The office space was small as she walked into it, a strong musky smell wafting up from the gray carpet to her nose. The floorspace was large and open, with a plastic fold-out table pushed up against the far wall under a small window. Plenty of light made the room somewhat cheery, but Emma couldn't help feeling her heart sink in her chest.

If she was going to help Mr. Gold find Neal, however, then this dingy little office was the only chance they had.

A young woman sat at the fold-out table, flicking through a stack of papers. A small leather briefcase sat on the floor by her feet, and to her left was a stack of manilla folders, some of which looked ready to burst. Looking around, she noticed they didn't even have a proper filing cabinet. Or any other office-like furniture for that matter.

"How long does it take to talk to a receptionist?!" muttered angrily, pushing past Emma and into the office. The woman still hadn't looked up from her work as the man stated, "Well, isn't this a shithole?"

"Mr. Gold-" Emma warned him, her eyes leering toward the young secretary. She was young- probably in her twenties- and wearing a white shirt with black polka-dots matched with a gray pencil skirt. On her feet were a pair of black kitten heels that sunk into carpeting and she had blond hair that reached a little past her shoulders. Emma thought she could pass for an older version of Ava, but quickly pushed the thought away when a voice spoke up from behind them.

"Well, it's our shithole," said a heavyset man as he stalked into the office, swinging a briefcase at his leg. Emma stepped aside to let him in, eyeing how his hair was rather long for someone working in law- didn't these guys have regulations? Protocols of some sort?

"Foggy, hi!" the secretary finally glanced up from her work, giving the man a small wave as she got up. "You want some coffee? The pot we bought arrived this morning." Emma and Mr. Gold watched as the man punched the air with his fist in excitement at the prospect of a morning brew.

"Yes! Finally, we can drown ourselves in salty bitterness every morning for the rest of our miserable lives!" he joked, making the secretary laugh as she went to make it, disappearing into another room. A few seconds later the three of them could hear the whirring of a machine, which Emma was pretty sure coffee pots didn't do. Nodding, the man shoved his hands in the pockets of his gray suit, a blue and gray striped tie around his thick neck.

"I apologize for that," he said, approaching them casually, "Our office space is new, so we're still trying to gather up equipment and things." Emma smiled politely as they stood there, eyeing how greasy the man's hair looked, praying that he at least washed it once a day before leaving for work. They stood like that for a few seconds until a wave of realization hit him.

"Oh! Sorry, I'm Foggy Nelson!" he awkwardly reached out to grab Emma's hand, giving it a quick, firm shake, "Is there anything you folks need? Coffee?"

Foggy Nelson. The name didn't sound real, but then again, who was Emma to judge? The man standing next to her was deemed Rumplestiltskin, so something like "Foggy Nelson" was pretty decent in the way of names. Mr. Gold accepted the offer and the secretary ("This is our secretary, Karen Page," Foggy introduced her proudly.) came out of the other room with a boiling pot of liquid gold. Steam rose from the beverage, evaporating in the air as she carefully set it down amongst the papers on the table.

"Foggy, do we have any mugs?" Karen asked, tucking her hair behind her ear so it didn't dip into the pot. There was a pause until Foggy raced to another room to find them, the banging of cabinets sounding in the hallway.

"Thank you, but it's okay-" Emma began, Mr. Gold's glare stopping her in her tracks.

"They've already made the pot, dearie, we may as well have some," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. Emma rolled her eyes at him. A few hours ago, he was a nervous wreck trying to get through the airport without magic. All of a sudden he now had the confidence to talk down to her?

Emma had had enough. But, since they were already here (and because she didn't really know where else to go), she stayed silent, grateful as Foggy came out with four mugs in his hands. As Karen poured them a few cups, he then turned on them.

"So what brings you two to Hell's Kitchen?" he asked, sipping from his coffee only to yelp as it burned its way down his throat, "Ow! Hot! Hot!"

"Foggy! Careful!" Karen chastised him, pulling a hanky out of her skirt pocket. Emma was impressed- not by the fact that Foggy managed not to drop and spill his coffee, but that Karen's skirt had actual pockets. She made a mental note to ask her where she shopped later.

Mr. Gold, Emma noticed, was silently glaring at them, his look, quite frankly, a little unnerving. Emma jabbed him with her elbow as she took a cup from Karen, careful not to burn herself. The old man however ignored her, jerking stray strands of hair out of his face, giving Karen a malicious grin. His teeth were two rows of pearly whites, a few of them having yellowed with age, although Emma was quite sure magic played a part in it a well, considering those in the Enchanted Forest didn't have dental care.

"You keep saying 'our', Mr. Nelson," Mr. Gold pointed out, "Why is that? Ms. Page works here, does she not?"

Foggy opened his mouth to answer, faltering a bit. No doubt the question had caught the lawyer off-guard, and Karen seemed to shift her weight uncomfortably as well before clearing her throat.

"There's a sign on the door, sir," she explained, "Mr. Nelson is partners with-"

"If he has a partner, why do they not show themselves?" Mr. Gold demanded, narrowing his eyes at her. Cautiously, Emma steered him to a corner of the room, sending an embarrassed smile their way.

"Excuse us for a minute," she said with forced cheeriness, "My grandpa can get a little jittery, if you know what I mean." Once they gave her a nod of approval to speak with him, Emma did all she could not to rip him apart right there and then, "Gold, what the hell?!"

"If we're going to find my son we need to act quickly-" he began to protest. Emma groaned.

"I want to find Neal as much as you do, believe me," Emma stressed, "but we're in New York, not Story Brook. You can't go around talking like that here!" Mr. Gold looked taken back, his veiny hand traveling on his shirt to brush the brooch he wore at his collar, the small pin clipped to his tie. He wasn't used to being so helpless without magic, Emma knew.

There was a pregnant pause in the air before Emma continued, "Listen. If we're going to find Neal, we do it my way, okay?"

"What exactly is your way, dearie?" Mr. Gold snapped under his breath, "these two haven't exactly been the most helpful, now have they?" Emma sighed. That much was true. They seemed like nice people, but out in the real world- In the Enchanted Forest- they would never survive.

"Just let me handle it, okay?" Emma pleaded, "Please?"

She took his silence as a yes. Clearing her throat, she carefully guided him back tot eh conversation, catching them in the middle of whatever conversation they had decided to divulge whilst she and Mr. Gold spoke.

"-about five o'clock, right?" Foggy asked Karen, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't think so, Foggy," Karen shook her head, "Besides, Matt hasn't even walked into the office yet, and you know how hard it can be for him to navigate Hell's Kitchen sometimes-"

"I told him he should have gotten a dog!"

"Does he even like dogs, Foggy?"

"They're trained animals, Karen! Therapeutic, even!"

Emma rocked on her heels as she waited patiently for them to stop speaking, the conversation turning into a friendly yelling match as Foggy stalked across the room to peer out the window.

"Excuse me-" she tried, cut off by Foggy's boisterous ranting.

"And besides, he's managed well enough, right?" Foggy asked his secretary.

"How about we worry about getting a proper sign on your door instead of taping up a piece of cardboard, okay?" Karen gave him a laugh before turning her attention to Emma and Mr. Gold, "Now, would you like to take a seat in the other room? It might take a minute for M-"

The door banged open and in walked a tall young man in a gray suit that matched his partner's, with black loafers and a gray and blue striped tie that closely resembled Foggy's own. His brown hair was combed nicely, and Emma caught a whiff of aftershave and the look of stubble on his cheeks and chin, outlining pretty pink lips

"I'm here, sorry," The man apologized, his head turning in multiple directions at once as he muttered, "Geez, I could never get used to this…"

The four of them stood there, Karen and Foggy eyeing him warily as he ran his hands along the wall, . the light coming in from the door gave the man's sunglasses an opaque red tinge if he moved in a certain way. Grunting, they watched him slide his hand over a rather sharp piece of wood that jutted out of the doorframe, pulling his hand back abruptly.

"Shit!" he muttered, thumbing the injury on his palm, then to the guests, "I do apologize for my late arrival, an issue came up at home." Emma watched Foggy and Karen exchange glances.

"But Matt, you live alone," Foggy admonished, eyes brimming over with suspicion, "Are you hungover?" He shook his head.

Emma was well aware that as each minute passed Mr. Gold grew more agitated.

"Leave it to a douchebag like him to walk into work drunk and late, eh?" he muttered angrily. He tapped his cane on the floor, leaving small dents in the carpet. His fingers- covered in gold rings- ran over the top of his cane, the eagle head attached to the curve of the polished wood. The man cocked his head, facing their general direction.

"I may be blind, but my hearing is exquisite," he stated simply, cracking a smug smile, "So I'll pretend I didn't hear that."

Emma paled at this statement, Karen clapping a hand to her mouth. Foggy grimaced, eyeing Mr. Gold nervously. The man had a rather unhappy look about him, his rings tapping against the curve of his cane as the blind man said, "Foggy, can you help me?"

Foggy allowed him to grab his arm, the man's fingers digging into his clothes. Carefully, Foggy guided him around the office, allowing him to get a feel for the space they'd be using. After a few minutes, he let go, and allowed himself to stand in the center of the room, the sunlight hitting his face.

"Well, it's smaller than I expected," he stated.

"Matt-" Karen lolled her head in annoyance, jumping when Mr. Gold cut her off.

"Now that you've had your morning stroll can we please get down to business?" he snapped, "I have serious matters to attend to and I cannot be kept waiti-"

"Of course, of course," Matt said almost lazily, holding his hand out, "Foggy, if you don't mind." Once again, Foggy steered his friend in the right direction, Karen following anxiously with a clipboard against her chest. Emma stayed behind with her as she watched Rumplestiltskin follow the two men into a room.

Once Foggy helped Matt get into a chair, Karen pulled out chairs for both Emma and Mr. Gold, she herself leaning against a wall. Foggy took a seat next to his partner, pulling out a legal pad to prepare for a long session of writing. Emma took this chance to take in her surroundings. Like the lobby, there was a single window, and the floor had the same gray carpeting. The walls were painted a boring eggshell color, and they were sitting at another dinky table with uncomfortable metal folding chairs to sit on.

"I'm Matt Murdock and this is my partner, Foggy Nelson," Matt seemed to get right down to business, clasping his hands on the table in front of him, "How may we help you today?"

Emma leaned forward in her chair, brushing back her blond hair. She couldn't help but keep her mind on what Matt had said earlier. The thing about being blind. How would a blind man be able to help them? The savior could feel her heart beating rapidly in her chest, almost trying to break free of her ribcage. Matt cocked his head like a curious puppy, and although he still kept his glasses on, she thought his gaze was boring into her skin, dragging his initials on her body as if she were personal property, a piece of paper someone handed in for a grade.

"It seems you're nervous," he commented, "There's no need to be. We don't bite- at least, Foggy doesn't." Foggy chuckled at his joke, Emma following suit uncomfortably.

It took her a few minutes to open her mouth, "Um, I'm Emma Swan, and this is my grandpa-"

"You're lying."

Emma was taken aback, widening her eyes at him. Her temples throbbed, and she could feel her heartbeat getting louder and faster as each second passed. Shaking her head, she asked with disbelief, "Excuse me?"

Matt dragged his fingers along the table until his hand found Foggy's sleeve, "Foggy, could you and Karen maybe take a lunch break?" Now it was his friend's turn to stare at him with confusion.

"But Matt-" he began to protest.

"I need a new cane," Matt said bluntly, "Can you two go out and get me a new one? And feel free to take your time with lunch." Awkward nods were exchanged, and Emma soon found herself and Mr. Gold sitting alone in the room with this Matt Murdock, under his questioning eye. She could hear Karen and Foggy argue between themselves before they left, the slam of the door signaling their exit.

"Now," Matt cleared his throat, "tell me why you're in Hell's Kitchen."

Rumplestiltskin finally piped up, his voice gravelly and unsure (which was very unlike him, in Emma's mind): "Aren't you supposed to do this with your partner?" Matt grinned at them, revealing a two rows of perfectly white teeth. His glasses gleamed red, Emma shrinking at her reflection in the rounded pieces of glass. Birds twittered outside, small shadows flitting by into the room.

"I'd appreciate if you didn't tell me how to my job, Mr….?" Matt trailed off, waiting for a name. Rumple sighed, clicking his rings on the plastic tabletop.

"Swan," he answered, sending Emma a look of reassurance. She nodded, turning back to face the lawyer. "My name is Jonathan Swan."

A moment of silence.

"You're still lying to me."

Emma scoffed, shaking her head at him. She was practically leering at him as she accused, "There's no way you could know that, Mr. Murdock. I can assure you that this is my grandfather, and that's his name-"

"Heartbeat."

Emma licked her lips, "What?"

Matt jutted his chin at them, "You're heartbeat. I can tell when you're lying because of it."

"Just like you're superpower, eh, Miss Swan?" Rumple mumbled with humor, a smile cracking his ugly face. Emma was silent. She often considered her superpower to being able to tell when people were lying. She always knew by the face, how they held themselves when speaking. Little things like that.

So the fact that this man- this blind man- was able to tell the same thing by just a heartbeat was astounding. She sat there fuming, her lips turning down to frown deeply, lines wrinkling her forehead.

"If you were smart, you wouldn't have blown your cover," Matt said simply, shoulders hunching as he collected himself.

"It wouldn't have mattered, Mr. Murdock," Mr. Gold said with a sigh, "It seems you would have figured out anyway." Matt grinned that same grin from before, and Emma was unsure if there was any malicious intent behind it. Some bad karma.

"So it seems," he agreed, "but please, let's get back to business. Why are you here? In Hell's Kitchen?" Emma opened her mouth to answer until Matt raised a hand, "And don't say you're tourists. Tourists don't have heartbeats that can envy even a cheetah's speed. And cheetah's a pretty fast, wouldn't you say…."

Emma froze when he said her name. Her full name.

"Emma Swan?"

Now Emma can't remember if she introduced herself properly. Did she tell him her name? With her brain befuddling itself, she tried to choke out an answer, but nothing came. Matt's voice bought her back to reality, smooth and sharp like a razor's edge.

"Miss Swan, I understand that you aren't from New York. And I understand that you were lying about this man here being your grandfather. Now, before I do something i might regret, please explain to me what you're doing in Hell's Kitchen."

Mr. Gold laughed audibly. It was loud, scratchy like broken record. Little gasps of breath snuck in with each wheeze, his shoulders shaking.

"Is something funny, sir?" Matt asked, his shoulders tensing.

"You're blind!" he cackled, throwing his head back, "What is there that you of all people can do?!" Emma let a gasp escape her throat as she looked at her companion in horror. To Murdock, she attempted to apologize, stuttering out complete nonsense she knew wasn't going to get anywhere. Judging from Matt's face, he was not amused.

The table creaked as the lawyer got up, planting his hands frmly on the plastic. shoulders heaving with a sigh, he asked, "Miss Swan."

"Y-yes?" Emma managed to get out. His sunglasses were a menacing red color in the light. They reminded her of blood, with the bright crimson lenses and thin black arms.

"May I touch your face?"

Emma was hesitant at first, before leaning towards him, nodding even though she knew he couldn't see him. "Yeah, uh… sure, I guess."

Her breath hitched in her throat as she came into contact with rough skin and calloused fingers. His nails grazed the fat of her cheeks ever so slightly, and she felt phantom traces of him once he drew himself away, only to feel a weight gently pull at her hair. Emma could feel the scrutiny from Mr. Gold's glare as he watched, drumming hi fingers on the table impatiently as Matt's fingers traveled across the bridge of her nose, poking her temples and finally dragging slowly across her lips.

"You're a very beautiful woman, Miss Swan," he complimented her with a smile. Emma blushed, although she knew he couldn't see. The only other person to tell her that outright with such boldness was Killian, but she highly doubted the pirate captain was sober when he said it.

"Thank you, Mr. Murdock," she said quietly. The lawyer turned to Mr. Gold. Holding his hands out, he asked, "May I?"

Reluctantly, Mr. Gold stooped over to accomodate the man, shivering as soon as his nails graced his mottled skin. Seemingly, Matt sensed this, his hands having stopped to hover over Mr. Gold's lips. "You're nervous."

"And this is unnecessary," Mr. Gold retorted.

"Sir, what is the strongest part of the body?"

Emma was struck dumb by the question.

"What?" she interjected. Matt ignored her, lowering his hands from Mr. Gold's face. With Karen and Foggy having been gone for a few minutes now, an eerie silence befell the office, creaks and groans now audible in corners where they were not present a moment ago. Dragging her shoe against the carpet, Emma swung her legs idly under the table.

"No need to be nervous, sir," Matt said, adjusting his glasses so they were farther up the bridge of his nose, "It's just a question." Mr. Gold's adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.

"Is this a test?" he asked with uncertainty. Emma noticed his hand slide slowly into his pocket, rummaging around in the expensive silk material. Emma pursed her lips in disapproval. If he had bought magic to New York City, then they were in for a ton of trouble.

"Whatever that is you've grabbed in your pocket, please don't bother with it," Matt said suddenly, and Mr. Gold hesitantly removed his hand from his clothes, placing it out on the table in front of him. Green and blue veins decorated his sagging skin, creating spiderwebs on his knuckles that met at the base of his wrist. Liver spots decorated his fingers here and there, his nails a disgusting yellow color, although they were trimmed neatly. "Now, what is the strongest part of the body?"

Emma could practically see the gears turning in Mr. Gold's brain, his thought process overflowing with possible answers as he was practically stared down by the lawyer.

"I'd say the heart, no? Pumping blood all day, it definitely has it's work cut out for it," Mr. Gold finally answered after thinking for a good five minutes, a delighted grin pulling at his mouth. It was a good answer, Emma agreed. With all the veins in the body, the heart was bound to be doing the most work, right?

But why would a lawyer feel the need to ask such questions anyway?

SLAM!

Hands came raining down on the table, and Matt nearly spit at them when he opened his mouth. Emma heard the pinprick of a scratch caused by Mr. Gold's rings against the plastic of desk when he moved to lean backwards in his chair, just as surprised as she was.

"Wrong." Matt said matter-of-factly, "It's the mind."

The mind? Emma thought. That didn't make any sense!

"Now," Matt sniffed, wiping at his nose with his sleeve, "What is the body?" Mumbling to himself, Mr. Gold pushed himself out of his chair, getting prepared to leave, for "I don't have the time for this nonsense you absolute idiot-"

"Sit. Down." Matt ordered, his voice cutting through the air like steel. For a blind man, Emma had to admit he was very intimidating- and handsome, but that she would keep to herself. No reason for Killian to start getting jealous. In fact, as she looked at him, Matt looked a bit like Killian as well (it was most likely the hair though. Other than that they could pass as brothers, maybe distant cousins, even.) The chair creaked as Mr. Gold carefully lowered himself onto the hard metal, eyeing him cautiously.

Cracking his knuckles, Matt asked him again, "What is the body?"

"Skin and bone," Mr. Gold said, "A carrier for all our organs, our feelings- what the hell do you want me to say?!"

Matt splayed his fingers out on the table, the thin digits looking pale against the gray color painted on the desktop. His papers sat untouched to the side, and Emma noticed small raised dots on the pages, no traces of ink anywhere on the white.

"The body," Matt said, his voice low, "is a weapon. The mind controls the body, the body is a weapon, therefore humans are weapons."

That was deep, Emma decided. That was something she never thought of. Why would the body be a weapon? Clearing her throat, she spoke up, "But the body is a way for us to express ourselves, Mr. Murdock. Tattoos, piercings, clothes- hell, even sex. Our bodies are a way for us to love one another and ourselves-"

"When did this become a therapy session?" Mr. Gold quipped, annoyance hinging his tone. Emma knew this wasn't getting them anywhere, but they had to do something. Talking about this for a few minutes might help them escape quicker. Or so she hoped.

"-and to love one another. We use our bodies to love and express feelings," Emma ignored Mr. Gold's sarcasm, trying to distract Matt as best she could. She thought she could see his shoulders stiffen at the word "love."

Obviously, something happened. And she had struck a nerve as she finished, "What do you say to that? To love?"

A moment of silence from all parties. Then:

"Love is for crybabies," Matt grimaced, "feelings have no place in the one considered a weapon."

He let them sit quietly, contemplating what he said, Emma watching as he fixed the cuff of his suit jacket. She thought- no, she knew he was wrong. That was no way to think about someone, or anything.

But instead of arguing, she had to get back to the task at hand. To find Neal that was her real objective here. Sitting in an office in New York City talking about love didn't do her or Neal or Mr. Gold any deal of good. And it was a damn waste of this lawyers time as well, with his associate and secretary traipsing off to do who the hell knew what.

"So," Matt said, "Tell me what you're doing in my city."

Glancing at Mr. Gold she sighed. They were going to have to tell him sooner or later, right? Training her eyes on the red lenses, she said, "Alright. We're not from New York-"

"That much is obvious," Matt growled, upper lip twitching slightly.

"-we're from a town called Storybrooke," Emma ignored his comment, "It's in Maine. My name is Emma Swan, I swear. My friend here is called Mr. Gold." She paused, waiting for his reaction. She watched him cock his head in question, a sigh heaving his shoulders back as he tasted the air.

"Gold? Like those rings on his fingers?" he asked. Emma nodded, quickly saying, "Yeah. How'd you know they're gold?"

"The way they scratch the table, with that faint echo. The density in which it uses to fall against the plastic is a good indicator as well," Matt explained nonchalantly. "But do continue. I sense that there's something a little off about this whole situation."

There was a pause before he asked, "Am I right about that, Miss Swan?"

Gulping, Emma nodded, not bothering to recite a confirmation. The air seemed thick with torture, the weight of Matt's questions hanging over her head like one of those sledgehammers Roadrunner used on Wile E. Coyote in those cartoons Henry watched every Saturday morning.

"If that's the case," Matt said, breaking the silence, "then let's be frank with one another-"

"Mr. Murdock-" Mr. Gold made an attempt to cut into the conversation.

"-Either you tell me why you're here wasting my time or I call my associate and secretary to come and kick you out. We both know neither of our parties have time for this, and I have another client to attend to later this afternoon." Matt's voice was curt, Emma lowering her gaze as he spoke.

He was right. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, people had lives outside of her own. Here was a man trying to run a law firm by himself in New York City and she was wasting his time trying to spin tales of grandeur to get what she wanted. The birds from earlier ceased to sing, and the sun had gotten lower during her and Mr. Gold's stay, the office now covered in a mid-afternoon glow. The chair scraped the carpet as Matt stood up, using his hands to avoid bumping into the table. He staggered a bit as he caught her shoulder, off-guard about the level of her body with the table.

"Sorry, Miss Swan," he apologized in a low monotone, then louder, "Now, if you excuse me, I need to wait for my new cane. If you like you can wait with me and tell me what you're really doing in Hell's Kitchen, or go home and stop wasting my time." The ticking of a clock sounded in Emma's ear, and she glanced up to see a white circle with black dashes and numbers. The hands signaled that it was at least three o'clock in the afternoon. She didn't remember when they had arrived.

"How long a break did you give them?" Mr. Gold asked politely. Emma jumped in her chair; she forgot the old man had come with her to the office.

"About an hour or so," Matt replied.

"Then we have about an hour to kill," Mr. Gold said. Clearing his throat, he asked, "Do you know the story of Rumpelstiltskin?"

Emma was surprised to see Matt turn around, leaning against the wall for support. A languid smile crossed his face, and he slid down the wall until he sat with his back against it on the floor. It was rather unprofessional in Emma's mind, but at this point, it was their only option.

"I'm familiar with it, yes," Matt answered, "But I highly doubt that children's tale has anything to do with why you're here and sitting in my office right now." Mr. Gold cocked his head, an ugly smile pulling at his lips.

"Oh it does, dearie," the wizard said, "trust me on that one."

Emma sighed as Mr. Gold began to tell him the story, about magic and mischief, all the while waiting for the look of disbelief that was sure to come from this man that she so desperately needed help from.

Hopefully that look never came, but she would only be able to tell once the story was finished.