Remembrance Day

Snow's slender fingers struggled with the lighter momentarily before it finally lit. Satisfied, she took a small, nervous drag from the cigarette and exhaled. Her cough afterwards carried on the wind as the smoke did, and she cursed inwardly. She leaned forward on the balustrade and sighed as she tried to lose herself in the city lights and the cigarette and the gin. The empty balcony was a small blessing for her exhaustion.

It was a dreary winter's night, but the party going on inside shed some warmth on Snow's back. Her shoulders were exposed in her low-backed dress, an emerald green number she had picked up just the day before in her apathy. It was doing its job nicely, a glamorous look that kept up the charade that everything in Fabletown could be as simple and pretty as it was in the Homelands. The sentimentality made her nauseous and Snow adjusted her puffy shoulders lower. She wasn't quite as sold on shoulder pads as the rest of mundy women were now, but Snow felt bound to keep up with the times. Projecting the face of a functional, happy Fable while appearing as a modern mundy was essential to the Grand Experiment.

She took a drag from the cigarette, successfully this time. It was okay; it gave her something to do with her hands. She wanted more from it, more numbing feeling, but the small pleasure it gave was an empty one. She took a sip of gin and gazed thoughtfully at the street below her.

The sounds of laughter and music played loudly behind her, and it made part of her grin. The Remembrance Day Ball used to be one of her favorite days of the year, but it seemed to sour as time went on. It seemed pointless and more hopeless than before, all this clinging to the past, clinging to false faces. It was even more putrid after the events of this year's summer. The exposé of the maze of organized crime combined with the failures of the government to do anything for its citizens had given Snow her new position and new purpose. She felt whole, nearly, for some time. Nearly half a year later, however, Snow felt hollow.

"Snow?"

She nearly jumped out of her heels, quickly dropping the cigarette off the balcony and down to the street below. She clutched at her glass of gin as she turned to face who was behind her.

"What are you doing out here?"

It was the Sheriff. He was clad in his ages-old suit and his slicked back hair. It was a tired look, but Snow had admitted to herself that it fit him well. She stayed tense but tried to look unsurprised as she turned back to the banister. "I was just…taking a break from all the commotion."

"Oh yeah?"

She nodded and drank again.

Bigby joined her at her side and looked down from their height to the ground beneath them. They shared silence for a moment before he began, "Did you just drop that cigarette off the building?"

"Cigarette? What cigarette?"

"You must think I'm a pretty sad excuse for a wolf if I can't smell when someone's been smoking."

Snow cursed and shook her head, ready to deny it still but then giving up. She kept her gaze forward and didn't reply.

"What's the deal? I thought you hated that shit."

"I do. But I'm…exceedingly restless tonight, and I thought that might help. So far the gin has just made it worse."

Bigby's eyes widened and Snow nearly blushed at her own candor.

"Where'd you get that, anyway?"

"Some waiter on his break was out here. He was kind enough to assist."

Bigby started to laugh, turning so he could lean his back against the banister. "I bet that waiter nearly died. Snow White asking him for a cigarette…He's going to remember that for the rest of his life."

Snow turned red and faced him, "What does that mean?"

He kept his lax posture and his grin, "It means you're gorgeous and everyone looks up to you in some way. That kid probably never predicted that he could ever be alone on a balcony with you in his lifetime, nevertheless with you asking him for a favor."

"Come on, nobody likes me."

Bigby scoffed and shook his head. "You're important, Snow. You're a hero."

"If I'm such a hero, I certainly have a lot of citizens in my office every morning, yelling at me."

"You're accessible," His face grew meditative momentarily before he continued, "You're a queen of the people. Definitely enough of a figurehead to leave a waiter incoherent for the rest of the night. "

She crossed her arms and they were quiet again, listening to the band play in the background. Snow stayed firm in her denial but didn't feel like facing the impenetrable wall of the sheriff's glowing praise.

"Well, what are you up to out here, sheriff?"

Bigby reached for his own carton of cigarettes as he considered the question. "I'm just snooping around, doing my job, really. Keeping the peace. A sheriff's work is never done."

Snow let out a laugh, the first genuine one of the night. Bigby grinned before lighting his cigarette expertly.

"Surprised to see Charming here this year."

Placing her hand under her chin, Snow's head lolled towards him as she hardly contained her eye roll, "I'm not. With my promotion he's sure to be sniffing the money out. I guess no one told him about this year's budget cuts."

Bigby's smirk grew. "Has he been chatting you up?"

"Only constantly. Like everyone else here at this party congratulating me on my first term here."

"Y'know, I'm sure I could find a way to send him back to Europe. Pin something on him. I could figure it out."

She snickered but shook her head in disapproval, "Oh, no. I appreciate the offer though," She reached up and brushed a few raven strands from her eyes, "It wouldn't be so exhausting if everyone didn't put me on a pedestal. Everyone is watching me. I feel like they're waiting for me to mess up."

"You're powerful. They respect you."

"A pedestal isn't power. A pedestal is a lack of respect." Snow took one final drink, emptying her glass before setting it down on the banister, "I've been placed on enough of them to know that, finally."

"They're just intimidated, so they put you up above them. That's part of any job with power."

The sheriff turned around to face the city again, resting on his elbows and leaning closer towards Snow. She glanced down at him and smelled the faint liquor on his breath. He seemed to be in a good mood and as he smiled and smoked, it was even beginning to rub off on her.

Snow shook her head and sighed, "I'm sorry. I don't mean to put this all on you, of all nights."

"You don't have to apologize. Really." His gravel voice softened with his kindness.

Relaxing her tense shoulders, Snow swallowed hard and briefly considered her sobriety before she let go. She moved closer and rested her head on his arm, keeping her gaze forward out to the skyline. Bigby didn't react, not even shifting his weight. The connection between their touch seemed to heal a part of her scattered thoughts, and she relished it as she had wanted to relish the cigarette earlier.

She began again, "I've been so tired this past few–"

"Ms. White? Are you out here?"

Snow's back straightened instantly as she turned to the voice behind her and stepped back. Boy Blue appeared around the corner a moment later, his eyes widening as they met with his boss.

"I've been looking for you; they're going to be doing speeches soon," He stopped in his tracks, glancing at Bigby and raising his brow, "Oh, I'm sorry if I was interrupting business…"

Snow shook her head and smiled at her assistant, "Oh no, Blue, don't worry. We were just catching up on current events," She took a deep breath and turned to Bigby, "You should come with, Sheriff. It's been a big year for you, too."

"I just have to stand there and look good, right?"

Snow smiled but dropped her gaze from Bigby's eyes before she led them both back to the Ball.