A Curse Upon Thee 13A

Being a deputy didn’t change much.

Really, what could it change? Storybrooke was Storybrooke, and in his two months here, the only things that came close to being worth the attention of his law were literally Emma hitting him with her car, and Graham’s untimely ‘heart attack’.

It was a small town of not even four thousand people. Things didn’t exactly… happen.

All of that meant that apart from showing up once a day to the sheriff’s office to sit at a desk and drink coffee, Finn generally found himself being paid to do nothing more than walk around town and have people see him with the badge.

All that before heading to Granny’s for another coffee.

I think I’m getting addicted, honestly. Not like anyone could really blame him, the coffee was one of the few things this town had going for it.

Hot, fresh, and full of so much sugar and cream that he’d probably need emergency dental work in a solid year, Finn was already on his third cup of the day. Mmmm… He took another long draw from the mug, ceramic hot against his palms. Could use some more sugar.

The back corner booth in Granny’s Diner probably had an imprint under his ass by now, red vinyl cracked under his new jeans as he sat there in the same spot for the last couple hours of the day. Of course, he was here on official sheriff’s deputy business, no doubt.

He just… needed to figure out what exactly that was.

Reconnaissance… Yeah, that sounded about right. He was doing reconnaissance on the town and making sure there were no more random kids shoplifting like he and Emma had to deal with last week. Now, how was someone supposed to shoplift from a diner? Well, that was for the sheriff to figure out, he was just the deputy.

Clockwork people moved through their clockless lives; the same faces rotating through the diner with the same orders and the same conversations. 

It was honestly like being trapped in the world’s most boring snow globe. If Reggie is behind this, I wonder what her endgame is. Frankly, Finn didn’t see the point of making a barrier this size just to do nothing with it, but then… Don’t really know much about barriers, either.

Amnesia and all, he wasn’t that knowledgeable about most things. Part of the reason why Sheriff Swan had told him to get a feel for the town again now that he wasn’t public enemy number one. 

So he saluted her (which she hated) and for the last couple days, he just watched.

And waited.

And tried not to let the crushing boredom manifest as a Cursed Technique.

Wait… Blue eyes narrowed as he took another sip. Wait, that… that couldn’t actually happen, right? He blinked, pulling a face and staring off at nothing. Shit, it probably could. Maybe, not a Cursed Technique considering he didn’t have one, but Jujutsu innovation was batshit and schizophrenic on its best day. Maybe a simple domain with the concept of boredom.

His head tilted to the side as he took another sip, tips of his hair brushing the table. Just a ten-meter radius where everyone stops giving a shit, sure it sounded cool, but… That already happens at town meetings, anyway.

The bell above the door chimed, the sound bright, sharp, and expected. Finn looked up, only to wince as the person that walked through was entirely unexpected.

The tap-tap-tap of the man’s cane was enough to make him twitch, the sound on linoleum something he hadn’t realized he hated hearing. Mr. Gold.

The pawnshop owner smiled as his eyes met Finn’s, the man seeming to glide over even with that limping dance of his. There was no request to sit from the man’s lips as he simply slid onto the vinyl opposite Finn, hands folded over the table as he smiled a businessman’s smile at the young man; nothing honest or friendly in it.

“Deputy McHale.” The man managed to purr and hiss all at the same time with each and every syllable, the sounds of two sociopathic animals somehow firmly at home in his mouth. “How absolutely wonderful to see your young self out and about once again. No longer a man wanted by the law, I see.”

Finn raised the mug to his lips again, the hot sweetness of the coffee pouring down his throat as he held Gold’s gaze over the rim. “Nah.” He cleared his throat. “They still want me. Just on their side, though.” 

A finger tapped his silver badge, each one a punctuation point.

“A promotion, then.” Gold’s eyes twinkled in silent applause as the man giggled. “It suits you, young McHale. That air of authority.”

Yeah… okay? “It’s the jacket.” That same finger flicked slowly at the lapel of his brand-new red leather. “Adds like ten pounds, all of it charisma.”

“Indeed,” Gold nodded with that smile still in place. “I must confess, the shop and I will miss your assistance. There is no denying my inventory has felt rather… stationary in your absence. Will you be returning to your duties?”

Blue eyes went wide, Finn’s disbelief as real as anything else. “You want me to be a deputy and your stock boy?” He blinked slow, lowering his mug onto the table. Gold, I appreciate the vote of confidence in my work ethic, but… no. Also, being a deputy pays better.”

“Ah, a mercenary at heart,” Gold’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “A man after my own. But my offer still stands.”

“Offer?”

“Knowledge, Mr. McHale.” The old man tapped the side of his head as that damn smile widened. “I am quite good at finding things.”

Finn blinked again, Mr. Gold’s gaze unflinching. “I’ll keep that in mind, Gold.” The ‘mister’ had slid out of his vocabulary, roughly around the same time he realized he wasn’t reliant on the guys for a paycheck. “As long as you make sure I get my last paycheck.”

Gold clearly knew a wall when he saw one as the man pushed himself up from the booth, cane thumping the ground once as he rose to his full height. “Of course. Do enjoy your day, Deputy McHale.”

Finn watched the man glide away, the businessowner unable to hide what nobody else but him could notice. The churning, chaotic abyss of the man’s Cursed Energy was clearer than ever up close, a bevy of bristling Binding Vows just under the surface making the air taste like old pennies.

…I swear that guy’s the fuckin’ Devil. Finn sipped his coffee again. Pays good, though.

The afternoon bled on to evening, the dinner rush coming and going in waves of gossip and the smell of fried onions as Finn stayed put in his seat, melding deeper and deeper into the fabric of the booth beneath him. 

Eventually, the place emptied out and Ruby, her shift finally over, slid into the booth where Gold had been. She didn’t come alone, a steaming plate of potato wedges fresh from the fryer clinking onto the table as she took her seat.  “Okay…”

Finn’s eyebrow went skyward. “Okay?”

“Okay.” She parroted the word as she slid the plate towards him across the formica. “Spill.”

“Wow…” Finn popped a wedge into his mouth, a snort leaving him. “You are so specific today, Bee Bee. Spill what? The town secrets? Hate to break it to you, but I haven’t really been on my investigating game all that recently.”

“Not that.” A set of bright red nails clicked against the table as the other hand waved away his words. “You.”

Finn tapped his chest. “Me?”

“Yes, you.” Ruby nodded, lips spreading in a smile. “I want your story, Cherry Boy.”

The nickname landed like a well-aimed spitball, right between the eyes, and enough to make him flinch the second he heard it. “We agreed you’d forget that.”

“No, you asked me to forget that.” Lips red enough to match her nails spread wider into a grin as bright white as his own. “This girl made no such promises.” She leaned forward, chin propped on her hands and elbows on the table. “So, tell me, big boy? What’s rattlin’ around up there? Anything come back yet?”

A sound like a deflating tire forced its way free from his lungs as Finn dragged a fry through a big blot of ketchup. A jagged red streak painted itself on the white plate as he stared down at it, eyes blank as the condiment puddle stared right back at him. The questions weren’t dumb or anything and Finn knew that, considering he asked himself the same ones almost every other day. 

When somebody else asked, though… well, it meant he had to try and give a genuine answer.

He hated being genuine. 

It was like going shirtless to a knife fight… not that he had experience in knife fights… An ea?

Finn shook his head, Ruby blinking at him patiently. 

“It’s not… linear.” The words were hard to get his hands around and even harder to force out of his mouth. Not too different than trying to describe color to a blind person, or explain the state of salt without saying salty? “It’s like I’ve got a whole library in my head, but all the books are pretty much just chopped up and thrown in a blender.”

Blue eyes flicked up, meeting Ruby’s as he tried to make it all make sense. “Like… I know Boston, I don’t know why but I know it. The more Emma talks about it, the more familiar it is, y’know?” He shook his head slow. “Maybe I’m just crazy but the North End, the T, the air off the harbor after a good rain… all that feels… real.”

“Okay, okay…” Ruby nodded in time with him, her eyes softer than usual and no sarcasm on her lips. “That’s something, right?”

“Yeah, but…” Finn’s jaw tightened, jaw clicking shut as he let out a sigh. “I also know, like I know my own name, for one… like, obviously, right? But I know my own name just as well as I know that I spent two years of high school at a private academy in Kyoto, Japan.” He clicked his tongue at the contradiction of it, the realization almost a physical weight pressing heavy on his shoulders. “Hundred bucks says I culd make my way through the whole frickin Arashiyama Bamboo Grove with my eyes closed, Bee. Hell, I know which stall near the Fushimi Inari shrine sells the best gyoza. And none of that probably makes any sense to you, right?”

Ruby pulled a face, shaking her head. “I… I didn’t even know Kyoto was a place.”

“Right?” Finn almost let a laugh slip out, but his teeth clicked shut before the manic sound could make him come off any crazier than he already sounded. “If I am from Boston, how the hell did I end up over there? It doesn’t fit.”

And that didn’t even get into the fact that he was seven years in the fuckin’ past too.

“I mean…” His hands slipped around a paper napkin, fingers moving on their own as his mind whirled over experiences he couldn’t recall. A sharp crease, a crisp fold, another turn; all of it a dance of muscle memory he didn’t know he possessed. 

Ruby watched his hands, eyes wide as his fingers flittered around in front of her. “You do speak Japanese so you can’t be all that crazy, Cherry Boy. You had to have been in Japan at some point right?”

“And Gaeilge too.”

Ruby made a noise he couldn’t describe, a fry flying free of her mouth before she took a sip of water. “…what? What was that word? Gway-ill-geh?”

“No, Gaeilge, it’s Irish Gae…” Finn let out another sigh, eyes closing for a second as his fingers continued their tucking and folding. “It’s the Irish language. So, it’s not just Japanese I know.”

“Oh…” Ruby took another sip. “I mean, I guess that makes sense. You know, with the whole Boston thing and the hair, considering Irish.”

Finn nodded again. “Yeah, yeah, but it’s still… weirdly fluent for a language nobody even knows like that. Like, perfectly fluent. I know words for things I’ve never seen. Makes no sense, Bee.”

He finished the last fold as he finally looked up.

Sitting on the table between them was a perfect, delicate paper crane.