She could search the world for somewhere to belong. When she was a little girl living in a world inhabited by fear and apprehension, the need to be free was great. Most of the time she was content having Granny, but she felt coddled and stuck. She could readily admit that she was immature, not fully understanding the intense need Granny had to protect her from herself and from a world that would sooner destroy her than try to help and understand her.

Before the curse ended in Storybrooke, she was still filled with what she thought was wanderlust. She would see foreign lands on the television, read tales in books and think "Maybe that's it". Maybe she could find where she should be in the plateaus of Australia; the tall grasses of the Savannah; the lush, humid canopies of the Amazon rainforest.

She wondered about what kind of people she would meet. Would they join her on travels? Would they share a meal with her before parting ways, each on their own path?

She imagined herself both on her own and with others. She would have a trusty set of travel gear and be free in a way she never had before.

The aspects of the wolf that bled into her everyday life had her call them her pack. Red might have sensitive olfactory perception and visual perception, but she still was human. However, both the wolf and human side agreed that pack was a good name for it as any.

Granny and Snow were two main pillars of her pack. Granny raised her. Snow was her first true friend, close enough that she could have even been called a sister. Others rounded out the pseudo-pack she called her own-Charming, Henry, and Emma came to mind instantly.

There was a part of her searching for something more, though. She loved her family and would take care of them in whatever way was needed, but she wanted someone else, too. Somewhere she fit would be nice-someone who could understand her for one.

She never thought she would be friends with Dr. Victor Frankenstein. They became friends easily. Those calm nights on the dock started it and it just continued naturally as time progressed. He became her confidante in a way that no one else was.

While they have their spot at the dock, sometimes they would find themselves elsewhere. Quiet nights at the Inn when it's a little too cold; the diner if their schedules both involve a late night of work.

The night she realizes they have truly become something between casual friends or perhaps something more is in the beginning throes of fall. The diner was officially closed for the evening and she was cleaning up. He was sitting at the counter, polishing off a free meal.

She had flirted, stated he could pay for it in other ways. He had merely smirked and nodded slowly as if contemplating the idea.

Now, she is murmuring along to the random playlist she has going at a low volume. She is half paying attention to when he stands up and increases the sound, not fully realizing until he is almost in front of her.

She knows her voice falters when she asks what he is doing and she is a little annoyed with herself for it.

"I'm testing a theory," he replies.

As they slowly sway to the music, her eyes burn a bit. She has just realized that somehow, he squeezed his way in. He has become part of the few that she calls pack-calls friends and family. They can mercilessly tease each other and try to one up each other. They can spend quiet nights reading passages from favorite books to each other. They can say nothing at all and be content. She realizes that she can even be coerced into a dance and feel safe. For a little girl who grew up primarily alone with just her Granny for company, it means much more to her than she had thought possible.

She hadn't entirely noticed her enhanced senses so much when she was small. She just assumed they were a normal everyday thing-Granny would never mention her heightened hearing or keen sense of smell as odd, so she never really paid much mind to them. As she got older, she realised how ingrained they were in her. She knew farmers could tell when rain was on the way through a seemingly mystic sixth sense. For her, it was the extremely far off hint of thunder; the way the wind would smell of damp earth.

She could tell what creatures were near by, both by sound and fragrance. She could hint the slightly cloying smell of flowers; the crispness of nearby flowing fresh water.

Scent was so much...more to her than she imagined it was to others. Certain smells were tied to an individual, and certain individuals had scents that identified who they were.

Granny, for instance, smelled of the hearth of their little cottage-she could detect the scent of apple pie and a hint of earth that spoke of stability. Even now while living in Storybrooke she carried that same scent.

Snow White smelled of cool crystal waters and on occasion, a slightly sour note that bespoke grief.

That was another thing she had never realized. The very nature of people carried certain notes. Scents could be tied into what someone did for a living, or the emotion they predominantly carried, or perhaps even the way they lived. It was possible over time for a persons scent to come to reflect what they surrounded themselves with-almost as if their pores and follicles were a sponge.

Peter had been musty-a scent of cedarwood and moss. His desire for adventure was apparent when she could smell spice, almost like a foreign herb that hinted at far away places.

She had not realized she had been pondering so deeply. The night was pressing in around her, the moon new in its cycle. The Inn behind her was still and quiet. Granny had long since retired, taking her hearth-smell with her. The night was warm, but dry. She could hear a horned owl in the surrounding forest; a deer a ways away rummaging through the undergrowth; footsteps from the side of the Inn.

That last one took her for a slight surprise, but considering it was an essence that she knew well, she was unconcerned.

"Victor," she greeted. Her eyes shifted from the stillness before her to the towns resident doctor of every type as he settled beside her. She did not really have to question why he was there-it was sort of an unspoken concept that downtime was spent together, especially late nights.

"Red," he said.

He was clearly just off from a shift at the hospital. His slacks were black, professionally unwrinkled. He had lost the lab coat somewhere between work and here-the sleeves on his dark blue shirt were rolled up to elbow displaying his strong forearms. He might have been a scientist, but he clearly spent time other places than a laboratory.

"What are you still doing up?" he asked. His shoulder bumped hers, comforting in its familiarity.

She shrugged. "I can't sleep. Not too unusual. It must be the wolf in me," she huffed a self-depreciating laugh.

He did not correct her. He knew, from many conversations previous, that while she did accept the wolf it could still be a challenge.

Her feet were resting on the step below her and her arms were folded across her raised knees. Her red t-shirt and dark shorts were more than sufficient for the dry heat of mid-summer.

His hand lifted then and there was no hesitation in its motion as he carded it through her hair. Once the act was carried through, his arm came to rest very naturally around her shoulders. His thumb caressed her skin in a soothing pattern. He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head and that was familiar, too.

Having him so close, she inhaled his aroma. She had noticed it previously, of course, but she really paid attention to it then. His scent was complex. It was an overall clear and crisp scent-influenced by the doctor in him, she assumed-that rang of mint and cotton. At the same time, he had a hint of being a scientist and a man-well-worn leather and the scent of pine. Buried a bit deeper, she could smell what she eventually came to realize was regret. It was a heavy scent with a tang to it, one that made her wish just a bit that she could peel away from him like an overused, threadbare sweater.

It seemed to sing out to her, this aura of his. She understood the regret in him-it might have been a different type of regret, but she knew she had it, too.

It struck her then in a way that it hadn't before, even with all the conversations and build-up of friendship and companionship they had experienced.

She turned her head, staring at him with wide eyes.

"Red?" he inquired.

He felt it then, the air between them thicker than perhaps ever before. The world seemed to shrink around them, just a little. Infinite space and inky blackness above them with stars glinting and flickering in the dark.

His stare was steady, his arm shifting from her shoulders to let his palm and fingers follow the curve of her jawline. They leaned towards each other in tandem.

Her eyes fluttered closed as her heart seemed to turn over, beating steady but fast.

"It's you," she stated, firm. "You're part of my pack."

Her eyes met his. It was a testament to how well he understood and knew her that he had no need to question what she even meant.

"You're red," he returned. "I'm right here."

Somehow, she knew what he meant, too-that he was not just speaking her name and that when he said "here" he was implying more.

She smiled, a soft upturn of her lips that needed nor had the usual sass to it.

She whispered.

"You're where I belong."

Please review! Just let me know you liked it? Second one-shot for these two I've written in two days, both unbeta'd. Oops?