What is with that bitch and putting bullets in people I – people who matter. To me, personally.

Which, to review, would be me. Rose Red, I suppose, since she is my sister, even after that shit she pulled with Jack, almost giving me a nervous breakdown… And Blue, since I do work with him every day.

I suppose I can include Bigby. He is my right hand man. I depend on him, and whatever anyone says, I'm not too proud to admit it.

And then there's…

Really? Is there no one else? Well. That's a little sad.

Bigby mutters something about going to find us a cab, since there's no need to wait for our luggage. Since none of that camping shit was actually ours we didn't bother to bring it. A little (wasteful) payback to whoever was behind all this.

After our little run in with Goldilocks we're less inclined to believe it was Jack after all. Lucky for him. Bigby would have destroyed him. If I didn't get there first. After the shock of our initial escape from Goldie wore off I became livid again.

Of all the humiliating situations to find myself in! Stuck in the wilderness playing happy campers with Mr Big Bad himself. If it wasn't for our near death experiences I would almost have suspected him of somehow being behind it. The forest is his favourite place to be, after all. And he did trick me into going to the Remembrance Day Ball with him. I'm still pretty pissed off about that. Some underhanded surprise holiday could almost be his idea of a good follow up date.

Except that he promised he'd let the matter drop, and Bigby doesn't lie. At least, not to me. And he hasn't tried anything since, I made sure of that. I kicked him to the curb pretty hard after he confessed his little scheme, and I regret it in no way.

Although, he was very sweet, visiting me when I was recovering from the first time Goldie tried to kill me. Annoying, but sweet. Still. He doesn't need to know that.

And whatever enchantment got us – me? – out there and robbed us – me? – of a couple of days isn't really his style. If he wanted to steal me away somewhere he'd be much more likely to knock me over the head and heave me off cave-man style.

I look at him sideways, but Bigby's resolutely not looking at me, scuffing his toe on the dirty white tile of the airport arrivals area. He's been doing that a lot, I've noticed. Not looking at me. And breathing through his mouth.

I guess he could be embarrassed about what he told me, and suddenly I don't want to look at him either.

Not that I'm embarrassed, though. Or shy.

That would be ridiculous. I'm a grown woman, centuries old. And I've had men panting after me my whole life. I had Prince Charming desperate to rescue me.

And look how that turned out.

I lift my chin and look at Bigby directly. He's travel worn, sweaty and dishevelled, as usual. He's also looking slightly pained and clearly dying to get out of the terminal, out of the no-smoking area to light up and relieve the olfactory overload. And he looks like a lumber jack. (As do I. I can't wait to get back into my own clothes.) And maybe it's just the left over stress of fleeing for our lives. Or traces of that strange almost strangling surge of mixed up emotions including but not limited to terror and relief when he suddenly appeared not dead, despite that round of bullets. (Wasn't Goldie a sadistic bitch too? Planning to draw out his painful death.) But suddenly he isn't looking too bad.

Why should I be embarrassed? Maybe I like Bigby's style of appreciation. Sure, it seemed kind of creepy and stalkerish at first (I mean, he basically told me he spies on me twelve hours a day, if not more, even if he doesn't mean to). But maybe I want to be acknowledged in a sensuous kind of way, for being a real woman with sweat and blood and an odour and a heartbeat. Rather than as some aesthetically frozen 'Fairest in the Land' china doll, kept in a glass case. I've had quite enough of that from the dwarves.

And maybe I don't want to be the Fairy tale Princess anymore. It's like having a sign hanging around my neck saying 'Look, don't touch'. Where's the appeal in that, after all? People get bored of toys they can't play with. Charming taught me that.

Maybe I want to be smelled and heard and touched. I haven't been touched in any way in a really long time. No one ever casually touches my shoulder or my arm, or gives me a hug or nudges me playfully. I'm the Princess, or rather the Ice Queen. It's just not done.

The airport's bustling, but suddenly I feel lonely.

I grab Bigby's arm on impulse before he can walk away. I know he knows I've been watching him, but until now he's been ignoring it. His hand goes to my elbow and his arm is steadying me.

What's the matter?

I'm fine. Someone jostled me, I tell him. He leaves it at that. Doesn't question how that could have happened when there's currently no one within five feet of us. Bigby's good like that. He doesn't press, just accepts what I say or do without comment, at least most of the time.

I feel a strange rush of warmth for him.

Bigby's dependable, he doesn't make a fuss. And he's kind, in his own special way, his 'I'll-eat-your-family-if-you-ever-tell-anyone-I-did-this' kind of way. Unapproachable, but readily available at the same time.

Bigby, at least, isn't afraid to touch me. Should I be afraid to touch him? The Big Bad Wolf.

I suppose I should be afraid. After all, look at what he did to the Three Little Pigs, Red and her grandmother. He's not got a great track record with human Fables.

But I'm not afraid of him and I haven't been for centuries. Even when we first met, aside from the first thrill of ancient, instinctive fear, I could readily see him in the light of a saviour, someone who set me free from the slave gang. He was no worse than the Adversary, in fact he was preferable. He was, at least, a fellow Fable.

But I have to admit I like the physicality of him. I like the sturdiness I can feel under my hand when I occasionally touch him. I like the security of having his forearm under mine , before he drops it and starts to step back.

I step with him.

And (though I will never ever admit it) I liked riding on his back, feeling the raw power and strength of him beneath me, or sleeping (in no way cuddled up) with his heat and bulk around me.

And the truth is, when I'm with him I feel safe. It could be because (like the rest of Fabletown) I know exactly what he's capable of. No one will mess with me while he's at my shoulder.

Maybe it's all down to his super senses. It's like having an early alarm system in the form of a person (or something close). Yes, that must be it.

But I shouldn't rely on him too much or get lazy. A woman should never rely on a man when she can rely on herself.

Though I've got to admit it was handy having Mr Wilderness himself along throughout this whole bizarre escapade. He saved my life and probably my sanity, getting me out of that damned forest as fast as he did. Though, it still took forever to get to the airport, despite Goldie inadvertently leading us to a main road. (One we would have found sooner or later anyway thanks to Bigby's famous nose.)

A few hitchhikes later and we were there. Though, I was glad for Bigby's presence – some of those drivers were creepy. I almost wished I could have just stuck with Bigby travel, but he didn't offer and there was no way in hell I was going to request it. Besides, he was in pretty bad shape after what Goldie did to him. He probably appreciated the rest, defending my virtue from pervert truckers and all.

Would he be such a bad option after all?

I decide to plunge ahead and broach the subject.

The look on his face is priceless. I just love wrong-footing him. As he likes to frequently remind everyone we know, it's not easy to catch him off guard. Congratulations to me, I can't remember the last time I've seen him look so surprised – perhaps not since I first asked him to come to Fable Town with me.

And he's smiling too, wry and a little embarrassed, like a teenager. And isn't that hilarious? I wonder fleetingly if he's ever been indirectly asked out before.

I suppress a bubble of laughter in my throat. We're in an airport, not the Homeland, and certainly not in either of our stories, but suddenly I realise I'm Red and I'm stepping off the path.

And it feels good.

A/N: Thank you everyone who's been reading and leaving reviews for this story! Your comments are hugely encouraging and great motivators for finally getting on with writing more. I was less sure about this chapter, about capturing Snow's voice, but I thought, what the hell, I'll publish it anyway. So constructive criticism would be appreciated. Thanks!