the earth sank beneath us, pressed by the weight of the whole universe above. how could it set us up like this, every planet precisely aligned, if it didn't mean for us to collide? -

top 3 once ships.

top 3 once ships.

oh, you can hear me cry. {emma/graham} - three

title: oh, you can hear me cry ( link)
author: officerparker
summary:  There’s a hole inside of her, a void she didn’t even know was there; something had been ripped out and crushed into dust. 
So, apparently I just can’t get Graham’s voice right.

one - two -  three. (

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oh, you can hear me cry. {emma/graham - ouat} -two

note: so here’s chapter 2, hopefully it will do chapter one justice :) It’s going to start being a little less “poetic” and more… action-y. There’s no direct Emma/Graham in this one but I needed to write these scenes and get Regina out of the way (this time). Next will there shall be fluff though, and lots of it!

Now, onwards:

one. two. (

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oh, you can hear me cry. {emma/graham - ouat}

title: oh, you can hear me cry ( link)
author: officerparker
summary:  There’s a hole inside of her, a void she didn’t even know was there; something had been ripped out and crushed into dust.
disclaimer: I own my crappy writing and my tears.
author’s note: THIS IS A HAPPY ENDING STORY OKAY, because this show is supposed to be my happy fluffy show with happy endings and butterflies and rainbows and unicorns and the writers had no right to take it away from me!!!!


This is my take on how the story goes because this is my “haha idgaf face this is how it happens and try and stop me this is my reality and that’s how it goes” version of my dear hot hipster sheriff’s demise (in which he actually lives).

So, without further ado:


When he falls to the ground she feels the breath leave her chest; a punch to her gut and a light-headedness she isn’t familiar with. She falls after him, knees scraping and head pounding, gathering him in her arms, feeling for a pulse, feeling for his breath, feeling for his heart. He has a heart, she chants, he has a heart, he has a heart; she felt it under her palm, he felt it under his palm, it had been strong and frantic and alive and his beat pulsed between their hands.

But she can’t feel anything now, all she can feel is the unnatural warmth seeping into her palm and the rough material of his shirt inside the fist her hand formed and the tears coming forth in waves.

Maybe you should call an ambulance, but her brain is hazy and her eyes are blurry and her hands are shaking and her breath isn’t working like it should. She shakes him and calls his name and hits a fist against his chest and begs God oh please, oh please, oh please; she isn’t even religious.

“Graham!” Maybe if she screams louder he will listen, he will stop this and wake up and open his eyes. It’s a very bad joke but if he’s alive she won’t mind it too much.

A sob escapes her lips and she doesn’t even recognize herself; it’s been 10 years since she felt this vulnerable, since she let herself cry to sleep and pain overwhelm her body and the loneliness and reality of her situation hit her like a hammer. Never again, she had told herself, never ever she’d open herself again to this.

Emma hits his chest once more before the last bit of hope abandons her and covers her face with her hand, hiding herself from the tears, from the body, from the room and the little things that had become so hers and his in such a short time. Maybe if she just closes her eyes for a moment everything will be different when she opens them.

She doesn’t let herself hope too much, though, sits there with her back against the desk and sobs into her palms.

You should call an ambulance, the thought hits her again, and this time the numbness is taking over; she had been hysterical, out of character, childish, ignoring the basics, ignoring common sense.  She can’t think, she’s lost in her own prejudice. That’s why the walls are there, should always be there, she berates herself. Never take them down, never let anyone in; if keeping love out is a price to not let pain in, she’s willing to pay.

Emma gets up, rises slowly, tries not to look at Graham lying on the floor, worn out and tired and disheveled; almost like a ragdoll. She tries to wipe her tears, but they keep coming, her face always wet and blotchy, there are spots in her vision and for a moment she thinks she might faint.

She can still feel his lips on her like a ghost brushing across her skin and the trail his hands left as they brushed against her sides like burning holes as she reaches for the first telephone she finds and tries not to look at him; her eyes betray her and stare.

There’s a hole inside of her, a void she didn’t even know was there; something had been ripped out and crushed into dust because the emptiness isn’t normal, maybe it’s her heart, she thinks, maybe her heart stopped when his did.

She turns her back to him because she can’t focus and her fingers shake like falling leaves as she tries  to dial and she still misses the first two times. When her vision clears enough for her to hit the right numbers she hears it; a desperate gasp, a painful groan and her heart is suddenly beating an unhealthy rhythm against her chest.

When she turns he’s bent over, clawing at his chest with desperate pain, coughing and gasping and she falls to her knees again, his name dies in her lips and the phone is abandoned somewhere; she doesn’t notice, she falls at his side, helps him remove his tie and vest and quickly undoes the buttons of his shirt and just holds on.

“Graham, can you hear me?” She can’t quite believe her own words, her own ears or eyes, so she touches him; run her hands down his shoulders and arms and touches his hands and let her fingers graze his cheeks and neck, lets his warmth once again seep into her palms because this time is different. She smiles through her tears and a laugh escapes her mouth.

When his coughing slows and his breath becomes less frantic she has a hand splayed against his back, fingers brushing ever so slightly and the tears are still falling, but this time it doesn’t hurt quite so much. She helps him lean against the desk and sits across from him, her hand gently holding one of his because she can’t lose the connection.

“What happened?” He sounds disoriented and his voice is strained, but there’s color coming back to his face and he’s holding her hand back and she can feel his heart pulsating against their fingertips.

“You just… collapsed. Your heart,” her voice catches because this is still too raw, because for a few moments she had watched all her dreams fall apart.

“I felt…” he seems to be trying to look for the right words or maybe just trying to clear his head and he blinks, as if a memory has just fallen into place. “… like my heart had been ripped out.” 

“I should call for a doctor.” This time her thoughts are in the right place and she isn’t shaking so much; her tears have finally stopped and when she tries to move closer to him she realizes how tightly she’ holding his hand.

“No,” he says quickly, too quickly and she frowns but lets him pull her towards him, keeping her from getting up, from getting to a phone. “Don’t call anyone.”

“Graham, you just… your heart stopped.”

“I’m fine now.”

She stays there kneeling by his side and her leg is touching his and their hands are laced and his eyes are clear. She finally feels her head pounding now that the adrenaline is starting to wear off and the earlier encounter with Regina rushes to the front of her brain; suddenly she’s completely worn out as if she has just gone through a day that had 48 hours instead of 24 and when she checks the clock she’s surprise to find out only a few minutes have passed.

“How’s your head?”

She laughs, how can he be worried about her well being when he had just died? He died, she thinks, for a few minutes he had been dead, gone, and now her brain is finally processing the thought and as it sinks in she wants to cry again.

“It’s pounding. How’s your chest?”

“Burns a little.”

“Graham…” His name comes in a broken whisper and his hand finds her face, palm covering her cheek and she leans into his touch before she has any control of her actions.

“I’m fine, I promise.”

She closes her eyes and trusts his words because there’s nothing else she can do. His touch his warm and firm and his thumb brushing gently against her skin cracks a little bit more of her wall inside.

She needs to bring those walls back in place, firm and solid and thick; she knows it’s the right thing to do, the sane thing to do, but she can’t, not with him because she wants to let him in, she needs him in.  For a few minutes she had known what it felt like to not have him in her life anymore and that’s something she isn’t willing to go through ever again.

She’s startled when she feels his lips press against hers, gently and innocent, but immediately relaxes, tries to clear her head from those thoughts and just let herself enjoy the moment and when he pulls back her arms go around his neck, keeping him close.

They stay there for a while; chained together inside their embrace, inside the silent police station while the darkness rages outside.