Smother ━━ Killian Jones [Discontinued]

twenty seven; nowhere woman

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TWENTY-SEVEN; NOWHERE WOMAN

     Like any other completely flaccid day in Storybrooke, Sage McCartney woke up to the smell of coffee in the kitchen and a dozen bluebirds singing outside the loft window. She forced herself to sit up from her bed, slip her cold feet into her furry slippers, and walk down the wooden stairs. Her roommate, Mary Margaret Blanchard, was humming under her breath and gracefully walking in the kitchen. A mug of coffee and a cup of tea were placed on the counter, like always, with slices of whole wheat toast waiting for her. Upon arrival, the pixie-haired woman smiled brightly at the sight of her yawning best friend.

     "Sleep well?"

     "As per usual." mumbled Sage, wiping the sleep out of her eyes and quietly thanking her roommate as she picked up her cup of tea. She took a timid seep and immediately felt that familiar warmth throughout her body, gradually easing her out of the previous night's rest.

     Mary Margaret frowned, "Still not sleeping?"

    "It's off and on." She replied, rubbing her forehead, "One minute, I'm practically asleep the minute I touch the bed and the next I'm tossing, and turning for the rest of the night. Sometimes I don't even fall asleep."

    "Maybe you should visit Dr. Hopper." The sympathetic teacher suggested, twirling her silver spoon in the creamed coffee, "You could sit down and talk. He could probably prescribe you some medication."

     Sage scrunched up her nose and chuckled, "I'll skip the therapy sessions, Mother Teresa. Thanks for the advice though. I'd better get ready for work. Graham wants to start doing morning patrols around the town."

     A sly smirk twitched on the corners of her pale lips, "So ― he wants you two to spend more time together. All alone in a sheriff's cop car."

    The sleepy brunette hastily grabbed her toast and twisted around, before reaching the stairs, grinning widely, "It's not like that. We're coworkers, we have been since God knows how long. It's completely professional between us. It will always stay the way."

     "Only time will tell." Mary Margaret said in a sing-song manner, refusing to meet her roommates' eyes, but still possessing that same beaming expression. "Enjoy your time with you roguish officer, Deputy McCartney."

     "I will, thank you very much!" She continued as she walked up the stairs. As quickly as she could, Sage undressed from her pajamas and put on a purple-black plaid shirt with ebony skinny jeans. She clasped on the deputy badge onto the waistline of her pants. Whenever the words of the woman down below echoed in her head, a bashful smile and a faint blush would tint her face.

     She would be lying to herself, and her conscience, if she said there were no lingering feelings directed towards her boss. Ever since she arrived in Storybrooke ― that being seemingly years ago, she can't even remember ― there's been something pulling her towards him. Perhaps her feelings were reciprocated in some way, or at least she hoped.

     (There was a string tied to her though; a rope, a shackle, a chain preventing her from moving forward. It holding her back, curling around her throat and lashing her back if she even tried to take a goddamn step forward. She was scared. Of what? Falling in love, being rejected, being abandoned, being not good enough, who would want her after everything ― why did she feel this way? Nothing throughout the course of her life happened to make her feel these things. Or maybe something did happen? Why couldn't she remember? There were blemishes in her memory, blockages in her brain. There were no specifics. Why was she like this? What happened ― ?)