Bigby had planned to turn off the lights in the business office that night; however, it was not empty as he had hoped. Among the large piles of manila folders, he caught Snow working feverishly, barely acknowledging his presence.

"Hey, I'm turning in for the night, you alright here?" He called out to her.

She responded hurriedly, not looking up, "Yeah, m'fine, goodnight." She pulled the elastic out of her hair, which sent it down her face in inky black curtains. He watched her attempt to finagle it into a bun again. She flinched and he heard a loud snap when the elastic finally gave way. The string of words that flowed from her mouth would have made a sailor blush. He shut the door quietly behind him, figuring she would not appreciate the audience.

Should probably check on her. She has been working all day. He thought to himself as he pressed the elevator button. He thought of her having one of those 'late nights' again, all alone, probably finding nothing and then repeating the cycle the next night.

He left the apartment building and returned with two piping hot cups of coffee.

He didn't bother to knock, seeing as both of his hands were full. He called out to her, "I'm back, would you like some help? Or at least some company?"

She lifted her head out of her hands and smiled wryly at him, "Knew you wouldn't leave your damsel in distress."

He offered her one of the coffees and she snatched it out of his hand, before taking a big swig. Her eyes widened and she covered her mouth with her hand.

"Hot." She stated, a mouthful of coffee still present behind her lips.

"What did you expect? It's coffee." Bigby laughed and removed the lid from his, gently blowing at the surface of the liquid.

"Was hoping for scotch."

"You're joking." The man chuckled next to her.

"Only half." Snow smiled sheepishly at him, then looked back to her workspace. Her eyes closed slowly and her head returned to her hands.

"Looks like you're still trying to find who had ties to the Crooked Man." Bigby surveyed the desk in front of him. Files were stacked as high as the desk next to Snow's chair, and the piles in front of him looked to be even taller.

"Good eye, detective." Her voice was groggy and tired. She had turned into a ball of nerves that he couldn't untangle, although he desperately wanted to come to her aid.

"Sheriff," he corrected sarcastically, "Do you need help?" Bigby picked up the folder in front of her. In big block letters on the tab it read 'CHARMING'.

Snow slowly nodded and began picking through the rest of the pile to her right, "Just – I don't know. Look for anything strange. Were they ever unemployed for an extended period of time yet had absolutely no money problems? Do they have any special ties to those we already know are associated? And so on…" She blew a tendril of hair out of her face and began skimming through Bo Peep's file.

"It says here that Charming was allegedly unemployed for a long period of time, yet he still was extremely wealthy." Bigby laid the folder down in front of Snow, pointing to some tax forms from many years ago. He could see her wince away from the folder as if it carried a disease.

Now I feel like an asshole, I shouldn't have asked. He regretted shoving that prick's file in her face.

"Yeah, um…he was a prince back in the Homelands." She brought her sleeve up to her eye and quickly averted her gaze. Bigby swiftly plucked the folder from her field of view and continued skimming through other Fables' records.

A long silence followed.

Snow continued to compare tax reports and travel itineraries to Fables' records until she finally lolled her head back and closed her eyes.

Her chest rose and fell with each short breath, becoming deeper as she relaxed into the soft plush of the armchair she was seated in.

"It sucks." She said flatly.

Bigby looked up from his undone pile of records and cocked his head to the side, "Hmm?"

"Not the job, per say," Snow sat up straighter and placed her hands on the desk in front of her, "the situation. We are here to look out for Fables – THAT'S OUR JOB – YET everyone goes to the Crooked Man because it's easy. We can't be there for everyone, and the ones who fall through the cracks end up like Faith and Lily. I can't have this be how we are known! We are all we have, and if we don't have each other, then we are all ALONE."

Snow punctuated her last word by letting her head fall forward and her shoulders slump.

Bigby sat, stunned, in his chair. She was so vulnerable in this state, like she would fracture if he even breathed near her. Despite this, he laid his palm on top of her hand, gently rubbing it back and forth. Snow looked up at him and he spoke,

"You're good at your job. You do everyone's job here – hell, you even do my job sometimes," he looked down at their hands and felt his face grow hot, "We aren't perfect, and you can't protect everyone, Snow. Sometimes people go astray, shit happens. What we need is someone who can keep it together even when everyone else's shit is falling apart. And that's you." He began to curl his fingers into her palm and she reciprocated, looking at him with a smile on her face despite the tears in her eyes.

That could have been worded better. He thought, cursing his quick mouth and slow mind.

"But I just feel so alone, Bigby." She briefly glanced at their hands.

"You're not the only one who is lonely, Snow." She tilted her head up to look into his face. Her eyes glistened under a veil of fresh tears, piercing into Bigby's gaze. He squeezed her hand once more before letting go and rising from his chair.

His expression was tormented, as if he was simultaneously holding back more that he had to say and also regretting that he had said too much.

He looked towards the door and then back to Snow, "Let's just go back to our apartments and tackle this in the morning, we both could use some sleep. Especially you."

As he began to make his way towards the door, Snow called out for him,

"Wait." She caught up to where he had turned around and blocked his path to the door,

"Are you lonely, Bigby?"

Her hand rose to meet the stubble on his right cheek and he froze. She felt his breathing become ragged at her touch, but she did not falter. Instead, she stepped closer, cutting the distance between them in half.

Is this really happening?

Bigby could hear his heart pounding in his ears as Snow's hand met his cheek. He met her tender eyes only for a second before raising his hand to cover hers.

What the fuck am I doing?

"Snow…" He purred, hearing her breathing become shallow as her face came closer to his. Their short breaths filled the silence of the dimly lit office. He moved his face so that he could inhale her scent from her palm. They had never been this close before.

In a moment of either great stupidity or courage, he placed his other hand on her waist and responded, "Are you?" Pulling her into him. Her scent became even more intoxicating this close.

"Yes." She murmured, and softly brushed her lips against his.

He didn't move. Just the feeling of her mouth caressing his was enough to make his knees weak. He gripped her waist a little tighter and dropped his hand to her other hip. She pulled him in closer, placing both hands on his face and pulling him deeper into the kiss.

Her scent was filing his lungs. It felt like she was flooding into his soul, patching up every crack and making him whole again. He was forgetting to breathe, but he didn't care, he could have sat like this for the rest of his life. He could feel her lips moving over his, and he matched her movements. His one hand strayed up to the small of her back where he drew delicate circles across her spine. She dropped her hands and gripped the front of his shirt, pressing herself into his strong form.

Bigby's movements were hesitant as he slowly tilted his head so that he could deepen the kiss. His head was swimming and he let out a low growl as he felt her tongue trace the inside of his upper lip. He reciprocated and raised his hand to knot in her soft raven hair. Their tongues collided for a brief second and they both shivered. Snow moaned sweetly into the kiss and ran her fingers through his thick brown locks. Their lips separated and they rested their foreheads against each other's, eyes still closed.

Fuck. No going back from that.