purpose. I thought that...That it would keep you on track. That, if you started a new life with Neal, you wouldn't want to come back to Storybrooke. That you wouldn't break the curse." Emma said nothing as he continued, her expression stony and completely unreadable. He barely even had to force himself to go on, the words tumbling out of his mouth like a rushing waterfall. "I think that deep down, I knew there were other options. Better options. But I took the route that was easiest for me and Emma, I am so sorry. Truly. 

“And I swear I had no idea you were pregnant. I only put the pieces together after I arrived in Storybrooke and I promise that I would never have done what I did if I'd known about Henry. And you don't have to forgive me for it. Not now, not ever. But I needed you to know the truth and I needed you to know how sorry I am. For all of it, Emma, I am so sorry."

Emma tilted her head to the side, just a little, as though it was helping her take in everything she had just heard. The background noise at Granny’s came to August’s attention once more as the conversation came to a momentary standstill.

"I already knew that you and Neal got me arrested."

Of all the responses he had expected Emma to give, that hadn’t been one of them. He looked at her in shock. 

"You did?" 

"Neal told me, back in New York. And I'm not saying that I'm not still mad about it. Don't get me wrong, I'm still really pissed off with you for what you did, but… most of that anger was directed at Neal, not you." 

"Neal didn't-" 

"August," Emma quickly cut him off, "I know you're only trying to help, but please. Neal was…We had each other and only each other. There is nothing you can say that will make me less angry at him for what he did. Let me have that anger."

"Of course.” August picked at the edge of the table. “I really am sorry," he practically whispered. 

"I know," replied Emma, her voice still tense. “But that was then and this is now. And I can see that you’re trying to make up for things.”

“Well, urm, about that…” August cleared his throat. “There’s something else I need to tell you.” 

“Okay,” Emma said seriously, her voice very level. 

“I...Neal gave me some money. The money from the watches, actually. To give to you, when you were in jail.” 

“Okay,” Emma said again, her voice tinged with a little more irritation.

“And I kept it for myself. I used it to start a new life in Thailand.” 

Emma’s frown deepened. She looked at the remaining dregs of her cocoa, her thoughts and focus somewhere else entirely. Tapping a finger on the table, she continued to stay like that for an uncomfortably long period of time. Finally, she stopped tapping, closed her eyes and sighed.

“August, I don’t want to fight about this. Any of this.” She looked up at him with worried eyes and a ghost of a smile. “I missed you, you know? After you…” She frowned. “After you changed...And then disappeared. There were a couple of times when I could have really used a friend and I don’t want any of this to ruin that friendship now that you’re back.” 

The guilt in August’s stomach didn’t subside, but he did at least feel less terrified than he did a few moments ago. Felt a fraction lighter, knowing that he hadn’t completely destroyed his friendship with Emma. 

“I don’t want to lose our friendship either,” he confessed. 

“Good. Then let’s consider this water under the bridge.” Emma finished the end of her drink before setting it back on the table. “So, is that everything? No more secrets you need to tell me?” 

“Yes. I promise.” 

A breathy laugh escaped Emma. 

“Thank god for that. Anyway,” she said, standing up. “I should probably head back to the station.” That teasing smile from earlier was back. “And you have a date, don’t you?” 

August very nearly rolled his eyes at that.

“It’s just...Just coffee.”

Shrugging on her red leather coat, Emma replied with a sarcastic, “I’m surprised you’re not taking him to a well.” 

Still not quite ready to let go of their earlier conversation, August bit back any snarky responses he could give to that comment. Instead, he stood up and stared seriously at Emma.

“I don’t really have...Well...any money right now. Not really. And I couldn’t ask it of my father. But I-”

“You don’t need to pay me back. It was stolen money in the first place. It never really belonged to me.” 

“Still...Maybe if you or your family needs a repair done, if you need another lock for your door…”

“It won’t be any more of your medieval chic, will it?”

“Only if that’s what you want. Either way, if you do need anything, maybe I could do it for free?” 

“Throw in a free bag of doughnuts when you next come and visit me and you’ve got a deal.” 

“Thank you,” he said, meaning it more than he could ever say.

Moving past him, Emma headed for the door. 

“Enjoy your date,” she said before exiting the diner and leaving August standing alone. Feeling his phone buzz in his pocket, he quickly dug his hand and looked at the latest message. 

‘Did the sheriff give you ur phone back yet or what?’

August smiled to himself as he walked over to the counter. 

‘On my way’, he replied before tucking his back into his pocket and ordering two coffees to go.

---

The ocean was quiet that morning and usually Lampwick would have found a solace in it, but there was something pinching at him, just beneath the surface. 

It wasn’t a bad feeling, however. More like a restless, nervous kind of excitement, fluttering in his gut and chest and heart, as he stood waiting on his boat. After meeting with the sheriff, August was supposed to meet him at the docks with an offering of coffee. Both still shaken up by the events at the cannery, not to mention, both still uncertain about what this relationship was supposed to be, they had agreed to simply meet up and talk, without any of the formalities or pretences a typical date would usually require.

“Hey,” came a gruff voice from his left side, “Romeo. Are you gonna give me a hand with this or did you just wanna keep staring out into the ocean while I do all the hard work?” 

Having fixed up his own boat not long after the curse broke, Leroy had insisted on helping Lampwick with his. With Lampwick currently out of a job (although Leroy had already kindly recommended him to one of the fishermen, Eric, and things were already looking promising in that area), he had plenty of free time to work on the boat, something that Leroy was already taking full advantage of. He had practically barged onto the ship that morning and started taking down the sail himself, in order that the pair of them could repair and replace it together. Lampwick had tried to tell him that today was a bad day to start this. That he was meeting someone in a couple of hours and they wouldn’t have time to work on it for very long. But Leroy was as stubborn as they come and it hadn’t taken long for Lampwick to concede defeat. 

Although, really, deep down, Lampwick was happy to let Leroy help out anyway. Leroy’s true motivations were far more transparent than he probably realised they were. Lampwick could see through the dwarf like a pane of glass, and he knew that this was just his way of checking up on him. Not one for words, he was letting his actions do all the talking -although he had twice already made a dark joke about breaking into the jail and teaching Greg and Tamara a lesson with his fists- and it was nice. As much as Lampwick would never admit it outloud, it was nice having someone feel the need to check up on him. 

Lampwick tore his eyes from the sea but didn’t get the chance to actually respond to Leroy, the latter of which was crouched on the floor and fiddling with a section of the new sail, as another voice floated in from behind them both.

“I’m not interrupting, am I?” August asked, opting not to step onto the boat as he approached, clutching a disposable coffee tray with two coffees in one hand, and a brown paper bag in his other. 

An involuntary smile stretched across Lampwick’s face. 

“Hey,” he said as he tiptoed over the sail parts on the deck and across to meet August, still unable to suppress his grin, even if he had wanted to. Tucking his hands into his jacket pockets, he tilted his head to the side a little and continued with, “wondered when you’d finally show up.” 

August smiled back, a little quieter and more subdued, but no less genuine than Lampwick’s own. Then, examining the mess of the boat before him, he commented, “I see that you two have been busy this morning. Hi, Leroy,” he added, as though the other man was an afterthought.

Leroy made a small grunting sound as he finally pulled himself up off the floor.

“Yeah, well, we would have been a lot busier if this jackass hadn’t been on his phone every five minutes. I swear, Sheriff Swan should have never given that thing back to him.” 

Lampwick flushed a little at the accusation.

“Like hell it was every five minutes…” he grumbled.

“You two are fixing the boat then?” August asked.

“Yeah,” Lampwick replied, “but we should call it a day for now, right Leroy?” 

“We’ve barely started with it!” Leroy protested. 

“ Leroy, ” Lampwick hissed, urging the other man to take the not-so-subtle hint to leave.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going,” the dwarf said with a flippant wave to his hand before he began to shuffle past him and over to the docks. "Good to see you, August," he added politely as August moved out to the side in order to let him off the boat. 

August watched Leroy as he walked down the dock towards his own boat. Only once Leroy was out of earshot did he turn back to Lampwick to say, "he seems in a good mood. Less grouchy than his fairytale namesake might suggest, at least. Every time I'd run into him before the curse broke he was either yelling or muttering obscenities under his breath." 

Apparently August had missed the beginning of his and Leroy's conversation the other morning. Lampwick leaned in a little closer to August, lowering his voice, just in case Leroy overheard them talking about him. 

"He's dating someone," he said with a grin, as though they were back in class, passing notes to one another underneath the tables. 

"Well, good for him," August replied with far less amusement. 

"She's one of the nuns," Lampwick continued, the smile refusing to drop from his lips. 

An odd look of panic flashed across August's face. He blinked a few times in confusion as a frown began to form. 

"What… Who?" 

"Nova." 

August appeared to visibly relax. 

"Oh," he said, "okay."

Lampwick’s mischievous grin only grew wider as he raised his eyebrows. 

"Wait… You didn't… You weren't worried I was talking about the Blue Fairy, were you?" 

August seemed particularly flustered by this accusation. Lampwick might have described it as cute if he didn't find the whole situation as funny as he did. 

"I didn't… I mean, I wasn't…" He let out a sharp huff. "Seeing that smile on your face, I wasn't sure what to think, alright?" 

That was fair enough. Although the image of Mother Superior dating anyone -particularly someone like Leroy- was almost too ridiculous to even consider, and it was hilarious to Lampwick that August had been even remotely concerned about the possibility. 

"Anyway," August continued, "is that even allowed?" 

Lampwick shrugged. 

"Apparently she's not a nun anymore or something, so yeah." Then, more seriously he added, "anyway, I know I’m taking the piss but I'm genuinely happy for them both, I swear." 

"Me too," August said before raising his hand slightly, drawing attention to the two coffees. "So, did you want to sit? These will go cold soon if we don't." 

Lampwick scoffed. 

"Trust me, Granny makes that coffee like molten lava. It won't go cold for a while yet." He took his hands out of his pockets, folding his arms over one another. "But you're right, we should sit." He turned around, staring at the mess laid out on the deck. "We can go inside, if you like? Shouldn't be too much of a mess in there."

"I was actually thinking we could sit out on the docks. If that's okay?" 

"Of course," Lampwick said, turning back to August. "Course it is." 

---

As the pair sat down one of the nearby benches, their backs to the water, August finally handed Lampwick his coffee. 

“By the way, three sugars?" he commented as Lampwick took the cup from him. 

"What? It's too bitter otherwise. Sorry that I actually like to enjoy myself." 

August smirked, placing down the paper bag of pastries and empty coffee tray in between them. 

“You and Emma both, apparently. I’ve only ever seen her order coffee once but she must have put at least two packets in when she did.” His smile faded a little. “I talked to her, you know. About...Well, about some things that I did in the past. Apologised to her, finally, for some things I needed to apologise for.”

Lampwick didn’t really have the context for any of this. Didn’t know what August had been apologising for but he supposed he didn't need to, not until August wanted to tell him. Either way, it was nice to see August pushing himself. Taking control of his own actions. His own destiny.

“Well, I’m proud of you,” he admitted, trying his best not to sound too patronising. 

“I’m not looking for a pat on the back. I guess this is just me trying to be more honest about things. More open.” He stared at the coffee cup he had grasped in both hands, resting lazily on his lap. “And I don’t want that to stop with Emma, either.” 

Lampwick felt his heart sink. He didn’t like where this conversation was headed. 

“And...So, what else do you need to be more honest about?” he asked tentatively. 

“Lampwick, I’ve…” August seemed very tense all of a sudden. He didn’t look away from his coffee. “I know that whatever. ..this ...is between us, it’s still in its early stages, but I want to make sure we’re both on the same page with this.”

“And what page would that be?” 

“The page that says I’m serious about this. That I’m here to stay, in Storybrooke, and I’d really like to stick around and see if this turns into anything long term.” 

Lampwick felt relief wash through him. His shoulders slumped a little as the tension flooded out and he let go of a long exhale.

“Yeah, well, I already gathered that much from the way you talked about stuff in the convent the other day.” He took a sip of his coffee before continuing with, “got me worried for a minute there that you were gonna call things off.” 

“Oh,” August said, flicking his head up to look at Lampwick. “No, I’m sorry. I...I’m assuming that means we are on the same page, then?” 

“Yeah, duh. I mean, look, I don’t know how things are gonna be in two months' time. Hell, I don’t know how things are gonna be in two weeks’ time. But, yeah, I’d really like to find out. Course I would.”

August smiled, but there was something melancholy in his eyes still. Before Lampwick could ask him about it, August himself explained, “I haven’t...Before Storybrooke, I found it pretty hard to form proper relationships with people. Not just romantically, either. Really just with anyone at all. No one could know about the Enchanted Forest and my life there. That would be way too dangerous for me and them. My past was a locked door. A place I could never return to -not for another twenty-eight years, at least- and I had to rebuild a new identity from scratch. And...And without that past.” He frowned and looked straight ahead as he searched for the right words. “It was like living in a house without foundations. And I was scared that if I let someone inside that house then the whole thing would collapse. 

“I guess what I’m saying is that I’ve never been in anything very long term before. That, the few times I finally felt like I could start opening up to someone, my past would nag at the back of my mind. I mean, there were only so many times I could lie and tell someone that I didn’t remember any of my childhood before foster care. 

“And then there were the other times. A couple of people I felt like I didn’t need to lie to...But I always chickened out at the last second. I would get scared that they wouldn't believe me if I tried to tell them about who I really was, and I would deliberately ruin things between us. 

"But it's different with you, Lampwick, because you already know about who I used to be. 'Pinocchio' isn't just a fairytale or a…" He grimaced. "Or a euphemism to use when someone is lying. It's just me. I don’t have to hide that part of me.” He raised his eyebrows and shrugged casually. “I don’t think I have to hide any part of me, given what you’ve already seen these past few weeks but…” He bit his lip before a sheepish smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Well, you get what I’m saying, don’t you?”

Lampwick stared thoughtfully at him for a moment. Then, he broke it with a smile. “Yeah, I get you.” He shuffled on the seat a little. “Either way, whatever happens, I’m here to find out, so long as you are too.” 

Twisting his body around ever so slightly, Lampwick leaned over and gave August a gentle kiss.

"You urr… You reckon we're on the same page now?" he asked with a lopsided grin. 

“I don’t know,” August said with a mock frown, “I think maybe we should check again, just to make sure.” 

Leaning in again, Lampwick happily planted another, longer kiss on his lips.

“By the way,” August said as they broke away. “I meant to say thank you.”

“For what? Haven’t you already said thank you like six damn times already? Whatever it is, you’re welcome and you can stop now. I know I’m great and all but...”

“Just once more. You see, I spoke to Jiminy...Urm,” he chucked. “To Dr. Hopper. To Archie.”

Lampwick tensed a little. 

“You did?” he winced. 

“He told me that you went to talk to him. That you told him about me.” 

Lampwick nervously rubbed the back of his neck.

“Aww, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snitch or anything I just-”

“Lampwick, did you miss the part of this conversation where I said that I’m thanking you?” 

“Yeah but…” he stared down at his lap. “I dunno, I just felt bad about it. I was worried you’d hate me for it.” 

“I was still stuck in my own head. How could I ever hate you for trying to pull me out of it?” He looked at him with a hard stare as Lampwick looked back up at him. “Seriously, thank you.” 

They both sat quietly for a moment, the silence that followed neither uncomfortable or awkward. Only the gentle crashing of the ocean interrupting either of their thoughts. 

"So," Lampwick began, "you wanna guess who I ran into yesterday?" 

That question elicited a puzzled response from the other man. 

"Who?"

"Eugene. You remember Eugene right, from school?" 

"Unfortunately," August said dryly. 

"Seems like less of a little twerp these days."

"He threw a book at me, you know? Before someone else threw one at him."

"Seriously?" A laugh erupted from Lampwick. "You know he's just got a job at the Library?" 

“You’re joking?” 

“No, no, I swear. It sounds too funny but it’s true.” He placed his half drank coffee in the tray and started to rummage in the paper bag. “You should come see him sometime. Say ‘hi’.” Picking out a glazed doughnut he finished with, “maybe don’t meet him at the Library, though. Could be dangerous with all those books around. Wouldn’t want you to get hurt. I mean, if you got a concussion they might send you back to the convent again for a while. Hell knows I don’t wanna have to visit you there again.”

“We’ll steer clear of the Library,” he said as Lampwick bit into the doughnut, “but I’d be happy to meet him elsewhere. Maybe you can come and say ‘hi’ to Emma as well? I know the two of you have already met but it’d be nice to just hang out and talk.” 

Lampwick nodded as he chewed on the piece of doughnut.

“Yeah,” he said as he swallowed the bite, suddenly feeling more welcome in the town than he had done since the start of the curse. “I’d like that a lot.”

Things were changing in Storybrooke.

---