We may not know what could have happened in season 2 for TWAU, but perhaps we make our own little headcanons instead?
okay tbh this was just a taste of what I think a ~plot~ would be for a twaus2 and I’m debating expanding on it even more but!!! lemme know!!!
Snow was always up to her knees in work.
She barely had time to breathe let alone look at Bigby.
And he hated it.
He tried to do whatever he could to lessen her workload.
To take some of it.
To get the higher ups to stop giving her so much.
Nothing worked.
It was making him pissed.
Snow had been in isolation for days.
Her only real human contact is regarding meetings.
Meetings about complaints.
Meetings she felt absent for anyways.
She was sleep deprived.
Exhausted.
A ghost of the woman Bigby loved.
He’d had enough.
He was going to do something.
He slammed her office door open.
She was scattered and surrounded by paperwork.
On her computer.
A hot cup of coffee in front of her.
The bags heaving under her eyes.
Lazily, her gaze turned to him.
And blinked.
“You’re taking a break.”
“What? Bigby,” she scoffed, rubbing at her eyes. “Bigby no, I can’t.”
“You’re going to.”
His voice was rough, and passionate, but gentle.
The special way he only spoke to Snow.
No one else.
Her hands fell to her lap.
The tiredness leaking out.
Bigby felt himself grow even softer.
“I’ll take everything on.”
“What?”
“For a day. While you go home and rest.”
Snow blinked slowly.
“We’ll work on everything together tomorrow.”
Snow didn’t leave right away.
She sat on the small couch in her office and sipped at her coffee.
She seemed stressed.
Bigby prayed a day off work could change that.
He sat at her desk and sifted through her paperwork.
Complaints. Issues. Questions.
They all fell under the same category.
The same category Bigby had feared they were:
About money.
Glamour pricing was still on the up and up.
Complaints, calls for help, and questions about what to do scattered her desk.
Records of her phone calls - on-the-phone yelling matches - sat there.
Not including the in-person yelling Bigby heard so often.
He thought back to all the times he stormed into her office.
Kicking assholes out.
Watching the tired, nervous way Snow watched them leave.
One day, one of them was standing.
Looming over her desk.
Screaming.
She tried to keep eye contact but kept turning away.
Bigby threw him out.
“Are you okay?” He’d asked.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re shaking, Snow.”
She looked out the window and hugged her arms.
Bigby sat on her office’s couch while she worked for the rest of the morning.
Surveying.
Turn away the people who came to her door.
Something needed to change.
They all knew it was the system.
But something needed to change now.
This treatment.
These immediate issues.
Bigby lifted a handful of papers.
The worst ones.
And stuffed them into his pocket.
“I’m going out.”
“Where?” Snow said, standing.
Urgently. Almost scared.
Bigby eased. “I’m going to deal with some complaints.”
Snow hated that.
She didn’t trust Bigby.
“I’ll come to.”
“You should rest.”
“I can’t.” She sighed, setting down her cup. “I’m too stressed about all of this.”
Bigby felty his heart sink.
He only ever let his emotions show in front of Snow.
Faintly, but still showed them.
And Snow could see.
She always did.
“I want to come with you.”
Snow never asked. She told.
Bigby always admired that.
He liked her spark. Her passion.
“It would help me feel less stressed knowing I’m actually doing something.”
She fidgeted.
“To help. Somehow.” She finished.
Bigby couldn’t say no to that.
“Let’s get going.” He said.
Their goal was to talk to people.
To learn their stories.
To build up a case.
So they could make a case to the higher ups to do something.
Anything.
The first house had kids.
Lots of them.
And where Snow smiled, Bigby froze.
He hated dealing with children.
Snow was great at it.
Even if it was just show for the job.
“You have such a lovely family,” Snow said.
Entering their house.
The parents seemed unimpressed.
Bigby wandered inside.
Avoiding contact with any child.
The parents weren’t happy with them.
Figures.
And were bitter the entirety of their visit.
Snow stood while they talked.
She wasn’t offered a seat.
While they kids tugged at Bigby’s pant leg.
Wanting to play.
Snow turned to him.
Gave him a look.
And he caved.
Rolling his eyes.
And took the kids outside to play.
He kept himself close enough to see through the window.
Just in case something went wrong.
The kids were showing Bigby their toys.
Talking with him about them.
Giggling as they trotted around the yard with each other.
Excited to show their new friend what all they owned.
Bigby smirked seeing their joy.
He thought it was silly.
Laughable.
But innocent.
And Fabletown needed more of that.
Snow emerged half an hour later.
And watched the scene with a smile.
Bigby leaning against the front yard’s tree.
Smiling watching the kids play.
Chuckling whenever they giggled.
Snow paused and watched him.
Mesmerized in his sweet awe.
His genuine, albeit subtle, joy.
Bigby caught her stare and stood upright.
Watching the two houseguests step outside.
Waving their kids in.
Then they left.
“How did it go?’
Snow sighed. “It’s done.”
Bigby stared at her.
Concerned.
“They’re upset. And going broke.” She said. “And Glamour is why.”
The story was common.
They’d heard it hundreds of times before.
And were about to hear it even more.
House two was much of the same.
But this time, Bigby got to sit inside.
Beside Snow.
No kids.
“We can’t keep living like this.” The werewolf woman said.
She turned to her wife - a goblin.
“We can’t afford it anymore.” The goblin said. “We hide out in the house.”
“We definitely can’t afford getting arrested.” The werewolf said.
Dabbing at her eyes with a kleenex.
Snow felt gutted.
Bigby watched silently.
Distraught, but trying to remain stone-cold.
Two houses later, Snow broke down.
In the cab, on their way back to the office, she sighed.
Her voice wavering.
“We can’t keep doing this.”
Bigby turned to her.
She couldn’t look at him. She knew she’d cry.
“We’re destroying these people’s lives. We’re driving them to ruin.”
Her voice kept cracking.
Paired with Bigby’s heart.
“It’s not us, Snow. It’s them.”
“We work for them,” she said, finally turning to him.
He could see the tears welling in her eyes.
And the raw crack of pain exposed him to her.
She eased.
And they both stared at each other.
Snow sat in her office dishevelled.
Lost. Confused. Conflicted.
She didn’t want to talk.
She didn’t want to do anything.
So, Bigby sat in silence with her.
He sat on his couch.
And smoked.
And Snow was too distraught to tell him to stop.
He was so lost he hadn’t realized he was smoking until he was halfway through.
Then tossed it out the window.
Snow noticed.
And felt a wave of calm.
Of care.
Bigby took off.
He returned 15 minutes later.
Two coffees.
And he made hers just the way she liked.
He leaned against her desk while she sat in her chair.
“I don’t know what to do,”
Bigby clutched his mug tighter.
It tore him apart seeing her so upset.
She was such a kind soul.
She only wanted the best for people.
And she’d put her foot down to demand it.
She could be cold, and harsh, and determined.
But it was because she wanted the best for people.
She always had.
She always would.
And here she was.
Beating herself up over how she couldn’t do it here.
How she couldn’t help.
How she was working for those hurting so many.
“You’re a good person, Snow.”
She froze, staring up at him.
Her eyes shook, settling on his.
He was the steadiness in her shaking sea.
“I know you’re doubting that,” he said.
Her eyes shook harder.
“But you’re a good person. You having this debate proves it.”
“But I’m still here, Bigby.” She said.
She clutched her mug tighter in her lap.
And paused.
Then put it on the desk.
“I’m still supporting the people that are hurting so many.”
Bigby set his mug down.
Snow watched him.
“Our hands are tied, here. It’s not your fault that they are.”
Snow sighed softly.
And closed her eyes.
“I feel lost.”
But not with Bigby.
Never with Bigby.
He was her consistent.
When everything was falling.
Bigby sat with her until she had the heart to leave the office.
Until she wasn’t on the verge of tears.
And Bigby helped her into a cab.
And left for his mission.
45 minutes later, he was at her door.
And she opened the door.
He was holding two paper bags.
One filled with dinner.
The other with a wine bottle.
Snow blinked as she studied him.
Still not out of her work clothes.
Her hair a mess from stress.
Her eyes heavy.
“Come on,” he said, starting inside. “Let’s take a break.”
And Snow blinked.
And sunk back into her house.
Locking her front door.
Tomorrow was another day.
Another battle for them to tackle.
Another step toward solving Fabletown’s swarm of problems.
But tonight, they were taking a break.
With her constant.
And with his.
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