Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You stared at your monitor, the dim screen barely reflecting back into your near-lifeless eyes as you mindlessly scrolled and robotically clicked through the usual files only to have to actually go into another file to really make any work at your mind-numbing task. Why were you even given this bullshit to begin with? You leaned back in your horribly worn chair, the spine and back cushion creaking eerily as the wheels squeeked against the “polished” stone floor. You picked up the paper cup filled with coffee to take a sip, only to sneer and place the flimsy cup back down. Your coffee had grown to be ice cold, there was a strange grittiness to the brew and it tasted like someone had replaced the coffee with ink.

You heard the constant rushing of other officers in the background, whatever your cubicle really allowed you to hear past the tall wood and styrofoam walls really. Mindless chatter, the bubbling of the water cooler, some cop banging the shit out a vending machine, that horrible fucking fax machine you wished the captain would put out of its misery. You were going to hear those grating sounds in your nightmares for the rest of your mundane life.

At least it wasn’t too bad, today. Normally, the oh so “charming” lifestyle New York City made things pretty ridiculous sometimes. The main office was pretty quiet today, so much so you could hear the very faint classical music playing overhead you normally couldn’t hear over the rambunctiousness of your fellow officers.

That was, until the bullpen was let out.

Just hearing that door slam open and the cops inside spilling out almost made you knock over your nasty ass coffee onto your keyboard. You slouched in your chair, leaning back as you finished your work finally after doing this boring nonsense all week. You took out the usb drive with a content sigh, toying with it in your hands as you listened in on what the others were saying. Something about a shoot out somewhere in the South Bronx caught your ear when you saw a reflection move past on your monitor screen when it stopped behind you. Turning, you quickly saw the tall and brawny figure of one of the sergeants who was casually leaning at the entrance to your cubicle.

“The captain’ll have your knees for leaning,” you turned back to your monitor. You were about to mindlessly pretend to look through stuff just to get him to go away, but he didn’t seem to get the hint. Turning back around after a few minutes, you noticed the stupid smirk on his face that you wanted to smack off so badly. “What?”

“He’s been havin’ ya on paperwork for the past two weeks. Don’tcha think somethin’s up?” his thick accent teased.

“Considering I’m the only one who knows how to do things the way he likes them, not really.”

The sergeant gave you a pointed look before shrugging.

“Whatever you say, rookie.”

“I’m not a rookie, I’ve been in this department for almost a year now.”

He ignored you and sauntered off, definitely eyeing one of the female cops that would bat their lashes at him to get out of work for the day. Just as you started fiddling with the usb drive, your stationary phone started to ring. You picked up the phone, noting how you needed to fix the coiled cord as it somehow became tangled yet again.

“(L/n),” you greeted with your last name.

“Officer (Y/n),” the captain’s smooth voice greeted you from the other end of the line.

“I finished all the paperwork, sir, I have the usb dr-”

“I know you have, you always get the job done. Please bring the drive to my office, and hurry. I have another assignment for you.”

The phone cut off with a monotone buzz. Placing the cradle back into the receiver, you stood from your squeaky chair and started for the captain’s private office which was past the bullpen that still had some cops. The few that remained inside eyed you as you neared the captain’s door, their voices hushed as they started bickering about what it was you could’ve done.

You didn’t need to worry.

You knew that if you had fucked up, the captain wouldn’t have hesitated to call your ass out from over the intercom and demand to come to his office louder than any military drill sergeant.

His door was closed and the blinds were drawn shut which was a bit odd unless he was speaking to someone important. You stopped before the door and knocked promptly, eyeing his placard with his name written in dark ink across the golden plate.

“Come in, Officer (L/n),” the captain called out.

“Are you sure that-” As you opened the door, the conversation that was just going on had cut off.

Aside from your captain who was in his seat behind his grand desk, there stood another man. Tall and broad but fairly thin, he was imposing for sure. Dark, slicked back hair. A tan tailcoat hiding the strength you knew this man had. And when he turned to you, you couldn’t help but feel a little threatened under his intense gaze. His eyes looked as though he’s seen some fucked up shit, he looked fucking tired too, like he hadn’t slept in days. His grown out stubble also showed that as well. He eyed you up and down, not saying anything, his face was hard to read.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but here’s the flash drive,” you spoke up, offering out the usb drive to your captain.

You captain stood from his desk and beckoned you to sit in one of the chairs provided, but not before accepting the drive from you. Your captain sat back down at the same time as you, but the other man in the room just stood. He moved away from the desk a little bit, his chest to you but he was now looking back at your captain.

“Excellent work, like always.” Your captain turned towards the stranger, giving him a look you really couldn’t read either. “I promise you, Sheriff, she is the right officer for the job.”
Sheriff? He didn’t look like the sheriff from the boroughs, and especially not any deputy. Was he maybe from upstate?

“I’m still not sure about this.”

His voice was deep and gravelly, like something out of an edgy comic book turned into media.

“Nonsense, Sheriff Wolf.” There it was again. Your captain turned towards you once again. “Officer (L/n), I’ve asked you here to see if you were willing and able to help Sheriff Wolf here with… a delicate situation.” You eyed the two back and forth slowly, confusion painted obviously all over your face. “You can back out at any moment if you wish to do so, but I must iterate the importance of keeping something this delicate between you and yourself alone. Nobody else must know.”

You eyed the “sheriff” warily once again. There’s no way your captain would do something stupid like leading you off with this guy. There has to be a reason.

“Okay?” You cocked your head in question. “What delicate thing are we talking about?”

You saw the stranger pull something from his pocket but you couldn’t tell what it was as it rested in his hand.

“Are you aware of what societies live along with us?”

“You mean cults?” you cocked a brow.

Your captain laughed, the stranger stayed quiet and unmoving.

“No, but that was a good one.” He regained his composure. “Let me rephrase this: Do you believe in the supernatural? The unknown?” You eyed your captain as though he were just some crazy loon. “There lives another society among us, a good portion of said society live right here in New York City across the five boroughs. Sheriff Wolf here is the- uh, peacekeeper for said group. You were the first officer to come to mind for this position.”

“What kind of secret society are we talking about?”

“Fairy tale creatures.”

A part of you never stopped believing in that kind of stuff, especially with some of the weird things that have popped up on the news recently. Photos of creatures that can’t be explained, videos that weren’t ever proven to be edited, miracles that just seemed to pop out of nowhere.

You eyed the stranger again before nodding to your captain.

“Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll help.”

Your captain’s shoulders slouched a bit in relief before he smiled at you.

“Thank you, Officer (L/n).” He motioned to the Sheriff as he stood. “You’ll be reporting to Sheriff Wolf here until this situation is done. He will give you all of the details.”

Sheriff Wolf pocketed the item - which, now that you got a good look at it - looked to be a perfume bottle? He walked towards the door and opened it, waiting for you to get up and pass through before he followed soon after. You uttered a soft ‘thank you’ before you both walked together towards the elevator.

You both stood in silence as the metal shaft rolled down. You stared at the numbers ticking down, wondering to yourself about what you possibly could have just gotten yourself into. You worried at the inside of your cheek and figeted with your hands until the doors swing open at the chime. You both started off for the front door of the station.

“So-”

“Not here,” he cut you off. He flinched at his own words. He stuck his hand out to hail a taxi. “Not here, there’s too many people. I’ll explain it all when we get there.”

A taxi driver finally caught sight of the sheriff and quickly pulled up to the curb. You were about to start for the other side when he opened the door for you once again. You couldn’t help the little flutter in your stomach at just a normal gesture as you quickly climbed in.

The Woodlands. You glanced at the seemingly solid gold plate slapped onto the stone pillar as you wait for Sheriff Wolf to pay for the taxi. You peered through the wrought iron fencing at the towering building. It looked as though they were luxury apartments and nothing more. It could use a good powerwashing, though. Other than that, from what he barely told you in the taxi, this would be where you were going to stay for a little while if you wanted. You honestly wouldn’t mind it; No crazy traffic, not getting wet when it pours, you get to stay in bed longer.

“So you’re all, um, fairy tale creatures?” you tried to strike up a conversation.

“Yeah.” Something told you he wasn’t exactly the type for small talk, but the silence between you both was suffocating. The sheriff opened the gate for you as you both walked towards the front doors to the apartment. “Gonna stop by the Business Office. Snow will wanna meet you if she’s still there.”

You beat him to the entrance this time, holding the door open for him to which he gave you a semi-amused look. As you stepped inside, it really was a shock at how dated the lobby was. Hell, it even had a security guard asleep at the front desk, slumped over the desktop, hat covering his bald spot as he drooled on his tie. The carpet was so discolored from packed on dirt, the wallpaper was stained from years of neglect, the chandelier in the center had a few bulbs that were that spiders had claimed to be their new homes.

Maybe you wouldn’t stay here…

“Snow? As in Snow White?” you asked as he called in an elevator.

How bad would that be if the lobby looked like this? Did you just sign your death certificate?

The sheriff hummed in agreement as he pulled out a carton of cigarettes, a brand you’ve never seen before: Huff n’ Puffs. He tapped the bottom so only one cigarette popped out the top and he took it with his teeth. He fished out his lighter but stopped before he could light the flame, eyeing you.

“You good if I smoke?” he asked you rather politely.

“Yeah, it’s fine.”

He lit the cigarette and pocketed his metal-plated lighter, making sure to blow the cigarette smoke away from you. You could smell that the cigarette was stale and a little old, but the way he scrunched his nose a bit drove it home.

‘What fairy tale creature was he?’ you couldn’t help but think.

 He didn’t look like any you’d recognize.

“Are you also a- uh- fairy tale person or…?”

He eyed you, throwing his brows up before puffing out another plume of smoke.

“Yeah.”

The elevator finally opened up, allowing you both to enter. You watched as he hit a button and the doors closed with an eerie creak before it jutted back to life. You were lying to yourself if you said you weren’t afraid of the thing collapsing underneath you and plummet into the basement.

“We never properly introduced ourselves.” You wanted to smack yourself across the face. Really? You bring that up now? He looked at you out of the corner of his eye, puffing out another plume away from you. “I’m (Y/n).” You stuck your hand out for him to shake. “You don’t have to say the whole Officer (L/n) schpiel, just (Y/n) is fine.”

He eyed your hand before he took it, and holy shit, his hand was big.

It was big and warm and calloused, and very strong. You could tell he was being gentle when he shook your hand.

“Bigby Wolf.”

Bigby? You never heard of a fairy tale character named Bigby Wo-

“Oh! You’re the big bad wolf?” you blurted out as your hands parted.

You felt like an idiot for not getting it earlier. Wow, just looking at him now, it kind of makes sense. But how was he… human?

“You got it right,” he gave an airy chuckle. “It took your captain a minute to get it.”

The elevator came to a direct stop, nearly toppling you over as the doors swung open. You quickly exited the damn thing, telling yourself you’ll take the stairs from now on as you followed Bigby down the halls.

“So - if you don’t mind me asking - how are you… human? Is that correct?”

“Normally, Fables that aren’t human need something called a glamour to make ‘em look human - to fit into the Mundy world.” He stopped and looked at you. “Mundies are people like you; Human.” He continued down the hall. “I didn’t need one after what Snow did to me before we all came here.” You briefly wondered what she did, but he filled in the blank for you. “She stabbed me with a special blade covered in werewolf blood.”

So he’s a werewolf? Like, a big, tall, hairy wolf man werewolf? Does he go crazy on full moons? Is that something you have to worry about now?

“Oh,” was all you could say. Your eyes briefly went to down to his coat pocket to see the faint outline of the perfume bottle. “Do you mind if I ask you another question?” He looked at you, stopping before a door and putting his hand on the door knob. “You had like a perfume bottle in your hand back in the captain’s office. What was that for?”

“It’s some magic shit the witches on the thirteenth floor concoted. It’s supposed to knock whoever out for a few minutes and make them forget about Fables. I would’ve used it on you if you said no.” He turned towards the door, looking at you barely over one of his broad shoulders. “Brace yourself, this isn’t shit you see everyday.”

What could he mean by that?

He opened the door and your jaw dropped. The place was fucking massive. Not only was it large enough to fit an entire circus in, it was also towering! You swore your entire station could fit in here with room to spare. You walked in, passing Bigby who was looking at you amused with his arms crossed. Your eyes scanned the towering bookshelves of books magically moving around and sorting themselves, spying the magical trinkets and statues that lined the carve outs of the wall. And the fucking ship. You watched as a fucking pirate ship lazily floated on by, the wood softly creaking as it turned in the air like it had down for so long.

“Holy shit,” you whispered. “This is your office?” you gawked as you looked back at Bigby.

The sheriff laughed. He actually laughed, the cigarette nearly falling from his mouth.

“Fuck no. My office is basically a glorified broom closet,” he walked past you. He eyed the three empty desks in the middle of the floor with a short frown. He sighed through his nose and took out the now near-burnt out cigarette before he snuffed it out on the heel of his dress shoe. “Stay here,” he looked at you, “I’m gonna go see if Snow’s still here.” You nodded silently, quickly wondering why he looked up at the ceiling as he walked away. “And don’t be scared if a green monkey with wings falls from the rafters, he’s just drunk.”

Your eyes widened as you watched him disappear behind a bookcase. You turned around, looking at all of the magical items that littered the room in awe.

You understood why something like this had to be kept a secret, but holy shit, this was wonderful.

You spied something out of the corner of your eye and slowly walked towards it. Stashed in between two rows of bookshelves laid a large mirror with a very intricately wound golden frame. It looked to be freshly dusted unlike most of the other items in the room. As you approached it, you quickly found yourself slightly dizzy as the mirror swirled to life with hazy green swirls. A theater mask appeared before you, no face or body attached. It blinked at you and smiled softly as the mirror hummed with life.

“Welcome home, such as it is. This squalid office, these corrupted streets, they are yours now, and are bound to them.”

It was hypnotizing, your body relaxing in the green glow as you stared at the mask before it quickly faded away. You blinked, seeing that the mirror had returned to just that, and Bigby was now standing next to you.

“I never understand the damn thing,” he grunted and looked at you. “Snow isn’t here, probably went out for the rest of the day doing Deputy Mayor shit. I need to do some paperwork on you before we can actually start, come on.”

You were hesitant to leave the office so soon but you figured it wouldn’t be wise to make a bad impression on your first day. You followed him out and back down the office before stopping before another door similar to the Business Office. The same standard door with the same color of frosted glass for the exception of the writing of just his name.

He stilled his hand on the doorknob before looking at you sheepishly.

“I wanna start off by saying that I’m sorry for the mess. I wasn’t expecting to actually get the help I need.”

“Oh, don’t worry. You should see what some of the cubicles look like at my current station.”

“Oh, I know,” he wore a look of disgust, “I smelled the shit the second I stepped into the building.”

“My old station had worse.”

Bigby shuddered, his thoughts now running rampant at just the smells he could conjure up. That was horrifying.

He turned the knob and opened the door, still holding a little bit of embarrassment on his face as you fully saw his office.

It wasn’t bad, but it also wasn’t great either. The walls which probably were painted white originally were now stained yellow probably from his smoking. You spied an extra large ash tray that looked to be from the 70’s when smoking wasn’t yet linked to so many horrors filled to the brim with a tower of snuffed out cigarette butts. There were files everywhere, some opened, most were closed. The file cabinets all sat overstuffed, his desk was covered with mugs of half-drunk coffee, his metal-mesh trash can was filled with dead pens and crumbled up paper balls. His poor office didn’t even have a window to even air out the smell, just a rinky dink fan in the corner.

There was something nailed to the flimsy drywall on the back wall, a plaque in the shape of the typical shield used for law enforcement and military. A gold panel had his name scripted, and underneath commended him for-

Three centuries of service?!

How old was this guy?

Chapter Text

It was like he knew what your eyes zeroed in on. He cleared his throat awkwardly as he scratched at the back of his neck before he cleaned off his desk a bit. He started with the large ashtray, emptying it into another trash can he had squirled away underneath his desk.

“Yeah, I’m old,” he seemingly joked. He was trying to lighten the mood as he scooted papers back into their proper files, clearing off a good piece of his desk so you both could go back and forth filling out paperwork. “We’ve been here since about the same time as the witch trials in Salem. I was made the sheriff by King Cole, especially when most of us saw refuge here in New York.”

“Why New York City of all places? You really didn’t have much privacy back then and you surely don’t now. Have you seen places like Bensenhurst? Everyone knows everyone.”

Bigby shrugged his broad shoulders before he rolled them back, his coat falling down his brawny arms. He tossed the coat carelessly onto the back of his rolling chair that had seen better days.

“It’s where those of us who could get glamorous stayed. Most of us are at The Farm upstate, not like you could go see it. It’s hidden with magic out in some field in the middle of nowhere.”

“Who all lives here? Or at least in this building?”

Bigby sat down on his chair and produced two files, both weren’t filled with a lot of paperwork. He motioned you to sit down in the rinky wooden chair you stood next to.

“A lot of the more ‘popular ones’ Mundies care for.”

“Does that mean you too?”

Bigby stopped scribbling to look at you. He was almost shocked that you said that, the pen nearly falling from him fingers. He cleared his throat and continued writing.

“I guess so. But, to answer your question; Snow, Beauty and Beast, Boy Blue- Ichabod Crane used to live here before he went missing almost forty years ago.” You didn’t miss how Bigby’s brows furrowed in annoyance at bringing up the last name. You didn’t push for more. “But yeah, it’s mostly royalty. I only live here because I work here, if I didn’t, I don’t know where I’d be. Definitely not The Farm.”

“Why’s that?”

You flinched as you asked the question and Bigby noticed. If he cared, he didn’t show it.

“A lot of the Fables at The Farm aren’t fans of… wolves- well, me at least. I did some fucked up shit before we came here.”

“So did a lot of others, but they’re probably treated better, right?” He was taken back by that statement, the pen actually falling out of his hand this time. You really hit the head of the nail straight on. “I’m sorry, I-”

“No,” he cut you off, “no, it’s fine. You’re right.”

“Do they all treat you horribly? Or is it because you’re law enforcement?”

“Both. Honestly, I’m not sure which one people are more upset about anymore.”

Bigby looked over the papers and handed you a pen, pointing at where to sign for him. It was all mostly just liability paperwork with the occasional release and contact forms. One was even a form for medical, that you would temporarily be seen by a Fable doctor called Swineheart. You handed back the files and pen to Bigby when you had finished. He was about to say something when he perked up, opening a drawer from his desk before pulling out a small gun case.

“Here, you’re gonna need this.” He pulled out a standard-issued nine-millimeter handgun that NYPD had you use during training. Bigby handed you the weapon by the nose, but as you eyed his person, you noticed he didn’t have a holster. “I don’t need it, but you will.”

You stood and thanked him softly, taking the gun from him and holstering it at your hip. As Bigby turned to properly file your paperwork, his shoulders squared and he stood up straight. There was a look of annoyance plastered on his face as he eyed his door behind you.

“You okay?”

“Not for long.”

You heard footsteps echoing down the hall, fast and heavy and set in a long stride. Whoever it was, you could sense that they were royally pissed off. You stepped out of the way just in time as the door to Bigby’s office swung open, the door hitting the doorstop and bouncing, revealing a well-dressed man with a sneer on his face. He reeked of expensive cologne, his clothes looked as though they cost more than what you made in a year, his glasses alone must be worth just as much as a car with the precious stones littering down the arms.

“Oh, you’re in. Does nobody want to come to work today?” the man huffed. “Do you have any idea as to where that blasted woman went off to?”

“No, I don’t. And why do you care? We’ve both been busy with trying to keep this place from going under.”

“And what fine work you do, sheriff.” The man quickly noticed you standing off to the side. Just the way he looked you up and down made you want to seize up and vomit. “And I see you have company.”

‘What the fuck crawled up this guy’s ass?’ you wondered as he once again looked you up and down.

The stranger snorted, the laughed, his voice like a cackle you would hear from some awful B-movie.

“So, Snow was serious about this? Bringing in a Mundy cop to help keep the peace? How cute, with the badge and her little gun and all.”

Bigby stood up abruptly from his chair and rounded his desk. Although Bigby was shorter, you knew he could absolutely take the stranger down a level or two without so much as a thought.

“Bluebeard, if Snow shows up, I’ll send her your way. In the meantime- get out.”

“Fine, fine,” Bluebeard feigned innocence, even holding his hands up as a surrender. He turned as started for the door but stopped and glanced at you once again. “Oh, and Officer Mundy, I’d be careful with him. He doesn’t have a good track record with young women.”

And with that, he stalked off down the hallway, his expensive shoes creaking as he hummed a sort of shanty under his breath. You heard Bigby grumble out something under his breath as the phone on his desk suddenly screamed awake. It was one of the old rotary phones where you could take the cradle off the receiver and ignore the calls all day long. Bigby picked up the cradle and placed it to his ear.

“Sheriff’s office,” he grunted out. After about a minute or so, his entire body seized up before he quickly scribbled something down on a post-it note. “We’ll be right over.”

He slapped the cradle back into the receiver before he turning around. He looked worried, it didn’t sit well on his rugged face.

“Everything okay?”

Bigby snatched his coat off the chair and slipped his arms through, ushering you out of the office before he closed the door behind you both. You followed him down the hallway, hot on his heels.

“How did your first day start on the force?”

“Well the world didn’t end, so… It was honestly pretty boring. Why? What rabbit hole am I about to jump down?”

“A pretty fucked up one.”

Chapter Text

It wasn’t like you hadn’t seen a dead body before, but holy shit- this was something else. The second you saw it, you couldn’t help yourself but back up a bit as you tried to use Bigby’s strong frame to shield your eyes from the corpse. You winced away, eyes burning from looking at all of the blood pooled around her on the once-white tiles. They were now stained an odd orangey-brown color, the grout was nearly black as the blood traced along the repeating maze.

Bigby noticed your quick change in demeanor and turned to look at you, completely ignoring the neighbor as she babbled on with the questions of ‘How can someone do this?’ and ‘Who could have done something like this?’. She quickly excused herself, opting to stay just outside of the luxury apartment in the hallway with the door closed. His eyes showed really no emotion, but you can tell that something was pressing against his tongue.

“You okay?” his voice was soft, completely unlike his usual dark and sarcastic tone.

“I-I’m okay,” you nodded.

You balled your hands into fists, trying to control your breathing and ground yourself.

Bigby turned to face you fully, making sure to keep his body between you and the corpse of the floor. His thick eyebrows were pinched together in worry as he looked down at you.

“(Y/n), you don’t have to do this if you can’t handle it.”

Was he actually worried about you? He had just met you a few hours ago and he’s already worried about you like this? It took you so long to finally get your partner to trust and work well with you back in your old station, and Bigby suddenly just says something like this?

“I… I just need a minute.”

Bigby nodded silently before eyeing the body behind him. He looked back at you, asking with his eyes alone if he could move and start investigating to which you nodded. Bigby hesitated for a moment before stepping out of the way.

You winced at the woman’s body, but you didn’t back away again. You stood your ground, eyes locking onto her poor, mangled corpse beneath you.

She looked to be middle-aged - you really couldn’t put a guess to her actual age, especially if Bigby was hundreds of years old - as the wrinkles had settled at the outer corners of her eyes and her smile lines cut deep into her cheeks. Her dark hair had been spilled from her tight, elegant updo, her own blood staining the locks even darker. A permanent look of horror was etched into her painted face, ruby red lips pulled back and her mouth parted into a forever silent scream. Her eyes were glazed over, once blue eyes now were dull and lifeless.

She had passed on her left side, her body had started to roll into it, her right shoulder and arm had started to curl into her more and more. Rigor mortis was fully set in, the poor thing must have been dead for only a few hours yet her body was cold and her blood had gone sticky and dry. Her legs were tangled with one another, one of her very expensive looking heels was missing and her pantyhose was soaking with blood. Her dress was in tatters, especially at her back and chest.

Both you and Bigby had moved to look at her back, being careful as to not step in the pool. You winced at the sight of her mangled back. It looked like something out of some sick B-movie slasher with all of the bloodied wounds on her back. You could spy the faint lilac dots across her pale skin across her left side, liver mortis had also started to settle in.

Fables decayed like humans? - Or, Mundies in their terms. Was it just the Fables that were already human that decayed like this? Or did they all do this?

She had over a dozen stab wounds into her back alone, the blood still looked a little tacky at the puncture spots. You wanted to gag when you noticed how deep the marks went when you saw glimpses of her spin and the back of her ribcage. Hell, one knife wound even went through her spine. You just hoped to yourself that she had expired before she had been paralyzed from her chest down.

The marks on her back look a little odd. They were wide, wider than any normal kitchen knife. They also weren’t thin as if she had been stabbed with something like a swiss army knife. You noticed how one of the sides of the mark looked more torn than the other.

“Was she stabbed with a hunting knife?” you looked at Bigby who was already standing back up.

“Most likely,” he confirmed your suspicions. You stood up, stepping away from her body when Bigby rounded to her front side. “She has a few stab wounds to her chest too, one in her stomach. But it looks weird,” he muttered as he crouched down again.

You stepped around to join him, and you couldn’t help but agree. The wound looked like it had ripped open more of her skin. The fabric around her stomach was also darker than the rest that was covered in blood.

“So she was stabbed in the stomach first-”

“And then started the mess,” Bigby finished your sentence.

It was just then that you realized he was right. You took a look around the kitchen to see that it was in shambles. It looked as though a tornado rolled through a set of some fancy cooking show. The appliances were all imported from Europe with names you couldn’t pronounce if you ever wanted to try. The cabinets were dark with silver handles, most the doors had been opened while the rest were smashed closed with deep cracks into the solid wood. There was a bloody chef’s knife on the floor scattered away from her body with blood on both the tip of the blade and the elegantly carved wooden handle. There was blood everywhere, most of it in splatters and dried bloodied handprints of both the woman and the assailant.

“Holy shit,” you found yourself whispering as you really took in the damage. This poor woman went through so much when it hit you: There are more bodies here. If hers was like this, then what could the others be? “Bigby,” you called as you walked over to the knife.

He followed up behind you, immediately seeing the knife at your feet. He bent down and picked it up where the blade met the handle. You noticed his nostrils flaring for a brief second before he held the knife properly at the handle to inspect the bloodied tip.

“Fingerprints?”

“She was holding the knife.” He sniffed at the blood on the tip of the blade before he sighed softly. “I don’t recognize the smell.” You didn’t know if you should have been confused or worried. Does he know what all Fables smell like? Let alone their blood? He set the knife down on the countertop and walked out of the kitchen. “Let’s go find Mr. Darling.”

Mr. Darling?

It had just occurred to you that Bigby never told you about the crime really, only that it was a dead family found massacred.

“Darling? Like Wendy Darling and Peter Pan?” you questioned as you looked back at the woman on the floor.

“They’re the ones.”

“They’re all dead? Even the kids?” Bigby nodded silently before he walked out of the kitchen and back into the living room. “Shit.”

“What’s worrying me is that they’re not all together.”

You followed Bigby closely as you both searched around the living room and dining room; But you couldn’t find Mr. Darling. You hoisted the couch back into place, checked the broom closet, in the pantry. As you were checking in the bathroom mulling over the thought of asking the neighbor where he could be found, you heard Bigby call for you directly next door to you.

Entering, you saw that it was an office with practically an entire bookshop’s worth of books lining the elegant shelves. Bigby was standing in front of a large, U-shaped desk that could take up the entire size of Bigby’s own office. Papers were scattered all over the plush Persian rug, the pen cup knocked over with fountain pens bleeding onto the carpet. You followed the pool of staining ink as it melded with another pool of blood right below a plush office chair. Your eyes traveled up to see Mr. Darling in the chair, the back to you both.

You gave Bigby a look as you both took to either side of the desk. You winced as you noticed that his necktie had been undone from his collar only to be wrapped around his throat and the neck of the chair, effectively strangling out whatever life could have remained if he lived from his injuries. His heavy-set but was the same as his poor wife’s back: Stabbed at multiple times with the same type of blade. His wounds, however, looked to be more viciously slashed at. It looked like whoever had done this tried to disembowel the poor man.

The stench of blood and the beginnings of decay tore at your nose. You felt your throat tighten up from disgust, your stomach bubbled with nausea.

If the parents were this horribly murdered, how would their children look?

Bigby gave you a knowing look, his face painted with muted worry before he nodded for you to go back into the hallway. It took you a minute to finally peel your eyes away from the sight before you to spin on your heel and walk out, the sheriff now following as you had done before. Once you were both in the hall, Bigby left the office door cracked open and turned to look at you.

“(Y/n), are you sure you can handle this? I’m not gonna be upset if you can’t.”

“I can- I just wasn’t expecting this on my first day here, let alone an entire family slaughtered.”

You both found yourselves looking into each others eyes, but for different reasons. You were trying to ground yourself, to keep yourself calm after witnessing two mangled corpses and were about to see three more. Bigby was only trying to gauge how serious you were when you said you could handle it, worry twisting in his chest like a knife but he didn’t show it well. He could hear your heart hammering away inside of your chest, but he didn’t want to make you feel weak by suggesting something. You were already getting treated differently and you’ve only been working with him for a few hours.

“Why don’t you find the daughter and I’ll look the boys?” he suggested softly.

You nodded and Bigby turned down the hall, starting for the lines of doors before he finally disappeared into one. You slowly creeped down the hall, eyes trained on the doors until you came up to the door on the right with a small door sign hanging from the carved door. ‘Wendy’ was written in curly lettering, pastel pink on a white wooden board with baby blue hearts and flowers. You grasped at the doorknob and entered the room, preparing yourself for the scene to be worse than the last.

Instead, you opened the door to the sight of a normal girl’s bedroom. A basket of toys in the corner, a rather large doll house filled with toy furniture and clothes, bookshelves littered with stuffed animals and odd little knick-knacks, a plush and fluffy rug in the middle of the floor, posters of boy bands were plastered across her wall. In the opposite corner of the room laid a twin bed with a canopy, the soft curtains were drawn closed. The room wasn’t trashed and you couldn’t smell that stench of blood in here, just a soft scent of air freshener that had started to go stale from the plug-in by the door.

You stepped up carefully to the bed, bracing yourself as you pulled back the curtain. Before you, you could tell there was a figure lying perfectly still underneath the drawn sheets. You could make out her outline, she wasn’t moving at all. You gripped the sheet and drew it back, wincing as you were staring at the corpse of a young girl.

She wasn’t bloodied like her parents. No stab wounds, no blood soaking the bed. You spotted dark marks across her throat, too dark to be from liver mortis setting in and too big to be from her own hand. Her lips were opened like she was gasping, her eyes were wide with terror, her hands were curled up as though she was trying to grab something.

The poor thing was strangled to death.

You heard Bigby open the door behind you, his heavy footsteps slowly coming up behind you as he spotted Wendy.

“Strangled,” you reported back to him, eyes glued on her throat.

“The same with her brothers.” You finally looked back at him, eyebrows raised. “Only their parents were butchered.”

“Did you see anything weird in their room?”

“The window was open and the fire escape ladders were drawn.” Bigby eyed at the window in Wendy’s room, noting that it was locked. “There was no other way they could’ve gotten in.”

“Don’t they have a maid or something? Where is she?”

“Nana? I’m not sure. Her room is empty. I didn’t smell her, she probably hasn’t been here at least a week.”

“Do you know who could’ve done this, Bigby?” Bigby stayed quiet, going through the file cabinet in his head as he thought of the possibilities. He didn’t want to rule out Nana, not a chance. “Doesn’t the story - or, I guess, the Mundy story at least - say something about Peter Pan killing the Lost Boys or something so they stay young forever?”

“Mundy version,” Bigby looked over Wendy’s body. “Whatever that headless Walt whoever the fuck said is all just stereotypes and lies to sell the story better.”

You were right to bring up Pan, however. Come to think of it, he hadn’t heard from either him or the Lost Boys in quite a while. It didn’t really make sense, though, but nothing really does anymore.

“What about Captain Hook? Is he around? If Bluebeard is, wouldn’t he?”

That wasn’t a bad guess. He had the motives then, he definitely could have the motives now. If people still judge him from what all he had done in the Homelands, then it would only be fair to do the same with Hook. But this wasn’t really his style; The pirate captain was always over-the-top with how he slew his victims. Why would he just strangle the kids and stab the parents?

Something was missing, and Bigby felt like he was staring it right in the face.

“We should head back. Snow should be back in the office by now and we need to arrange them all to be moved.”

Bigby fished in his pocket and took out his carton of cigarettes and lighter. He tapped at the bottom of the carton, nudging one cigarette out from the rest and took it between his teeth. He offered you one out of reflex and you shook your head before he pocketed the carton. He held off on lighting the cigarette, motioning with his head to follow him out so he could light it outside, or in the hallway at the very least.

As you followed behind Bigby, you both entered the living room and headed for the door. Bigby reached for the handle, already hearing the neighbor no longer squawking and worrying, she most likely retreated back to her own apartment when you stepped on something small and hard. You pulled away, seeing a glitter of gold against the carpet and reached over to pick it up.

It was a gold cufflink, now slightly dented from where you accidentally stepped on it. The outer crest was in the shape of a diamond, a hook was etched into the pure gold.

“Hey, Bigby,” you called.

The sheriff stopped in his tracks and looked behind him, eyes zeroing in on the cufflink in your hand. He held out his hand so you could deposit it into his hand. His eyes widened before he scoffed, pocketing the cufflink.

“You were right. C’mon.”

You made sure to lock the apartment behind you as Bigby called for the elevator. The ride down was silent until you both had turned to each other.

“Good job-”

“Do you think-”

You both had stopped talking as you cut each other off.

“I’m sorry, go ahead,” Bigby gnawed at the butt of the cigarette in his mouth.

“No, it’s fine!”

“No, I cut you off.”

“I was just gonna ask… Do you think Hook worked alone? He’s a pirate, right? Wouldn’t he be, I don’t know, more brutal?”

“That’s what I don’t get either.” Bigby looked away for a moment before he glanced at you. “Good job with this. I probably wouldn’t have noticed that.”

“I didn’t do anything, Bigby.”

“This isn’t nothing,” Bigby stated firmly as he pulled out the cufflink. It looked so small in his large hand. “You just saved us both a lot of time.”

You couldn’t help the heat that spread to your cheeks at his praise. If he was just saying this to make you feel better, you didn’t care.

“Thank you.”

The elevator came to a stop and peeled open to the ornate lobby again. You followed Bigby out and to the street.

“Why don’t you go home for the day? I think you need it after what you just saw in there.”

You mulled over his words. You were still a little shaken up, but you would feel bad if you just left. You didn’t want Bigby to think less of you.

“Are you sure?”

“Look, I promise, I will call you if anything at all comes up.”

“Okay, Bigby.”

Chapter Text

You awoke to the sound of your phone blaring rather early in the morning. Unscrewing your exhausted eyes, you peeked through the darkness of your room at your alarm clock which told you that it was too early for this shit before you felt around on your bed for your phone. Idly slapping your hand around your comforter, your fingers quickly found the chiming piece of damned technology and spun it around to face you only to get flash banged by how fucking bright you had left your screen. You didn’t pay attention to who was called at this ungodly hour, only swiping to answer and making an annoyed noise as your hello.

“You need to come in,” a gruff voice stated firmly from the other end of the line.

It took you a second for your brain to finally wake up, your eyes fluttering open finally as you put the pieces together. Bigby was on the line. He kept his voice low as he knew he would be waking you up this early, way before your morning alarms. The sun wasn’t even peeking through your windows just yet, the sky however was starting to turn grey as the sun started its slow ascent.

“What’s going on?” you yawned.

You rubbed a hand over your eyes, wiping the sleep from them as you threw back your comforter. As you threw your legs off of the side of the bed, you could hear something coming from Bigby’s end of the line. It sounded like bickering followed by something heavy being slammed. The sound rang in your head painfully, your temples throbbing.

“I got Hook, but I need your help. Get here when you can- Hey!” Bigby shouted before he ended the line.

Before you got the dial tone, you heard two men yelling at each but you couldn’t make out what was being said.

You got dressed as quickly as you could and got out of the door within a few minutes. You didn’t have time to shower let alone bathe away the sweat that had balmed up on your skin throughout the hot night. If it was urgent, you knew Bigby wouldn’t be very happy to know you wasted time washing when there was something important to be done. You nearly forgot your holster and gun, managing to snatch that along with your keys before the door slammed shut behind you. You adjusted your holster in the elevator and shucked on your jacket when a thought struck you.

Was Bigby up all night trying to catch Hook?

Did he really not sleep when he sent you home to rest yourself? Did he even need sleep? The bags under his eyes said he did and just hadn’t been getting it.

Hailing a cab on the street, you sat in the back of the car and stared at your legs in deep thought. Your hands gripped gently at the worn leather seat, your nails scratched lightly at a particularly worn spot in the leather.

If he had been awake all night while you were asleep, you would feel awful. And if he got into a fight with Hook to take him in? You would feel even worse! Your stomach rumbled with uncertainty and your chest tightened with worry.

The taxi came to a stop sooner than you expected, completely forgetting that it was barely six in the morning and the sun had yet to peek through the rows of skyscrapers and apartment buildings. You paid the driver but jumped when your door opened, a short gasp leaving you as you whipped your head towards it.

It was Bigby who gave you an odd look at how you reacted. He looked exhausted, the dark circles around his eyes looked even darker. He didn’t sleep, that fucker. He had a cigarette clamped between his sharp teeth, puffing the smoke out downstream of the wind so he didn’t blow any your way. You got out of the taxi as Bigby closed the door behind you. You noticed how he kind of hid his spare hand, keeping it fully tucked into his pocket when he would normally have his thumb hooked out. Was it bruised? Were his knuckles raw and bloodied?

You both walked nearly in sync, Bigby’s longer legs outpacing yours as you both trekked up to The Woodlands.

“Did you get any sleep?” you quipped at him.

Bigby glanced at you, almost sheepishly ironically before he looked back at the door.

“Started to, then I got a call.”

That made you feel even worse. He was finally about to get some shut-eye after what looked to be days of exhaustion only to be ripped awake by a fucking phone call.

Bigby pulled the door open for you once again and trailed in behind you. You started to go towards the elevators when Bigby grunted. Giving him a questionable look, he nodded his head to the stairwell at the end of the short hallway towards the back of the main floor. As you watched him walk, you noticed a very slight limp in his step.

“Did you get hurt?” you pressed.

“I’ll be fine.”

“You’ll be- You did? What the hell happened?”

You both descended the stairs and passed through a rickety old door. It was obvious that wherever you now were had not been as lucky as the main floor when it came to… decor? You shivered, unease settling over you like a weighted blanket. This place looked like a fucking dungeon. It was old and decrepit, it reeked of mildew and years-old rot. There were cobwebs caked all across the ceiling and in the corners and it wasn’t very well lit. The light coming from Bigby’s cigarette was the brightest thing in this place. The stone brick walls were lined doors; Some were made of wood, some with metal bars, and some were straight-up walls of hardened steel.

What the hell was this place?

“I got a call a few hours I had you go home,” Bigby puffed out a cloud of smoke. “Was told someone was causing a disturbance down at a club so I went down.” It was as if he knew you were about to bicker at him that he should have called you as he stopped walking and turned on his heel to look at you with your mouth about to open. “And I didn’t call you because I didn’t think I would find Hook being the one who was causing trouble.”

“What was he doing?”

Bigby started walking again towards a door that was opened with the lights on inside.

“He was a drunken mess when I showed up. When he saw me, he got physical.”

“And what did you do?”

Bigby stubbed out his now dull cigarette on the back of his heel and puffed out the last bit of smoke as he looked at you.

“I got physical back.”

He finally took out his other hand from his pocket to crack his knuckles. And just as you figured, they were bloodied and bruised from socking the shit out of Hook.

A sudden slam of something heavy followed by a shout rang out from the room causing you both to rush towards it. You heard two men once again shouting at each other, one obviously drunk and one not.

Bigby threw open the door, the door smacking against the stone wall enough to make the dust fly off. You stepped in after him only to see that guy from yesterday standing before a man handcuffed to a chair. Bluebeard, if you remembered right, glanced over the shoulder of his expensive-looking vest only for his eyes to narrow behind his glasses at the sight of you both. He was rubbing his fist, thumbing over his knuckles that were now pink from punching the other guy in the room.

“It’s about time you came back,” he sneered at Bigby. His eyes looked right into yours and you couldn’t help but want to shrink back behind Bigby. “And I see Officer Mundy is here now, too.”

“I told you not to do anything until she came,” Bigby snarled.

There was a dangerous growl in his voice. His broad shoulders squared and his large hands balled up into fists so tightly you could hear faint popping coming from within.

“Oh please, Hook and I were just catching up on old times. It’s been decades since I last spoke with another pirate,” he turned to Hook and got in his face, “even longer for a successful one.”

“That’s enough,” Bigby stated firmly.

He clapped a hand on Bluebeard’s shoulder and pushed him out of the way. Bluebeard scoffed and eyed you as you remained in the doorway. His gaze went south to the holster attached to your hip, his eyes landing on the gun Bigby had given you. He chuckled darkly at the sight of it.

“How cute. Did he give you that?”

“Yeah. What about it?” you snipped at him.

Just speaking to him made you want to vomit. He made you so uncomfortable.

“As if something like that would work, especially against Bigby here.” Bigby’s brows arched and Hook gazed drunkenly between the three of you through his non-bruised eye. “You do know the real reason that you’re here, no? It’s to keep this one in line. The last time something like this happened, Bigby was off the leash the entire case. They figured that bringing in a Mundy cop would leash the dog up well but judging by the looks of his hands, your K-9 is already disobeying.”

“Like you’re any better,” Hook finally piped up.

You took a good look at the man before you, thin and slumped over in the chair, not even fighting his restraints. His hair was oily and pitch black, his left eye was bruised and started to swell up into a horrible shiner, his nose was horribly bruised as dried blood crusted under both his nostrils. His clothes were dirty but they looked expensive- or at least, they were cheap clothes sold at an expensive price. His shirt had been opened up by the top few buttons showing off tattoos of stuff you really couldn’t make out besides a topless mermaid and some pirate flag. He was missing one of his dress shoes and his jacket was torn a bit at the left cuff where his mechanical hand sat motionless. Your eyes zeroed in on the right cuff, noting that he had the other matching cufflink fashioned around his wrist.

He looked up at you with his olive-green eyes the best he could. His gaze made you feel unsafe as well, but it wasn’t as bad as Bluebeard’s.

“What can you tell me about the Darlings?” you asked him firmly.

“Good luck getting answers from this drunk,” Bluebeard barked out a laugh. “I’ve been trying the entire time your K-9 has been gone to get you and he hasn’t made a peep.”

“Why are you even here if you’re not going to be helpful?” you snapped back.

Bluebeard gave you a look but Bigby made his presence known again before he could even think of doing anything to you.

“Fine then. You’re the real cop here, Officer.”

Bigby gave you a look over his shoulder, almost as if he were asking you if you want Bluebeard to stay. You shook your head slightly, giving Bigby the go-ahead to grab the man and force him out of the cell. You watched it happen, quickly spotting the missing cufflink on the counter by the door. You picked it up as you heard Bluebeard scoff and start back into the dungeon, muttering something about Snow White and King Cole under his breath the entire time.

“I like this one Bigby,” Hook hiccuped as he eyed you up and down. “You should keep her.”

“I’m not gonna ask again. What can you tell me about the Darlings?” you repeated.

“Bah,” Hook scoffed, “I haven’t seen them since we all came here centuries ago.”

You held out the cufflink in front of him.

“Then why we did find your missing cufflink at the scene of the crime?”

Hook scoffed and leaned back into the chair, his back slouching. He eyed the cufflink in your hand warily.

“I’ve been missing that cufflink for days now.”

“Then why wear the other one?”

Hook stumbled over his words and hiccuped again. He refused to answer at first, avoiding both yours and Bigby’s eyes.

“You’re already in for assaulting an officer and resisting arrest,” Bigby piped up. “You wanna tack on more charges and risk being thrown down the witching well, be my guest.”

“They… they were supposed to give it back to me tonight.”

“Who?” you drew the cufflink back to you.

“Peter’s little army,” Hook sneered. “Those ingrates, the lost boys! These cufflinks are almost all I have left of my life from the Homelands.”

“Why would they have your missing cufflink?”

“I was at their club a few nights ago. It,” the pirate sighed, “was not my finest hour I must admit.” He quickly glared at the both of you. “The big one, he riled me up on purpose! The six of them all ganged up on me!”

You looked at Bigby who was already looking at you.

“You know where he’s talking about?”

Evidently, Bigby knew exactly where he was talking about as it was just down the block of where Bigby had gotten the call about Hook. As you both stepped out of the back of the cab not even twenty minutes later, your eyes landed on a club that was actually just now closing for the night. Drunks either stumbled down the street or tried to hail cabs while streetwalkers passed you both by in their high heels. Bigby gave you a look, asking you with his eyes once again if you really wanted to do this.

The pulsing music finally cut off from inside of the club as the bouncer out front was speaking rather rudely on the phone to someone, his burly back to you both completely unaware of your presence.

“Let’s go.”

Chapter Text

He didn’t want to bring you along.

It was the last thing he would ever want to do, but his hands were tied. He couldn’t risk defying yet another order from King Cole or else he’d risk it all just to keep a Mundy safe.

That’s all you were: A Mundy cop. A human.

Regret clawed at Bigby’s gut in the back of the cab as the damned thing came to a stop in front of the aforementioned club. He was about to tell the cab driver to take you back to your apartment when you had already gotten out, and when you closed the door behind you it practically sealed your fates for the morning.

As you both stood before the club, he felt… something.

He couldn’t put his finger on it. Was it an emotion? Was it his body still trying to quickly heal from his little brawl with Hook a few hours ago? He remembers feeling like this before, but not for many moons. It was like his organs were being squeezed in a vice-like grip, twisting and knotting between two strong hands as his heart beat wildly against his ribcage.

He didn’t like this feeling.

And he especially didn’t like the look of the club before you both.

It was obvious that it was shutting down for the night despite the sun slowly rising over the towering skyscrapers as the bustling city started to come to life. Men started to file out randomly from the front door, heads hung low and rumpled collars drawn up high to obscure their faces for at least a few blocks before they were in the clear. He recognized some of the men just by scent alone, Fables he had met once upon a time when they all fled here.

The bright neon sign suddenly flicked off, signaling that it was really the end of the graveyard shift. Bigby gave the sign an unamused look: ‘The Hungman.’

He briefly wondered if Peter still owned the building before you gently nudged Bigby’s trim side with your elbow to get his attention before nodding towards the door. He jumped at the contact, not used to being touched at all besides getting the shit beat out of him, especially with it being so gentle. Would it be wrong for him to like that? He felt his heart beating louder inside of him, his blood suddenly running like molten lead in his veins.

He needed to play it cool.

This was wrong. He can’t do this. He can’t do this to you.

He turned his attention towards the bouncer with his broad back turned to the two of you, his phone cradled between a burly shoulder and his ear as he spoke rudely over the phone.

He didn’t like the sudden feeling he had growing in his gut.

You had made for the bouncer, about to question him about your suspects like you were trained to do when Bigby grasped at your arm. You felt awful when you felt the butterflies in your stomach flutter and dance around, but it kind of felt amazing having him gripping you. You turned to look at him, praying your cheeks weren’t lit aflame when he shook his head softly. You wanted to pout when he released your arm and made for the door. He managed to catch it behind a man who had just left, sticking the toe of his dress shoe between the door and the frame quickly before he nodded for you to follow. You kept your eyes pinned to the back of the bouncer’s head, watching carefully just in case he spotted you but he was busy being an asshole over the phone to notice.

The door shut quietly behind you, leaving you both alone in a short hallway where the lights were dimmed and soft music played from the speakers overhead.

“What kind of club calls itself ‘The Hungman’?” you whispered to Bigby.

The sheriff bit at his upper lip to keep himself from laughing.

“This is - or at least was - Peter’s club.”

“Peter Pan?”

“Yeah. He hasn’t been around here in ages though, so his lost boys took it over.”

A rile of laughter echoed down the hallway followed by the music changing to something more grating. You were still fighting off the feelings of exhaustion that tugged at your eyes and the music did nothing more than make your temples pound and your skull to hurt.

Bigby started walking and you made to sure to follow close behind. There was a cutout at the end of the hallway that led to the actual strip club. It was similar to the few you had to go to for cases, mostly dealing with missing prostitutes or drug trafficking, but never a murder case. Until now, that is. It had the stage to your left surrounded by two rows of booths on different levels, the stage was decked out with a pole and curtains and even a booth for music. To your right was a bar fully stocked with liquors you would normally see at a bar along with some bottles you had to guess belonged to Fables. In between were rickety old tables with chairs needing to be tucked back in, and along the back wall laid a few dug in booths, one of which was occupied.

Four men sat facing each other, completely oblivious to you both standing there right under the archway. They were laughing, bottles of half drunk beer from a company you didn’t recognize before them along with stacks of bills they were going through and making smaller piles - probably to pay the strippers for the night if you had to take a guess. Rattling over at the bar had you glancing there once again. A very large man stood up from behind the bar with empty alcohol bottles in his massive hands. He wasn’t paying attention at first, but quickly looked over when he finally realized that they weren’t alone anymore. His eyes widened a bit at the sight of you both, mostly at Bigby before a lazy grin fell on his face.

“Sheriff Bigby,” he slurred, “never expected to see you here.”

He was obviously drunk, you wouldn’t be surprised if he had finished off the last of those bottles he was setting onto the barback when the services finished for the night.

At his words, the other four men in the booth shot their heads up and looked over with wide eyes. The money stopped getting counted, one of them almost let their beer bottle slip from their hand.

“With a mundy, no doubt, too,” one of the men scoffed from the booth.

“So the rumors are true then?” another smirked like a creep. “Bigby needs a mundy cop to keep him on a leash?”

It didn’t surprise you that news would spread this fast. Not only was this New York City where everyone knew everyone else’s business - even more so in some boroughs - but this was also a close-knit community of people that have known each other and their shit for centuries on end.

“We’re just here to ask you all some questions,” you stated firmly, aiming to get back on track and then get the hell out of dodge.

“What kind of questions, mundy girl?” the large one hiccuped as he slowly rounded the bar.

“Was Captain Hook here a few nights ago causing a disturbance?”

The men at the booth all suddenly got up and exited out onto the floor in front of you. You didn’t like the feeling that bubbled in the pit of your stomach, it was like a cauldron boiling something evil and icy. Bigby took a half step forward, almost like he was protecting you from them. His glare was something dangerous as he made sure to keep an eye on all five of them in case they started something they’d regret.

“And what if he was?” the one with buck teeth and lanky limbs piped up.

“He said that you all assaulted him and took some of his property. Is that true?”

“And what if it is?” the two men who appeared to be twins piped up at the same time.

“This have something to do with those murders?” the one with buck teeth asked in a condescending tone. Your eyes widened at that one, the men only snickered at your expression. “Talk o’ the whole town. Their little neighbor wouldn’t stop squawking about it. And you’re here wasting your time on us.”

“You took something of his that ended up at the scene of the crime,” Bigby stepped in. “You can all either answer the fucking questions or I’ll take you all in for murder and throw you all down the witching well myself.”

“Woah, woah, we didn’t do fucking anything,” the shorter of the bunch spat.

They were all getting agitated. You felt unsafe, unconsciously tucking yourself behind Bigby a bit as you didn’t know what to expect when it came to facing against fables, especially so many at once. Would Bigby even be able to handle this by himself?

“You come into our club and start throwing out this kind of bullshit?” the buck tooth one came closer to the both of you.

“You need to back the fuck up,” Bigby took a heavy step forward.

“No, what we need is for you both to get the fuck out of our club, you fucking mutt. Take your little mundy whore and get o-”

Bigby shut him up with a swift punch to the nose, the man stumbling back as he clutched at his bleeding face.

That started it.

The rest all lunged at the two of you. You were quickly shoved back by the smaller fable, barely dodging his punch when you delivered a swift smack across his oily face. He was taken back by it, his cheek already showing the red handprint starting to form when he suddenly snatched at your person. You yelled, you struggled against him, managing to punch him right in the sternum causing him to drop you and clutch at his body. You were about to push him away when he lunged again, socking you right in the cheek before he suddenly lifted you up and threw you. Your body collided with the flat top of one of the tables before you slid off completely, the table and chairs falling over and clattering to the ground.

You landed on your back. Hard.

You wheezed as the wind was knocked completely out of you, your back seizing and your tailbone crying in pain as your nerves felt like they were being shocked. Your vision went a little hazy, swaying slightly as your vision blurred on the sides.

You heard an odd noise through the muffle in your ear and over the blaring music, it sounded something like an animal snarling mixed with something more monstrous. You tried to sit up, only managing to prop yourself up on your elbows before the pain in your back shot right through you, a short cry cut off from your mouth as you gasped at the feeling.

You suddenly heard the five other men shouting only to be followed by the sudden smashing of glass and crackling of breaking wood. You managed to crane your head up, drowsy eyes finally cracking open to see the smaller of the five hit the ground all beaten and bleeding.

Bigby was surrounded by the rest, his broad back to you. His hands were balled into fists, his knuckles broken open and bleeding, his forearms and biceps flexing as he panted like a wild animal. You almost didn’t notice how his arms looked fuller, and how they looked… hairier? His fists slowly uncurled and your eyes widened at the sight of long, black claws adorning his fingertips where his nails should’ve been.

The men around him had looks muddled fear and anger painted across their faces, especially the big drunk one.

They all went at Bigby one after another, hands balled into fists or holding a shattered beer bottle or two. The way Bigby moved made it seem like his clothes were suddenly too tight on his despite his usual dress shirt and slacks normally looking like they would fall off his person if he lost any more weight. Brawny muscles bulged as he fought them all off at the same time.

Sinking his claws into the smallest one of the lot, he hoisted him up and slammed him down onto the floor, his claws sinking in deep and drawing blood. He didn’t let go, however, and hoisted him up again only to slam him even harder against the dull carpet causing the wood underneath to crack violently. He was about to do it again when the lanky one grappled at his back and yanked him away.

He instead latched onto the poor fool and swung him off, colliding with the twins as the large one socked Bigby across the jaw before Bigby gave him the same treatment back. He stumbled backwards, heavy footfalls shaking the entire floor through the carpet. It was a shock he didn’t just tip over and crash onto the floor with how drunk he already was. Instead, he wiped the blood that had started to dribble from his now very broken nose and swung again at Bigby only to miss this time. Bigby retaliated, slashing at the big guy with his claws and sliced right into his chest.

You had managed to pull yourself back from the carnage but you didn’t get far when your back suddenly seized with pain again. You managed to crawl backwards until your reached the wall and somehow found the strength to sit up against it when you saw the last one fall.

Bigby snarled at the five men lying in a strewn out heap across the strip club’s floor, his eyes glowing a dangerous shade of yellow that cut through the blue tone the lights gave off. He was huffing and puffing like a beast, clawed fingers flexing and his chest heaving as though he just sprinted a full marathon. It took him a minute to finally calm down when he realized you were looking right at him.

He looked ashamed of himself, his brawny shoulders slouching in shame as his eyes widened and were almost mournful. He lost control in front of a mundy, in front of you. You couldn’t imagine the horrible thoughts that were racing through his mind.

Seeing him like this made you wonder what else he was capable of.

Chapter Text

To say things were tense would be a horrible understatement.

The cab was silent, the driver kept his lips sealed after you had given him the address to the Woodlands as though he already knew why things were so strained. You felt like you were suffocating just sitting there in the backseat with him barely two feet to your left. He hadn’t said a single word to you, most likely afraid of what you might do- what you might say. He was nearly pressed up against the side of the door, brawny arms tucked, hands limp in his lap, eyes trained to look out of the window at the city passing by. He was almost still enough for pigeons to mistake him for a statue had it not had been for his knee bouncing ever so lightly, most likely afraid to shake the cavity of the cab and draw even more attention to himself.

That’s the last thing he needs right now.

You could see his hands, you could see those knuckles and nails. His knuckles were all scratched and busted open but shockingly sealed up to be light scabs, the bruising just made them look more worse for wear. His nails still had blood underneath, all crusty and dusty and needing a good long wash. It was odd to you, obviously never seeing a werewolf in real life before, that just maybe ten minutes ago those pale nails of his were just long black claws. The rest of his person was in nearly the same state as his knuckles, blood speckling the bottom hem, but he had solved that issue by tucking the loose ends into his dark slacks- though you could still spot a few little drops here and there just peeking over his belt. His tie was missing, his collar was completely rumpled and needed to be pressed again, and the top few buttons he kept closed were torn open to reveal his chest.

It felt wrong looking at his chest, heat pooling in your cheeks- from embarrassment or something a schoolgirl would feel, you couldn’t tell - and looked away, staring out your side of the cab’s windows.

Your mind was wandering; whether you let it or not, you knew it would round back to the same question: Are you really the right person for this? With how things just went down, does Bigby still want you around? You’re only here to “keep him on a leash” as Bluebeard had stated, but what all could you do with something like this?

Instead of numbing your mind with the thoughts of doubts, you instead picked at a loose stitch in the backseat of the cab, messing with it using your nail when you realized you too had blood under your nails. You tried to pick it out only to be jerked out of your haze when the cab driver stopped short and announced that you had arrived.

You exited first, Bigby only getting out when you were already closing the door. He kept his gaze low and fished in his pocket for his pack of cigarettes and his metal lighter. He lit it effortlessly as you both passed through the brassy gates of the Woodlands before heading inside. He grunted softly when you held the gate door open for him, busying himself on shoving both things back in his pockets, not that you minded the missing words. You thanked him back when he held the door open for you, the sheriff looking away, eyes still holding shame as he avoided looking at you.

The lobby was still the same lobby, nothing much had changed besides the doorman sleeping in a different position; Slumped over onto his desk where he had knocked down a cup of pens long ago, the mess getting all over the keyboard and floor.

Bigby walked past you and hit the call button for the elevator as you debated on picking up the mess when the chime summoned you.

The elevator ride was just as tense if not more than the cab. At least with the cab, there was a dull hum of the engine and the not so faint noises of Manhattan to fill in the void. In here, it was just the stale buzzing noise of the elevator and the clunking of old and probably rusted gears carrying this death trap up a few floors. That and Bigby’s breathing.

‘Say something,’ your mind chided.

You probably should. It’s not like it was his fault that it happened. You both were being attacked and you went down. It was two versing five, you’re human going against Fables. You couldn’t blame him. Besides, he was probably thinking some awful things right now if how he reacted to you nailing the tense vibes on the head your very first hour of being here proved anything.

“Hey Big-”

“I’m so-”

You both found yourselves staring at each other, eyes wide and mouths a little agape. The tension became a little more bearable. He seemed more apologetic, blowing smoke away from you and tapping the ashes off.

“You go ahead,” he offered.

“You can go,” you countered back.

“No, no,” Bigby shook his head a bit. “I interrupted you, I’m sorry.”

For someone who’s made out to be the villain in all of these scenarios, he was really acting like a gentleman. It made your stomach feel light.

“I was gonna ask if you’re alright.” Bigby didn’t answer, but he kept his eyes locked on yours. “I know you’re not supposed to do that, right? That’s the whole reason why I’m here; So you don’t werewolf out?”

“Yeah,” he stated begrudgingly.

“I don’t blame you, and I’m not scared of you if that’s what you’re worrying about. It was a shock to see it, yeah, you only ever see werewolves in movies or whatever, but I know why it happened.”

Bigby puffed out another cloud just as the elevator came to a stop. He had an unreadable expression as he left the elevator. You followed quickly behind him, keeping pace with him as best as you could.

“I’m not supposed to do that. Do you know how many years I’ve been like this? I shouldn’t lose control like that, especially after what happened the last time.” He stopped walking for a second, nearly startling you as you came close to colliding with his back. He turned to face you, cigarette now between his fingers as he looked down at you with eyes full of remorse. “I’m sorry you had to see me like that. And I’m sorry I dragged you into all of this.”

You shrugged your shoulders.

“I signed up for this.”

“You signed up without knowing you’re gonna be tethered to me; and I’m a goddamn walking trap for trouble.”

“I still signed up for this, I don’t plan on quitting anytime soon.”

He was taken back by that, shoulders slouching a bit. He took another drag on his cigarette before nodding behind him.

“C’mon, I don’t wanna keep Snow waiting. It’ll only make my ass reaming worse.”

He started back down the hall to where the Business Office was. You felt both a little hopeful and pretty standoffish. From what you heard about her, Snow seemed to be the only other voice of reason around here. But if she was going to reprimand Bigby for what happened, you would feel a bit bad about it all. Bigby opened the door to the office and held it open for you before he let it swing closed behind you.

Almost immediately you heard the faint clicking of heels on the polished floors.

“Bigby?” a woman called out. “Bigby is that you?”

“Yeah,” he chuffed out blankly as he took another drag of his cigarette.

You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of seeing this place. You stared around in awe once again, completely distracted by all of the magic going on. You caught sight of that green monkey Bigby mentioned, the little guy flying around with a bottle in his hands, perching himself in the rafters.

“So, how did it go?” her voice called from beyond the bookshelves. You spotted her stepping out just as Bigby walked up to what looked to be her desk. “Judging by your hands, I don’t think they gave you the answers peacefully.”

She was very beautiful. Tall and slender, it was no wonder she was a princess who started an entire industry for you humans. Her hair was as black as coal, her lips were blushed red almost like a rose, and her skin was unblemished and pale like snow. She wore a simple navy blue blazer with a matching pencil skirt with a light gray blouse underneath, and her hair was tucked back in a low bun.

“Not at all.”

“Do you mind putting out the cigarette, Bigby?” she chided like an exhausted mother. “Flycatcher just polished the floors.” She pushed forward an ashtray, manicured nails shined from the expensive-looking polish she wore. “I take it you didn’t get any good answers out of them?”

“They said they didn’t do.”

“Typical,” she rolled her eyes. She was busy going through her desk, messing around with papers and such. “Nothing of interest, I assume?”

“No. But (Y/n) tried asking questions before shit hit the fan.”

Snow stopped her rummaging and cocked a questioning brow.

“(Y/n)?” She suddenly bolted up, eyes wide as she finally looked over at you. “I’m so sorry!” she gasped as she hurried over to you. “Things have been so hectic around here, I’m so sorry I didn’t notice you.” She took your hand and shook it firmly. “Snow White, Deputy Mayor of Fabletown,” she introduced herself.

“(Y/n) (L/n), NYPD.”

A chirping noise came from her wrist and upon pushing her sleeve up, she scoffed at the expensive looking watch she wore.

“I’m sorry to cut things short, but I have to take this.” She shuffled around in a few more drawers of her desk before pulling out a thin folder. “I got a call from someone, I don’t know who, but there’s a male Fable that was causing trouble last night. I took down what I could, but they hung up pretty quick,” she handed the folder to Bigby. She looked to you again and offered to shake your hand once more, and you did. “It was great to meet you, and I’m sorry it’s been a rocky start to things. Hopefully, we can catch up soon.”

And with that, she was off, hurrying out the front door of the Business Office as fast as she could in her heels. You looked back at Bigby who was looking through the folder. You looked around a bit more, eyes wandering over to a small table by the near bookshelves when you noticed it had books opened regarding pirates and Neverland as well as some books seemingly used to keep track of the Fables around here.

You walked over, marveling at the books. The book on pirates was opened to Captain Hook, but he only had two pages to himself compared to the other pirates, and one page was nothing but an intricate drawing of him and his ship.

The book on Neverland was opened to Peter Pan’s little makeshift abode in The Hangman’s Tree when you noticed something obvious staring you right in the face.

“Hey, Bigby,” you called. He made a noise as he kept reading. “Can you come over here?”

You heard his heavy footfalls start to come closer to you as you kept your eyes pinned to the eight heads on the pages. He stopped right beside you and looked over at what you were staring at.

“What’s wrong?”

“How many lost boys are there?”

Bigby closed the folder in his hand and stayed quiet for a minute in serious thought when it suddenly dawned on him as well. He looked down at exactly who was missing, the blond kid in the fox clothing with that stupid smug grin on his face like he was already mocking you both.

“Fuck,” was all Bigby grit out. “I knew something was fucking wrong.”

“What are we gonna do?”

“I’m gonna go back to that fucking club and get some answers,” Bigby tossed the file onto the table. “Stay here, I’ll be back.”

You stopped in your tracks, eyes wide as you were taken back by his choice of words.

“Excuse me?”