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His name had escaped her lips without even a second thought to it, echoing back to her as if the shadows casted were mocking her child-like whimper. Even those shadows were encased head to toe in his blood.
His never-ending cascade of blood.
Snow could count - too many times for her liking - just how often she would find a sulking Bigby leaning against the wall of the elevator on her travels home, always with a new sickeningly gash on his arm and a very quick "I'm fine" following; hushed within the confined space they so often shared.
A dog with his tail between his legs.
Every time she had seen him in that state a desire she often buried deep within her gut would rear its terribly loud head; a desire to care for him, make sure he was properly looked after, to show him even just a sliver of the kindness he has shown her over the centuries.
And yet, every time, she would watch him walk out onto his floor, leaving him with nothing but a half-assed wave as he left her with a quickly drying puddle of blood on the floor.
"Wait! Stop!"
No, not this time.
It was enough to halt Bloody Mary, the axe in her bony fingers glittering in the rain. Her eyes snaked up Snow's figure, making the latter nearly forget her next words.
"Just...take him, okay? Take Crane."
Bigby's chest was just barely rising and falling, whimpering and choking on every exhale. Snow kept her eyes locked on Mary, knowing if she even glanced at his decaying body, she would unravel. Even when he called out to her, begging her to just leave with the little strength he had left, Snow kept her sights on Mary.
Whatever God watching over this ordeal granted Snow her wish, as the Crooked Man waved his hand in a casual stance. The invisible force keeping Snow stuck to the dark recesses of the alley set her free as she found herself quickly laying beside her friend, her only friend, taking his head onto her thigh.
"Kinda like your boyfriend here, too pussy to ruin a Tweedles' day-" In an instant the heel of Mary's boot collided with the wolf's arm, snapping the bone like it was nothing more than a twig beneath her. "This is going to be a beautiful relationship we have with you guys, I mean it! I'm jazzed about it."
With a sing-song tone and a quick click of her heels, Mary was turning away victorious, ruling over them and everything they had done to get here. "Out with the old, in with the new. Long live the queen."
Snow wasn't sure at what point she had started to cry uncontrollably, her now ruined mascara burning her eyes, or when Nerissa appeared beside her and screamed her name, digging her out of her dissociative state.
"Snow!"
Fuck Crane. Fuck whatever deal he had with the Crooked Man, none of their work over the past few days mattered within this moment.
Was he going to survive?
"Snow, are you listening-"
Is this how he felt? Seeing her head at their doorstep? He was briefly living in a world without her, and that was enough to get him slipping into violent habits. Could she imagine a Fabletown without him?
Could she imagine her life without him?
"Miss White!"
The memory of a damp, littered alley fluttered away from her mind quicker than it had appeared initially, being replaced by her eerily tidied desk and a rather impatient Bluebeard, who was now leaning over her desk with the ugliest of scowls.
"Yes?" Even Snow couldn't ignore the way her voice shook under the weight of his gaze.
His folded arms clenched ever so slightly as his tongue kissed his teeth. "How can I expect you to listen to the people if you won't even listen to me regarding my donations?"
Part of her mind wanted to throw a harsh quip and a string of swears back to him, maybe a heavy book or two for good measure also, but all she could think of were soft words spoken under neon lighting in a too small kitchen.
"Snow, I'd never leave you."
Almost three months since that night, and he had kept that promise. Hell, he had been keeping it for centuries now if she was being really honest with herself.
But that's a train of thought she seldom let's herself wander down.
Snow had vaguely noticed Bluebeard rambling again, but her eyes wandered to the closed door of the Business Office as her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her skirt. He would likely be in his little office now, just one room over, bunkered down over a silly file on whatever silly crime he had cleared up today.
"Maybe he'd have a cigarette - no, he would definitely have a cigarette between his lips, brows furrowed in that specific way whenever he was recalling something. I wonder if he finally quit chewing the ends of his pens, I don't want to have to send him home to get the ink out of his mouth again-"
Only a small part of Snow felt guilty when Bluebeard announced his sudden departure by slamming the door, his shouting growing quieter as he wandered back down the hall. Looking up to the dark crevices in the ceiling, Snow admitted a small defeat. "Get a goddamn grip."
Exhaustion, that's all it was. An uninterrupted nights sleep was rare for her lately and now it was affecting her work.
Yup, that's all it was.
Not because she often lay awake at night mulling over what could have - or would have if she was being totally honest- happened if a certain stupid fucking pig hadn't opened his big stupid fucking mouth, he shouldn't have even been there-
Snow shook her head. That was a night-time thought, where only the moon could judge the way her desires and self-hatred danced alongside each other in one terribly sad dance.
-♡-
Bluebeard's bastard silhouette was a welcome sight through the fogged glass of Bigbys office door. Even though he didn't attend the finance meetings often anymore, the yelling that always arose from them still crept into his space through the wall, separating himself and his superiors.
A small part of him had gotten used to it in an odd way; Bluebeards jabs at her competence, her quick and sharp words about his arrogance...Bigby had bitten his way through a few pens in an effort to keep his ass sat on his seat and not go running to her defence.
But this time, he indeed heard Bluebeard's insane demands and subpar financial offerings, Bigby would recognise his shrill voice anywhere.
It was her silence that initially got his ears to perk up.
His mouth found the tip of a cigarette instead of his new pen, wondering if now would be a somewhat acceptable time to talk to her.
"I don't really need an excuse, do I? She's my boss, that's excuse enough. Her silence during the argument was concerning, would I get the same? I'd prefer her screaming at me than the silent treatment any day-"
A cloud of smoke exited from his lips, glowing against the dying bulb in his lamp.
"I could see if she wants a coffee? Bit late though...a drink? Nope, it could be taken the wrong way. You're not that socially dense, Wolf."
The haunting twirl of the tobacco smoke hung low in his small space, taking him back to a night he often finds himself replaying again and again like a broken record stuck on repeat, except its actually been playing the same pathetic song for the past however many centuries and one would think to just pick a new song except the player is fucking pathetic and doesn't want a new record-
"Fuck!"
The tingling burn on his fingertips from a now depleted cigarette was actually welcoming. Bigby's eyes focused on the light tobacco stains on his fingers before moving to the sight where his bone had once protruded from the skin. There was no longer any visible scar, yet the image of his own viscera still plagued him.
"I'm glad you're not dead."
God fucking dammit. He nearly had Colin's head for that one the next time the pig sought refuge in his own apartment. His brain couldn't shake the gnawing feeling that something slipped through his hands in that moment, plaguing him every night. It echoed in his dreams, every haunting detail, every feeling etched forever on his heart. And it's always the same image; her pale face illuminated pink by the parlour sign outside his window, concern hanging off her like a winter coat, her cold fingers clasped around his arm burning an imprint that still hasn't left him.
He swears he can still feel the ghost of her within his kitchen.
The ringing of his telephone nearly jolted the cigarette from his lips, his eyes blinking away the image of her faster than it was conjured. A call at this time of the evening...maybe it's too much to ask for, one fuckin night off. Bigby couldn't help the eye roll as he brought the receiver to his ear.
"What?" Even he could hear the agitation, yeesh.
"Bigby?"
"...Snow?"
Oops.
On instinct, he sat up straighter, as if she had physically walked into his office. "What..uh, how's it going?" Fucking smooth dickhead. It was almost comical how lighter his tone became.
Over on the other line, Snow was twirling the phone cord around her finger, hoping the monotone dial would have awarded her enough time to collect the right words. Business or...
She cleared her throat. "I just finished this quarters budget meeting with Bluebeard. Well, to be honest I wasn't entirely paying attention. My mind was...elsewhere, but I think he'll come around." Business as always, nothing more and nothing less.
That earned her a hearty laugh on the other end. Another thing to bury, the way his purest laughter creates a rare genuine smile from her.
"Don't blame you, I hate sitting in on those meetings."
"I could tell, why do you think I stopped asking you to attend?"
"Hey, I'm offended now. I can pay attention."
She scoffed at that. "I see the way your eyes glaze over."
"In my defence, so do yours."
He wasn't wrong. He's never wrong about her small intricacies and it made her squirm in her seat.
"So...what were you thinking about?"
"Hm?"
The faint sound of an exhale could be heard through the phone, does he ever run out of cigarettes?? "You said you were thinking of something else, not payin' attention to Bluebeard. Can't say I blame you, I'd rather take a fork to my ear than hear his shit."
Half of a laugh escaped Snow's mouth and she quickly forced herself to swallow down the rest, buried down in her chest. "Uhm, just some stuff about the Crooked Man-"
"Oh?"
"It's nothing, just things lingering in my mind." Bury her smile, bury her laughter, bury the truth. A tomb lay within her in place of a heart, filled with all things left unsaid; an apology, a question of 'what if?', 'what do you want?', 'can things go back to the way they used to be?'.
All the actions left undone also; a hand on a bandaged wrist that wanted to hover closer, a body covered in scars she wanted to explore, warm breath smelling of cigarettes that she oh so craved to taste-
"Snow are you still there?"
Business and pleasure on the coin always spinning between them.
Maybe if she was someone else; someone braver, more open and daring to jump out of this cavern she had carved out for herself long ago. Someone who didn't live ferociously in the past, who didn't see ghosts in every shadow on the street.
Someone who wasn't Snow White.
"Yeah, sorry I think I dozed off for a moment there," The clock on her desk taunted her with the time. Ten-thirty wasn't unusually late for her to be working, but a small part of her had checked out mentally by nine. "Do you always work alone so late?"
Bigby himself hadn't taken much care to look at his clock prior to her call, hell he was surprised it was still working. "I could ask you the same thing," Another quick inhale, at this point it was a buffer between him and saying something stupid. "I can't remember the last time I got home before one a.m. It's around this time I get calls from Holly about some drunk asshole she needs kicked out."
"No more heads on doorsteps?" It was meant to be a quip but Snow cringed in her seat as she said it.
It didn't pay him no mind, all he could focus on was how her voice was warm velvet through his telephone. "Weren't you the one who woke me up that night?"
It was rare for him to be so playful, so easy-going. God, Snow could picture his grin; the way it makes his eyes slightly squint, how his sharper than average canines would peak out from his encompassing mouth.
And the way it makes the hair on the back of her neck stand to attention, saluting him. She blinked rapidly, pushing away her growingly salacious thoughts. "Yeah...sorry for making you do unpaid overtime."
"You know I don't give a shit about the pay, or money in general."
"Then why work? I mean, why work here of all places. The community isn't always...fair with you." Understatement of the century there.
His hesitation didn't go unnoticed by her. "Where else would I go? Someone's got to keep you on your toes-" I'd never leave you. "-And besides, the world ain't fit for a man like me."
'Man' was putting it generously. He had far surpassed the average life span of a healthy mundy male and yet still found himself struggling in the act of human intricacies; sure he knew not to make too much eye contact during conversation or people get unnerved, hold the door open for the person walking in behind you, know what you want to order by the time you get to the front counter.
But friendship? Courtship? Expressing emotion through sincere words rather than an already bruised and bloody fist? Gaffer Wolf snarled in the face of all that, brandishing blood-stained teeth at anything that dared to even exist in his presence.
And yet, the painfully human part of him who visits the same bodega every day because the worker there likes him enough to give him a discount on his smokes and the quietly sincere part of him who smiles at the plucky teen girl who takes his coffee order cause she makes good puns...Bigby Wolf turns to face the uncertainty head on with a hopeful heart.
And the one who kept that hope beating brought him back down to reality, as she always had.
"I don't think this world was made for any of us, or maybe we're not made for it...I don't know anymore, might be a bit of both-" a yawn dripped from Snows tongue, though she did her best to conceal it. "I hope I'm not keeping you from anything. It would not reflect well on me to distract the staff."
He eyed down the case file that lay smack-dab in the middle of his desk, now long forgotten, listing details of a minor burglary where the Three Blind Mice live (of course, in glamour.) Odd fellows, but decent enough in the art of conversation. Unfortunately for them, easy targets. Bigby truly intended to tell her first thing in the morning...."Nope, just catching up on some profiling." He pushed the file out of his line of sight, nearly letting it fall onto the floor. Future him thing to deal with, he didn't dare burst the bubble they had found themselves inside.
Snow fiddled with the collar of her tan coat, finding the damn thing to be suddenly quite stifling. "You want to swap jobs? I'll have you talk to Bluebeard about cash donations and taxes and I will go out and...I don't know...arrest Fables?"
Bigby was holding back a laugh at even just the thought of attempting a professional conversation with the sack of rotten shit that was Bluebeard. "You're a better person than I am, Snow, and I don't envy you. Put me in your chair and I wouldn't last thirty-fucking-minutes."
"Oh I don't know about that."
She laughed only a little and by god, if Bigby could bottle a sound forever it would be that; her laugh. Not the forced chuckle she employs during the town galas where she must bite her tongue at every snide comment someone makes about her job, not the eerily perfect laugh she has during her meetings with King Cole, where she plays the role of a dutiful worker bee all to quell his own anxieties.
Her genuine laugh is something else, maybe the only pure thing in Fabletown. It's deeper than her usual airy tone and slightly wheezy every time.
It sucks a little less to be Bigby Wolf on a day where he makes her laugh.
"I mean it, first person to complain about their failed start up and they're getting something thrown at 'em." Bigby had his phone pressed between his shoulder and ear as he fiddled with a new cigarette; her rich voice compounding with her usual sugar cane scent was sending his sleep deprived wolf brain into hyperdrive, picking up on the slightest hitch of her breath and warping them into sultry sighs.
A slippery slope indeed.
"Like what?" Snow bit her lower lip, entertaining his impatience for a moment.
He hummed over an answer. "How fond of that stapler are you?"
Another light laugh from her. Perfectly light and perfectly her and perfectly so....
"Christ, let me swim in that laugh." All Bigby could do was grip the handle of his phone tighter, his nails digging into his own palm. Was he drawing blood? Who gives a shit. The iron stench was an appreciated cut through her overpowering aroma, a brief distraction was still welcoming.
"Best I can offer you is a thick book. We are not allowed to touch the weapons in storage, need I remind you."
Bigby scratched his beard, the image of Snow brandishing a divine sword was wholly pleasant. The irony of it wasn't lost on him, brief flashes of memory played in his mind from the fateful day they met. Even with sickly pale skin tarnished with dirt and grime, giving her the appearance of a cracked porcelain doll, somewhere within her was the strength to go up against the big and the bad that had taken residence within the dark forest.
Bigby smiled at the memory, at her in general, at this delicious phone call. "You drive a hard bargain, Princess. But I'll take it."
Princess. That made her heart flutter and scream all at once, an ugly symphony really. It was how she'd navigated most of her -unbearably long- adult life; heartbreak and grief on centre stage taking the bow. From the very first night chaos crept in and made a home inside her floorboards and bled into the walls, she could rely on those two feelings to show their ugly heads, pointing and laughing at her.
"You know I'm not actually gonna throw a book at someone right?"
Then again, he was still here. The truthfully beautiful note amongst the fucked up orchestra of her mind.
"I surely hope not." She whispered into the receiver.
"You sound tired."
That got another yawn out of her. "I'm not trying to hide it."
"I can grab you a coffee if you want to keep working?" A latte with one sugar, just how she liked it.
Snow again eyed her clock, the digits flashing the most ugly shade of red, then to the door and again to the receiver. Her heart found its original beat, still smiling into the phone as if he could see it. Could she let him see it? See her?
She let out a quiet sigh. "Another night, after meeting with Bluebeard I think I've given all I can today." She could now add spineless to her seemingly endless list of self-deprecating thoughts, another moment to mull over at night with the moon.
Bigby was already finding himself missing her, and was already kicking himself over it. "Still way more than anyone else would give."
Her eye-roll was automatic. "Oh please-"
"Snow, why did you call me?"
Snow took a deep breath, an incredibly shaky one at that. There was no malice in his tone, no hidden agenda to his question. He had never hidden anything from her, she wishes she could say the same about herself. Tears were beginning to gloss up her baby blue eyes. "I guess...I just missed talking to you today." Tears that held her truth, concealing feelings and words she didn't know how to voice yet.
It was enough for him, leaving her to dictate every interaction and boundary. Whatever line lay between them was something he'd never dare cross alone, lest she some day hold out her hand for him, palm open, exposed and inviting.