Title: Take a Break
Summary: Graham sees Emma struggle through the curse, but the only thing he can do for now is let her lean on him.
Note: Mini sequel to Breaking Free. Based on a prompt for the 12 Days of Shipmas challenge, #8 "how much eggnog have you had?"

The door shut and the bell jangled mutedly. He looked out into the dark and blew out a low, fogged breath in the cold. He looked down, finding her just where he thought she'd be. She looked worse for the wear, and he paused as he studied her. "How much eggnog have you had?"

She looked up blearily and glowered, then faced the street again. She took another sip from the small glass cup and cradled it in both hands. "Not enough," she said succinctly, as if daring him to berate her for it.

He zipped his jacket up a bit and sat next to her on the steps. They were covered by the overhang of the roof, but just barely. The toes of his shoes already became sprinkled with snowflakes as he settled next to her. "I know it's a lot," he ventured.

She laughed a little, humorlessly. "I know you know," she said.

Her voice wasn't yet slurred, but he could hear that there was care with how she spoke. He leaned against the railing and examined her. Her cheeks and nose were reddened from the cold, wrapped up in her red flannel scarf and puffy white jacket. The edge of her grey dress peeked out beneath, and the black tights around her legs seemed too sheer to provide any real warmth. Her boots were covered in enough fresh, white snow to look like part of the design of them. "Enough bourbon in there to keep you from freezing?" he asked.

She shrugged and said nothing.

He sighed and grabbed her gloved hand. She hesitated a moment and then leaned into him, letting him scoop her close. Her body was a little cold but less than he'd assumed, and he rapidly brushed his hands over her arms to warm her up as she settled into him. "Mary Margaret's been talking, then?"

She shook her head and took a long swallow of her drink. "She's trying to be my friend, still," she said, her tone strained.

He moved his hands over her legs and she curled in so he could better access them. "She was your friend before."

"Stop," she demanded sharply, and looked up to eye him. "You know it's different."

He pressed his lips together and said nothing for a long beat. They continued to stare into the empty street together, listening to the muffled sounds of the merriment from the diner just behind them.

"I miss it," she admitted softly. "When she could just be my friend."

He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer into him. "She still thinks that's all she is. And she's a good friend to you, Emma. It's okay to still think of her that way."

She swallowed thickly and then drank the rest of her cup. "She's hurt I moved out. I can tell."

He closed his eyes and rested his chin on her shoulder. She had been jumpy and uncomfortable in the loft a total of a week and a half after they'd rescued his heart from the crypt. She had shown up at his apartment at 11 at night, small box of her belongings in hand, eyes deliberately muted as she asked to move into the tiny office his spare bedroom was turned into.

It was a difficult decision for her. She hadn't exactly been ready to move in with him after their short period of not-quite-dating, true-love-having relationship. But more than that, she hadn't been able to deal with living with Mary Margaret, the woman that was her mother and didn't know it. If there was a choice, she would have certainly lived at a third option. Instead the entire town seemed to abide by the newly found ordinance of "no felons allowed to be tenants," even Mr. Gold with his too-knowing grin. And, of course, there was no leaving the town itself, leaving Henry.

It hadn't even really been a decision for him, in contrast. He was already committed to giving her anything she needed, and the idea of her being so close made him able to breathe easier. He could protect her better, especially as they had come to a sort of standoff with Regina.

The threats she made in the castle still loomed over him every time he crossed her path.

Your life is now in my hands – forever.

The Queen must know his heart was missing from her collection, must notice the difference in which he held himself now that he remembered. Must know what that meant, who Emma was and would be.

But while she had threatened their office and smeared lies and rumors about them in the Storybrooke Mirror, she had not yet threatened them with anything magical or too far beyond the laws of this world.

He hoped that meant she couldn't use her magic in this world.

Even so, it felt safer to have Emma with him. She bought a bed and used a suitcase as a dresser, and had been living with him for the past week. It made her feel better to have her own space, he knew, even if she spent her nights in his.

And so, they had found a routine together, settled, edged around those words he knew scared her. But for all it did for them and their relationship, it left Mary Margaret – Snow – once again on her own. It killed Emma, he knew that, but it had also been killing her to live there.

"When you break the curse, I'm sure she'll understand," he said after a beat.

She sighed in frustration and pulled out from his embrace. She tugged her hands through her hair and shook her head. "How the hell am I ever going to do that, Graham?"

He frowned slightly and slumped against the railing. "I don't know that. But I know you will."

"Goddamn Savior," she muttered and rose up, pacing the length of the step.

"Hey," he said and stood up, getting in her line. She stuttered to a stop and looked up at him warily. He reached out and cupped her jaw, rolling a thumb over her cheek. "No pressure."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, sure," she said and placed a flat hand over where his heart should be and pressed deliberately before falling off. "None there."

He doesn't much care about the missing item, being that it was safely locked away in the bottom of Henry's floorboards, but the reminder makes him shoot through with worry. Henry. If there was one thing that vexed him most, it was the fact that they couldn't get Henry away yet.

She resumed pacing on the step below him, anger and frustration through her every movement. She tripped a little, straight lines not abided in her drunken state. She looked right at that edge, the one he's seen rarely but has already ingrained in him. She was close to either crying or punching something.

"We can't worry about it tonight," he said finally.

She shook her head and her breath hitched. "It's too much."

"I know," he said, and cautiously took her hand. "That's why I'm here."

She turned reddened eyes up to him and huffed. "Graham, I—"

"Oh, hey, wasn't expecting …."

They both turned sharply, catching the sheepish smile of her father. Graham winced and looked down, dropping her hand at the same time.

David looked uncomfortable. "I didn't, ah, interrupt you guys or anything?"

Emma's face masked with a quick shutter. "It's fine, David."

Graham pulled up one shoulder. "Merry Christmas," he offered.

David's smile tentatively widened. "Same to you both. Sorry to barge out here on you both, it's just … all the people in there …."

Graham shook her head. "I get it."

Emma swayed slightly, and Graham caught her shoulder. He was certain that it wasn't just the alcohol making her unsteady. She raised her hand to her temple and looked away. "I'm sure it's an adjustment," she murmured.

David flinched slightly, hand tightening around the bottle in his hand. "You could say that again."

Graham's eyes flicked worriedly over him. He remembered seeing him only once in that other world. He had been strong, resilient, and, most of all, determined. He doesn't see any of that in him now. "How are things going?" he asked.

David offered a strained smile. "Oh, it's fine. Katherine and I have been sorting through my memories. I think almost everything is back," he said, but then frowned deeply.

Emma leaned heavily onto him and gripped his thigh in a tight clasp. He could feel the waves of apprehension and sorrow rolling off her. He carefully moved his hand across her stomach, flattening across to gently pull her in to him supportively. He nodded to David in acknowledgement. "It's a long road, I'd assume," he said, a response to both of them.

He sighed and stepped to the railing, looking up at the stars. "It's nice out," he commented, and then was silent a beat. He hesitated before speaking again, brow furrowed as he pieced out his thoughts. "I'm sorry about the quote, but the way. I'm sure Katherine didn't mean any harm."

Graham sighed as Emma growled slightly at the reminder. "Everyone has their opinion, I suppose," he muttered.

"I'm sure you'll both do just fine in the election," he said helpfully.

Graham's cheek twitched and he nodded sharply. The recall had been sparked by Regina, of course, and assisted by the smear campaign Sidney had spearheaded. As Regina had taken Katherine's side and fostered a thin friendship with the woman, she had been easy to pull a few quotes about how distasteful the scandalous relationship was between the Sheriff and his deputy.

Graham could find another job, he supposed. He enjoyed the position of power and insulation it gave him from the Queen, but he could do something else. He worried more about Emma, as that was one of the few tethers she had to this town.

"He'll win it. No problem," Emma pipped up, her green eyes sharp.

He blinked quickly, seeing for perhaps the first time a bit of the man opposite them in her: resilient, determined. He warmed slightly at her faith and shrugged. "I don't think Sidney has the resolve for the job. If not me, I'm sure Emma will win them over."

She scoffed loudly. "I'm not exactly well-liked here."

"I like you," David said softly, and smiled cautiously. "Gut reaction, I guess, since I don't really know either of you. But … I don't know. I trust you."

Emma fiddled with his hand nervously, nails biting into his wrist. He let her expel the nervous energy without reaction. "Thanks," she muttered.

David's smile turned guilty. "Katherine's given me some posters, though. She wants me to paper the square for her."

Graham held back from rolling his eyes. It wasn't David's fault to be certain, and not even Katherine's. Regina left her stamp over everyone's personalities in this town. He had firsthand experience of that. David's cursed persona, though – this meek man with little will of his own – he was unrecognizable.

The three were silent, and turned to watch the snow from the porch of Granny's a long moment. It was a fairly awkward silence, as Emma clung to him and Graham vacillated between curling her closer and keeping a fair distance with her father a few feet away.

"How's … how's Mary Margaret doing?"

Graham and she both looked up at the same time. He felt pity cross over his face, but he hid it as best he could.

"You could go inside and see for yourself," Emma said, a little incredulous but without heat.

David shuffled his feet and shoved his hands in his pockets. "I guess you're right," he murmured.

Graham considered the things she had not said as she struggled to understand the curse and the life she should have had. She never mentioned that tenuous grip that David and Mary Margaret had on each other, that spark that even Regina's power couldn't dim. But there were obligations in this world that Graham and Emma couldn't yet explain away, even if it killed them both to see. Graham especially winced whenever he saw Katherine cozy into her stiff husband, the forced relationship on them both making him empathetically sick to his stomach.

David patted his jacket, his face thoughtful. "I just … I got something for her. It's a book she said she liked. Do you think that's … do you think it's inappropriate?"

Emma shook her head. "I think it's fine," she answered quickly.

It had become almost natural to cautiously undermine David's sham marriage. They each worked how they could to feed into their true feelings a bit, to push them closer. Maybe that was the key; if Emma could bring her parents together again, maybe the curse would shatter for everyone else.

David visibly swallowed and nodded. "Okay, then … okay. I'll go ahead and give it to her, then."

He was still hesitant, but Graham watched as he gathered his confidence to enter the diner again. The door jingled, and he half turned to them. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," they said in unison.

Emma sunk into him when the door shut, her eyes wide as she watched him approach Mary Margaret. "He knows something's wrong."

He nodded. "It's just an inkling, though. Even less than what I had," he mused.

She leaned up on tiptoes, pressing her lips to his heavily. The whiskey-laced kiss was as clumsy as it was needy, seeking a reassurance he was happy to give. Her lips tugged downward as she pulled back, her brow furrowed. "You stuck to your promise, right?"

He bobbed his head. "No gifts."

She wrapped her arms around him and slackened in relief. "Good. It's bad enough you pretend like half the rent is $20."

He shrugged and tugged a hand through her curls. "Having you there is good," he said simply.

She turned sea-colored eyes up to him, wary and unsteady but also so hopeful: vulnerability in a glance. She said nothing and kissed him again, much more firmly.

She was breathing heavy as they separated, and his eyes fluttered closed as he pressed her against the fencing surrounding the diner. "Maybe next year you'll let me get you something," he said, visions of a future dancing in his head. A tree, presents, family … when did that become something he wanted?

The answer came just as quickly. Loving her and wanting a future went hand in hand.

She was silent a moment. "D'you think next year … I'll have them?"

Her voice was so small it was almost unrecognizable. He scooped her in and swayed them side to side. In his mind, he had only pictured her and Henry. It was hard to picture Snow and her prince in that modern setting, especially when he was holding on to Emma like this. "We're on our way there, Emma," he said instead of a promise.

She burrowed into him. "Let's go home?"

He turned to look into the party, catching sight of Snow clutching the package David had given, her eyes a mirror of Emma's. Maybe there was hope for them yet. "Should we say goodbye?" he asked.

Emma shook her head. "I don't want to draw attention," she said, eyes wandering to Katherine speaking to the gym teacher in an opposite corner. "I just want to forget for a bit. Or at least pretend like everything will be okay."

"Thus the eggnog?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes. "I didn't have that much."

"And I'm not judging," he said, and took her hand. "Whatever you need."

She inhaled deeply and leaned in to kiss over his pectoral, then craned her neck to kiss his jaw. "I need you."

He cupped the back of her head and took her lips, tangling in her in that way that felt natural. "You've got me," he breathed over her lips when they parted.

Her lips curved and she nodded. "Then take me home."