Let Your Conscience Be Your Guide

[stillsmallvoice]

There's significance in the wisdom of a child, even more in one like Henry. It's no small matter that Archie Hopper's moment of illumination came at the bottom of a mine shaft where they both could have died.

And above all, there's the very real significance that he's stood up to the one person in Storybrooke, outside of perhaps Mr. Gold whom he only associates with when absolutely necessary, that could crush him like a bug.

Yet, once Marco has bid him goodnight he and Pongo return to the office and a stack of files. And mostly full bottle of scotch, leading to a tumbler of scotch... and quite naturally a belly of scotch as he considers the decisions he's made.

[ooc: Episode tag to 1x05, finding my feet so to speak. Feel free to tag in.]

Comments

[the_fairest]

One of the great things about Storybrooke being a small town is that it is relatively safe. Oh, they still encourage their children to come in from playing on the lawns a few hours after dark and a town, no matter how small, still has a curfew ordinance.

But it's a safe place to walk at night -- whether that's because it's a safe town, or because no one would dare have to face the Mayor at midnight for getting caught doing something -- so that is just what Mary Margaret is doing.

She couldn't sleep and she didn't want to wake Emma, so she's walking. Watching the stars, and the street lamps, and listening to the magical sound of the crickets.

[stillsmallvoice]

As chance would have it, Doctor Hopper picks the same quiet time to head home for the night. He handles Pongo's leash gently, his umbrella hooked over the opposite elbow as he sways slightly on his feet - not quite drunk but decidedly fuzzy feeling.

"Ah, uh... Mary Margaret," he lifts his chin toward her, offering a soft smile; his cheeks ruddy with drink and contemplation. "You're out late tonight."

[the_fairest]

She smiled, a little embarrassed to be caught, but brightly as well. He'd survived the mines, and the night itself just felt so. Peaceful, tonight.

"Just walking. Are you headed home, Dr. Hooper?"

Did he really go back to work even after his long day?

[stillsmallvoice]

His slim smile takes on a sheepish upturn and he let's out a soft laugh, absently brushing his fingertips over the slight abrasion on his head.

"Ah, yes... I suppose we are."

He looks down at the sidewalk and then back up at her; "I suppose time got away from me."

It's not a lie, but doesn't nearly speak the truth. "A lot on your mind this evening?"

[the_fairest]

"I couldn't sleep, and I didn't want to wake Emma by moving around in the apartment too much." Which isn't the exact same answer, but it is the reason she's out here. She supposes anytime you're alone for an extended period you end up thinking a lot.

"It seemed a nice night to take walk. Peaceful, with all the stars, and the crickets."

[stillsmallvoice]

He understands all too well.

"It is..." He replies quietly, shifting his umbrella from one side to the other to offer his elbow to her; "would you like an escort this evening? I'm sure Pongo wouldn't mind the extra exercise and I could use a cleared head."

The soft chirp makes him feel comfortable, and yet also a little unnerved by Henry's insistence that they were never there before.

[the_fairest]

"As long is you aren't troubling yourself?" Mary Margaret asked, to be sure first. Some concern, as well as an ability to back out if he needed to go home and rest. "You had one of the most eventful days had in Storybrooke today."

[stillsmallvoice]

He chuckles dryly, "Never a trouble." Hard to trouble a troubled man, not that Miss Mary Margaret ever could - she's one of the least troubling people he's had the pleasure of knowing.

"I suppose it was a bit... Rough." He shakes his head, looking back to her easily enough; "But it's done now. Henry's safe... and I'm safe."

[the_fairest]

Mary Margaret nodded, and turned slightly, that they could keep walking. Asking with a her tone, rather than a question. "I was surprised to see you would have returned to work, or stayed so late."

She gave him a faintly warmer smile. Still shy, but confidingly complimenting. "If it were me, I would have gone home, curled up with the warmest blankets, the biggest cup of tea and a favorite book."

[stillsmallvoice]

He laughs again, a soft nervous sound.

"I suppose that would have been a preferable idea, but I wanted to read over some files and you know how it is. Ten minutes turns to a few hours and a few drinks." He lifts up the hand holding the dog's leash to push back his glasses with a somewhat graceless palm - Pongo obediently slowing as he did.

[the_fairest]

"I know that one. Grading has done that to me more often than I'd realized, before Emma was here to notice it or drag me out from under it," Mary Margaret agreed, crossing her arms loose over her stomach.

"Hopefully it wasn't anything too taxing?" The question is easily straight froward, without the slightest list into inquiring about his work itself.

[stillsmallvoice]

He considers the questions she's not asking more than the one that she has, and there are no answers for it.

"No," he answers softly, "nothing I can't handle."

He looks back over to her, letting their steps slow to a casual stroll. "And how are things with Miss Swan?"

[ooc: That'll teach me to thread tired. ;)]

[the_fairest]

Mary Margaret considered that for a few steps as they kept walking. "Good. Today hit her a lot harder than she expected it to, I think, but she'll be okay. A good night's sleep will take off the worst of the rough edges of it."

Anyone who had been watching her knew her attachment to Henry had grown with the duration her stay, but having to face that, with chance of losing him, might have been an unexpected, rude awakening as things went.

[stillsmallvoice]

"I think it had that effect for all of us," he let out a soft sigh.

"I'd like to talk to her, though."

She wouldn't come to him, he understands that - but all the same there were things that should be said.

[the_fairest]

"You could stop by the station tomorrow?" Mary Margaret suggested.

Even if finding her to talk to, and getting her to talk , with Emma were too vastly different things.

[stillsmallvoice]

Archie considers the option and nods slowly; "I think I will."

After a short pause, her apartment not far from their path, he asks; "How are things at the hospital?"

[the_fairest]

Mary Margaret could see it from here even. The single window that glowed softly in the night, where she'd left one lamp in the living room on. Cozy and welcoming from the night, even as her arms tightened around her middle.

Because the thoughts and the answer would not be.

She pressed her lips together. "I resigned tonight."

Okay. So, maybe there was a reason she couldn't sleep.

[stillsmallvoice]

"I see," he responds easily, ever the professional even after a few drinks and a stressful day ended with so many things unanswered. "You were unhappy?"

He knows it's about David... Her Prince Charming if Henry's tales are to believed - which given the day he's had, is an amusing thought to consider.

[the_fairest]

"The opposite actually." It falls out of her mouth, surprising her. She hadn't admitted as much to Emma even so outright. Why had it suddenly felt like she should tell him, could trust him?

[stillsmallvoice]

He nods again, subtly slowing their steps to give her time if she needs to talk.

"David." It isn't a question so much as letting her know that he's put some things together.

[the_fairest]

Her shoulders tense at the name, very noticeably. But not as noticeable, except to her, as how hard the sudden sharp feeling of wrongness in the center of her heart spikes. That every smart thought today, every best decision for all of them, all of it was wrong.

"How did yo-- Oh," She nodded once, looking down, with an expression more like a wince. "Henry."

[stillsmallvoice]

"Don't worry, Mary Margaret. I'd never break confidence." It's not a confirmation, nor a denial. While she is not technically under doctor-patient confidentiality, she may as well be. It wouldn't be right any other way.

"If you'd like to talk about it, as friends of course, ear is always open."

[the_fairest]

"I'm not sure there is anything to talk about," Mary Margaret admitted, shaking her head. Even as with her arms still crossed, her hands covered over her elbows, holding tighter. "It was the smartest choice to make. To take myself out of the picture, so he can focus on what is important in his life."

Each word feels as sharp as glass. But they are true, they have to be, so she keeps saying them. "Finding his memories from before the coma, and working on his life with Kathryn."

Instead of anything -- everything -- else.

[stillsmallvoice]

Archie sighs and tentatively reaches out to her, letting his free hand rest on her bent elbow.

"You don't sound so sure about that."

[the_fairest]

Why was she blinking, looking up at the suddenly unfocused sky, as though she might start crying? Why did a single touch, one that was far more than professional, but actually comforting, make it feel so much bigger than someone she had only met so shortly ago?


Mary Margaret shook her head, quickly, breathing in, not looking to him directly. She settled for, finally, "I have to be. I already put in my letter. And he's just...confused."


No. That wasn't good enough. She had to say it. "Married."