*This takes place exactly after the intro of episode two of the game, right before Snow & Bigby enter the Business Office.*

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"I'M NOT YOURS TO LOSE!"

And with that followed their mutual old friend's ritualistic hobby of crashing the party just in the nick of time.

Silence

Perfectly timing itself at a crucial moment in their arguments with such graceful theatrics, you could tell its arrival from a mile away yet still be taken by surprise. As beautiful and precise as a clocks mechanism and as annoying and unwelcome as periods.

Lovely silence

And she always suffers through it.

Yes, she and she alone.

Because he's never bothered by silence.

Uncomfortable or relaxing never made a difference to him.

The list of the things that doesn't bother him is so long, it went from concerning to downright horrifying.

And the list of things that do bother him is….interesting. For the lack of a better word.

And it looks like this is one of them.

Because he doesn't stare into some random space in the room and contemplate what to say for seconds that feel like hours or derail the whole thing by saying something sarcastically out of pocket, like he always does.

This time he's looking right into her eyes.

His expression serious.

A shiver goes down her spine.

But she gives no reaction.

The last time he looked at her like that was centuries ago.

Yet she still remembers everything.

The large cave, the sea of bones, the stone golems, a terrified scarecrow, a hopeful secretary and a white cat.

That secretary did not flinch at the sight of the massive black predator that could swallow an elephant back then. Why would she now?

"You know that's not what I meant."

And isn't that a load of good smelling bullshit.

"And just what do I know Bigby?"

The million-dollar question that plagues her mind far more than it has any right to do on a daily basis.

A question that apparently looking for its answer seems to leave him as frustrated as her, because he finally breaks the eye contact and give in to his weird habit of staring at a random direction, a habit she mimics. Allowing the silence to lord over them once again.

It has always been like this.

From the moment she locked eyes with him in that prisoner camp up until this very moment everyone, even himself, always expected her to understand the meaning behind his every move and word; as if she is an animal behavior expert or has telepathic access to the fairy furry's mind.

And it simply baffled her. For she never felt that she has a real grasp of Bigby's character.

He has changed much from the gruff, sarcastic and feral bastard that had three fights a day instead of meals. He is still sarcastic but instead of poisonous a scowl a small self-pleased smile now follows, he is still a gruff but his words are more measured and most importantly, he's usually calm. Trading the absolute animalistic behavior with a tired, strong and mostly silent type of personality.

But there are times that she is simply left baffled with what she sees.

"Torturing people won't do shit." He once said. "They'll say anything to stop the pain." And that made sense. Like so many other things he says.

And yet she saw him in the mirror, mentally torturing Tweedle Dee with a hungry look on his face. Torching his money and reacting to a word of his pleas, shoving a dead woman's picture in his face and talking circles around him about his brother while growling like a feral animal, ready to pounce. Like a time bomb ready to explode.

Charming made that observation once.

And she rushed into that rusted cell into the scene of Tweedle Dee getting a spirit bottle smashed into his face. Looking like exactly like the animal that everyone feared.

And his reasoning for throwing away centuries of building trust and learning to suppress his other side?

"I thought you were dead."

That is not a good reasoning.

That does not make any of it okay.

If anything that makes it all worse.

They're not supposed to differentiate their people. Everyone should be cared for. All of them are a part of this community. All of them matter the same.

He's been here since the very start. He knows that.

In fact, he treats everyone pretty much the same.

Yet he didn't look half as bothered when he saw Faith's severed head as he is now.

He's voice always seem to become a few octaves gentler when he is talking to her.

And it infuriates and amazes her to no end.

The fact that she can talk to the Big Bad Wolf as his friend or colleague without having to fear any dangers is strangely euphoric.

And she is stuck between deciding to like it or despise it.

Yet the worst part in all of this is that it all feels like it's in her head.

He never confirms anything that isn't work related and that leaves so much room for speculation. Too much.

Relationships Should not be labeled. Professional or otherwise.

But nothing is ever simple with him.

So yes! She is going to ask him. She is going to wait until he says it.

Even if this is not the time nor the place for it.

Because she is just tired.

Tired of having to fill in the blanks. Tired of not knowing where do they stand. Tired of her brain second-guessing everything about him.

She cares for him.

How could she not when he has done so much?

When he could walk out on them without having to worry for thing yet never even thought about it?

He's become more than part of this community. He's one its hanging pillars. Not a pretty one to be sure but a strong one. Possibly the strongest.

Every time Crane or Bluebeard have tried to find his replacement they failed. For there was only one and only one Bigby Wolf.

The mere thought of the office without his stalwart presence alone left a bitter taste in her mouth.

So for all its inherit wickedness, she is going to be selfish enough to actually demand an answer. At least this once.

And for the sake of centuries of acquaintance and an entire community of outcasts, she does not hold her breath for anything.

She hears the equivalent of a sigh from his throat and looks at him from the corner of her eyes.

"That I care about you."

And that makes her head turn.

Locking eyes with him.

In all honesty, she did not expect it.

Not from him to come out and say it.

"And here they say actions speak louder than voice." He sighs again as he leans on the wall. Now sounding like he was chiding her. So she had to answer.

"And how am I supposed to count on those actions when half of the time they contradict what I think I know of you?" Her voice has lost its energy. Devoid of its previous apprehension.

Another sigh leaves the sheriff's mouth. Clearly frustrated with having to outright speak about the things that are on his mind or explain things about himself like Gaston.

"I'm not even half as complicated as you think I am Snow." His voice make it sound more like a growl than a sentence.

The words sound strange and out of place coming out of Bigby's mouth. Every sentence makes Snow contemplate pinching herself so she might wake up from this bizarre dream.

But she doesn't. Because for once she is selfish enough to allow herself to indulge in this fantasy.

"You're…" He pauses. Either not used to filling the silence or not knowing how to word his exact thoughts.

"You're a good friend." His voice breaks as he forces the words out.

"And I don't have many of those." He breathes out the words as if they physically hurting him.

And that answers much while not answering anything at all. Classic Bigby.

But there it is. She has it now. He's straightforward answer.

And once again she is left in limbo. Not knowing how she feels about it.

Why does it matter though? She got her answer, didn't she?

If anything his answer should be more than satisfactory.

The Big Bad Wolf considers her his friend and the thought of her being lost distressed him to the point of taking out his aggression on another fable.

It is equal parts endearing as it is horrifying.

What if something actually did happen to her? What would Bigby do? What would happen to Fabletown?

These questions are the ones that should be on the forefront of her mind.

But they are not.

Instead that word keeps getting repeated in her head like it's stuck in an echo chamber.

Friend

He sees her as a friend.

A friend worth fighting for.

And that leaves her stunned.

Even though she shouldn't be.

They spent centuries in each other's company. Trying to make something out of an underground government of fairytale beings that barely tolerate their own relatives. They shared late hour paperwork's, coffees, meals, laughs and arguments

It is only natural when people who work together and get along to form some kind of bond.

But to call him friend?

That word is not easily used in Fabletown.

Its residents are so alienated from the world and themselves that forming meaningful relationships is even more tenacious than a battlefield.

Yet here is the most alien of them all, claiming that he had found someone he trusts and values without even trying.

And that person is her.

The fact that he acknowledges it is a dream turned into a nightmare.

From the very moment that he was brought here they have tried to humanize him as much as possible.

Lycanthropy, regular hygiene, wearing clothes, reading, writing and not growling or biting people as greeting.

Forming connections was another way of making sure that he can function in a civilized society. But it never worked.

The only people he was interesting in talking to were Snow & Cole. And that made sense because they were his colleague and boss.

Collin is still an incomprehensible case that solving it would burn far more brain cells than it is worth.

But him acknowledging that he has a positive relationship with someone it's something that they had all given up on long ago.

And yet here it is.

Showing itself in the most feral and animalistic fashion possible.

Cementing the fact that they were all fools chasing their own tail.

Not even thinking about the fact an apex predator that has human levels of intelligence it's still a predator that was born, grew and thrived as a predator and it would still act upon instinct.

For them there is only either Bigby or Giant Wolf.

Forgetting that the wolf is the reality and this human visage it's all but a handsome mask.

But that wolf is not like any other.

He understands them, he lives among them, and he helps in protecting them from each other.

He is an animal. And that is the beautiful reality.

People use that term too carelessly.

Because here stands before her an animal.

He looks like a human, talks like a human, acts like a human. But it's not the human part that keeps him here. It's the animal.

The wolf that everyone fears and despises it's the reason she has a stalwart friend that vowed to protect their little town of fables and forgotten stories.

He cares about more than his next meal. He has it in himself to let someone in. So he can let others in.

Yes, he is an animal. But he is not just an animal.

He is the animal that was intelligent enough to cook up a devious scheme to trick a little girl into thinking he is her grandma before trying to eat her; and he is the wolf that was compassionate enough to attack a prison camp and help the captive fables escape.

They are here because he had made a choice and that choice has helped this little hovel turn into an actual community.

Everyone make mistakes on a daily basis. Fables even more. And here she is, tearing into him for acting upon the simple instinct of looking for a way to cope with the loss of someone dear to him.

She asks herself how would she have reacted if she saw his head on her doorstep?

And no answer comes up because the mere thought of it is ridiculous.

Bigby's always been here and to imagine him gone?

It sounds like a bad dream.

And that alone answers her question.

To think that she would one day take something for granted is an irony far more bitter than she could swallow.

Not anymore though.

She takes tentative steps towards the sheriff, making him look up slightly.

He's eyes are distant. As if he is barely here.

She gets close enough for them to share breath. Making him take a deep breath and clench his fists.

Before he could do or say anything she puts her right hand on his left shoulder. Feeling the warmth and the tightness of his muscles. He barely registers it. Simply lost into her eyes.

Her chest feels unusually warm.

Being this close and touching him so personally feels both right and wrong. Just like everything else about their relationship. By this point it's more comforting than frustrating.

She gives him a small smile and gently whispers: "You are a good friend too Bigby."

He blinks several times. Clearly trying to digest it.

Hours seem to pass until he finally breaks eye contact and let's go of a breath she didn't knew he was holding. His shoulders relax and his fist unclench as he opens his eyes and she is greeted with his second gentle smile in this week.

It is a beautiful smile.