Inspired by/elements from Alias, but won't follow the storyline.


Emma feels the ache in her hand as it begins to cramp, but she can't stop the forceful pressing on the pen as it flies across the page, rage fueling her words. She is aware of the curious eyes on her, evaluating to determine her motives. She doesn't care. Suspicion is common in her world of secrets.

And yet she had been deceived for seven years.

Usually her untrusting nature kept her protected. Emma learned early in her life not to rely on others so when she was approached by the CIA- well, who she thought was the CIA- she was already practiced in reading a situation, using her lie detector on those who conceal the truth. It proved to be an asset during her training to become a secret agent.

"Miss Swan, is there anything you need? You've been in here a while now. Perhaps a glass of water?"

She doesn't look up at the man that has been chaperoning her for the past few hours in this small office somewhere within the Los Angeles branch of the CIA (the real CIA with a seal on the floor and everything. She checked). He has kind eyes and an easy smile, she noticed this when others filtered in and out of the room, but she really isn't in the mood to make friends.

"More paper. I'm about to run out."

"Of course." Within a minute she has a fresh stack of sheets to fill with the betrayal of SD-6. A group she thought was a covert division of the CIA working to eradicate the criminal network of someone that no one knew the real identity of- known only as Hades. Hades, lord of the underworld. It was certainly fitting.

Hades had connections all over the world and was the source of all types of maleficence. His control was vast and he was greatly feared even by those who did his bidding.

Still, he was a ghost.

Emma had spent years working to undo his evil. Years trying to discover who he was so that he could be brought to justice. She had been so proud of everything she had done. She thought she was serving her country. She thought she was making the world a safer place. After growing up alone and then the heartbreak that nearly broke her, she thought she had found where she belonged, where she was useful.

The door clicks open and she feels a new presence enter the room behind her. "Hello, Robin. I was told to report here by Gold. I suppose it's my privilege to take over babysitting duty?"

She rolls her eyes, but doesn't bother to turn and see the man who clearly feels this job is beneath him based on the annoyance laced within his joke. He apparently feels the need to chat, unlike the other CIA workers she encountered, and so Emma utilizes her usually very effective tuning-out skills and continues to pour all of her knowledge onto the paper. She knows this statement could provide crucial information to the agency and help bring down the group that betrayed her. Accuracy is vital when they verify or they could think she is a triple agent.

She focuses her mind on the page and the task.

But it doesn't work. Emma can't stop hearing his accented voice. He remains conversing with the other agent and it throws her concentration. She has heard many British accents in her work, his she deduces is real because everyone she has met today works in the office and is not trained for the field (the type of work where you might need to fake an accent), but there is something about his voice. As much as she tries to block it out, it's very enticing.

Irritation flares up within her as the words no longer flow freely onto the page. She has a serious assignment and this idiot won't stop discussing the latest baseball game.

"Listen, I know you're speaking about matters of the utmost importance, when else can you talk about the Angels other than right now while I'm suppose to be providing your agency with intel on a criminal organization? But I'm thinking it might be imperative for me to actually write accurate information in this case, so perhaps we should make this a quiet zone?" As she finishes she turns in her chair with an icy stare to finally face the man and ensure her words have the correct impact.

When she lays eyes on him though, she can feel her impeccably trained body, which normally reacts without any sign on the surface, betray her. Her eyebrows lift slightly at the unexpected sight and her stare loses its sternness as she takes him in.

He is one of the most attractive men she has ever seen. And she has been to all corners of the world. Something about him stirs an unidentifiable feeling within her as he casually leans against the wall with his piercing blue eyes and a face that would inspire countless artists to fill a canvas.

She can see the minor shock etched on that face, but she has a feeling that the cause may be more about her own looks that he most likely hadn't anticipated than her sudden outburst.

What is wrong with you? She berates herself mentally for the shallow thoughts and perplexing pull she feels towards him since it has momentarily distracted her, and resumes the chilly glare meant to put him in his place.

The other agent, Robin Hood, responds with a repentant expression. She watches as he gives her a nod in apology and then a small smile flickers on his face when he glances at the irritating male model before he turns and makes his way out of the room.

Leaving just the two of them.

Her attention shifts back to him and the look on his face is anything but repentant. He is amused. One of his eyebrows has arched and he bites the corner of his bottom lip in a crooked smile. He practically purrs, "Well, babysitting duty just got more enjoyable."

What. An. Ass.

She huffs in exasperation, "Lovely. Just what I needed to top off my hellish month- an annoying flirt."

His head tilts and he looks at her. Really looks at her, as though he is reading her and trying to decipher what lies beneath. And she feels exposed for the first time in…well, ever.

Emma shifts uncomfortably in her seat as a feeling of vulnerability, one that hasn't surfaced since she learned how to compartmentalize and hide so many facets of herself for the job, overtakes her. She watches as the cockiness melts from his demeanor and transforms into one of understanding.

"Apologies, lass. I had minimal knowledge of what to expect from the walk-in. Well, from you. I didn't consider what you're going through."

It sounds genuine. She looks for some sort of tell in his eyes, something that would show her he is being insincere or that he has some ulterior motive, but finds nothing in his open expression.

He pushes off the wall and makes his way to the chair on the opposite side of the table where she sits. "The name is Killian Jones."

She nods, accepting his apology.

Intending to get back to work she directs her attention to the pile of papers filled with her life, but she doesn't pick up the pen. "Emma Swan."

"Pleasure to meet you, Swan." She peeks up to see the smile she heard in his voice and notices that he is eyeing the mountainous stack. "You know you don't have to write a book? They are only expecting a few pages."

There's light teasing in the tone of his voice and she knows he is just trying to be friendly, but she can't help the steely reply. "The betrayal wouldn't be covered in just a few pages."

And he is studying her again. The words come out gentle, like he knows the cracks that are ingrained deep within her, hidden beneath a tough exterior. Cracks that threaten to shatter her completely. "Of course not. I understand the need for revenge. It can be so powerful that it takes over your whole life."

There's a veiled pain in his eyes and she knows he truly understands. She can see that there is so much more to him and she feels the strong urge to unearth it all. But he continues and the flash of hurt disappears into the depths as he confidently assures her, "You will succeed in bringing them down."

"How do you know that?" Emma's voice has a slight waver as the suppressed emotions and the desperate need for that to be the truth affect her. It's embarrassing how raw she sounds and she wants to look down, look anywhere really, but she can't tear her eyes away because for some reason he thinks she can do it.

"You don't look like someone who would accept failure as an option." Emma can't resist the tug at the corner of her lips that forms a small smile. He gives a throaty chuckle, "Plus, if what I've seen in the short time I've been in your presence is any indication, than you are a force to be reckoned with. I'm assuming SD-6 will be running for the hills when they realize you're coming for them."

The grin only grows on her lips, but she feels the need to correct him. Defend those who still remain in the dark. "You know they aren't all bad. Only those in charge and the security department know the truth from what I discovered. Most think what I thought for years- that they are working for a top-secret sect of the CIA. We all thought we were the good guys."

A fresh wave of anger washes over her as she thinks about all of the people she works with who put their lives on the line because they believe they are serving a noble cause.

Killian leans in, his interest in what she is saying apparent. "So there are only a few that know SD-6 is part of the faction that belongs to Hades?"

It goes against her closed nature, but she wants someone to hear her story and understand she wasn't easily made into a pawn that they used. It isn't like he wouldn't be able to read it all in her statement anyway she reasons and perhaps it would be beneficial to have someone at the CIA on her side when they decide if she is being truthful.

So she tells him.

Emma recounts how she was recruited when she attended the university. A man who worked in US Intelligence approached Emma and told her that she matched a profile. After initially refusing, she met with whom she was led to believe was the CIA and she decided to join. She signed dozens of non-disclosure agreements and began as an entry-level worker, but soon transitioned into training as a spy after excelling in their tests.

It was easy for her. It felt right.

That's when she first heard about SD-6- or Section Disparu, "the section which has disappeared". She was told it was a black ops division funded by the CIA's black budget, which is why it didn't operate through Langley.

When the transition was complete she was taken to SD-6 headquarters, which turned out to be in the same building as the bank that was her cover job. She advanced quickly from deskwork at SD-6 and within the first year began reconnaissance missions as assignments.

"The retrieval and study of intelligence, both military and industrial, throughout the world that is critical to the superiority and survival of the United States of America." The words that she once said with pride now turn bitter in her mouth. "That's the purpose of the division, the party line to have all the duped employees feel like they are benefitting their country. They taught CIA protocol. It was all by the book so there wasn't an inkling of doubt that it wasn't the real deal. Nothing seemed off. Their main objective for years has been focusing on Hades and his network because he has had so much power for so long."

She thought about the missions where she retrieved a weapon or intelligence that Hades' criminal organization and his competition were after. How intercepting it and keeping it out of their corrupt hands provided so much satisfaction. Now she knows she was just doing Hades' dirty work and it makes her stomach turn.

She tries to keep her voice even, but she can hear the fury and shame as the words come out of her mouth. "It turns out I was working for the very man I thought I was working against."

Killian had remained silent this whole time. She could see he was taking it all in and empathizing with her anger. "You didn't know. How could you?"

Her voice becomes shaky as the raw feelings fight to come out, the ones that she hasn't allowed herself to actually feel, instead masking them with her hatred and anger. "I should have figured it out. I should have asked more questions, and done some digging earlier on. If I had then I could have avoided…" She swallows hard. "He wouldn't be dead if I had done my job."

Emma takes a deep breath in and tries to put the lid back on the overflowing jar of emotions within her. She can't have this breakdown here. Right now she has a mission. She needs to get the CIA on her side so she can destroy the people that used her and killed one of the few people in this world who cares about her.

Cared about her.

Killian doesn't push. She expects to hear him ask in that deep, soothing voice who they took from her, how she was finally able to discover the truth. Instead, he gives her time and let's her deal with the war between keeping her composure and allowing the pain and heartache to be felt.

She knows that the CIA will have to have all this information, but it was so much easier to stay detached when she was writing it down. She kept it factual and impersonal. Saying it out loud is another story.

After a few minutes of silence he finally speaks, "It wasn't your fault."

Logically, she knows it's true. She knows who's to blame, but she still needed to hear it because the what-ifs have been tormenting her, building a mass of guilt inside her.

What if she realized he was tailing her that one day after he began to suspect something was fishy about her bank job? He had been worried she was in trouble and being a detective he was able to act on his suspicions.

What if she had gone to him and explained why she lied about her life, why she kept being a CIA agent from him instead of giving him his space to process? She wouldn't have come back from her mission in Italy with a drunken voicemail from him explaining that he understood and it was fine. She wouldn't have gone to his apartment and found his lifeless body. There was so much blood and then realization that this was done by the people she worked for, the signs of the execution all there. He was murdered because he knew about SD-6 and was a liability. She knew that SD-6 were not the good guys when an innocent life was so easily taken.

And the biggest what-if of them all, what if she had never let him into her life? She is poison and isn't meant to have anyone care for her. He would still be alive if he never knew her.

"Hades and all who knowingly work for him are the ones to blame, Emma. They will be brought to justice. This." Killian's right hand moves across the table and lands on the papers in front of her. "Everything you know about them will be their undoing."

He is giving her an out. Letting her know that she doesn't have to finish her story or tell him about the death of one of the few friends she has outside of her secret life. She doesn't have to expose the pain. Emma can just go back to her mission, finish her statement, and keep the memories to herself for a while longer.

But for some reason telling this man she doesn't know, this man who she feels connected to even though she knows nothing about him past his name, makes her feel safe. Like she can handle the weight of her problems.

"His name was Graham. One of the few friends I have. He was always there for me, but being a great detective allowed him to see the cracks in my cover and he eventually found out." Her voice had cracked and she could only look at her hands in her lap as a few silent tears tore through her resistance. "He was killed because of it. I confronted the head of SD-6, Peter Malcolm, and he confirmed it was their doing. He justified it as the need to contain secret information despite him wishing there could have been another way. But I could see past what he was saying. I have a sense, a talent, for lies and it finally worked with him. Beneath his words, I could see there was something else going on. So I set out to find what it was."

Memories of her own personal operation were fresh in her mind and easily detailed as she had only returned the day before. Her journey led her to a crime syndicate in Taiwan on a vendetta against SD-6 and that's were she discovered the truth. Her enemies knew more about her organization than she did. Emma was able to infiltrate and take down the group, bringing the disk they were using to collect blackmail on leaders of SD-6 to Peter Malcolm.

She had to stand before him like she didn't want to kill him with her bare hands. She hid the disgust and convinced him with the gift of the disk that she was not going to defect. She was still loyal to the "CIA" and had only needed time to understand they were in the right.

"He still thinks I'm unaware of the truth and on top of that he was grateful enough to give me a few weeks off after I gave him the disk, which 'could have compromised our whole operation in bringing down Hades'. He told me to take time to recover and I came directly here." She tries to cover up a wince at the surge of pain in her upper left arm where she had yet to attend to a nasty cut she got from her activities in Taiwan. Emma is sore all over, but had felt numb to the pain when she was distracted. Talking about the events where she got her wounds made them demand to be acknowledged.

"You're hurt. I hadn't noticed before." His features alter from the sympathetic and rapt listener to concern. So he hadn't missed the wince then. She was finding this Jones fellow surprisingly observant. "Is it a cut?"

"It's no big deal. I'm used to it." She shrugs her shoulders and masks the ache that flares with the movement. She was fine.

Emma picks up the pen, "Plus, I have things to deal with."

His eyebrows lift in disbelief and he gets up from his seat. It only takes him a moment to walk across the room and through the door, shutting it behind him and leaving her alone in her surprise. She waits a few moments for him to return, but he doesn't so she works on concluding her statement.

She can't help but be astonished that he left her alone. He doesn't know for sure that she isn't pretending- she could have the perfect opportunity now to go bug the place or steal information.

He must have told someone to watch the door or something because there is no way he already trusts her. But she has the feeling he didn't.

The last line of her statement is being written when he walks back in the room she estimates about ten minutes later. She observes out of the corner of her eye that he is carrying a bag he places on the table. From it he brings out a water bottle and painkillers putting them in front of her. He then stares at her expectantly.

She doesn't move to take the pills despite the aches. Instead, her eyes narrow as she looks for his motives. What does he get from this?

His eyebrows lift pointedly and he motions with his eyes to the pills. She finally relents when she realizes the discomfort is only growing and she really wants to ease the soreness. As she pops the pills in her mouth and takes a swig of water, his smile is definitely one of satisfaction. He again reaches into the bag for more.

What is he, Mary Poppins?

This time he brings out material to clean and bandage her concealed wound.

"It's really fine. You don't need to do all of this."

Killian shakes his head a little, "Swan, don't be stubborn. You're about to start a journey to take down a giant evil and it won't do any good if you're falling apart. You must take care of yourself."

She rolls her eyes, knowing that he is right. She can't continue this numbing disconnect from everything. So she lifts the sleeve of her shirt to expose the cut that she got in moving away from a dagger's path to her heart.

He sits in the chair beside her leaning in to assess the damage and his proximity has an immediate effect on her. She can feel her heart speed up a fraction as he looks from the wound to her, their faces so close she can see the small scar on his cheek and the different shades of blue blended in his irises.

"Luckily it isn't deep enough to warrant a trip to the hospital, but I will have to wrap it as Band-Aids won't be sufficient." He reaches across his body with his right hand to retrieve the materials to clean the wound and she becomes conscious of the fact that he has been avoiding using his left hand this whole time.

Nothing seems outwardly wrong with it, but he hasn't moved it at all.

"This may be a bit cold." His arm brushes against hers and the moment he touches her, she feels this overwhelming desire to pull back. He is affecting her too much. She has never experienced this and she has had to invade the personal space of, and been invaded by, many attractive men in her line of work. It feels as though her body is waking up for the first time after a long slumber.

He is so gentle in the cleaning process that she barely feels the sting from the damaged flesh. She watches him as he disinfects and applies antiseptic, noticing the way his eyebrows furrow in concentration.

She has got to get a hold of herself. She needs this silence to end so her mind isn't free to wander. "Is your hand okay?"

A small chuckle escapes him as he reaches for the roll of gauze. "Ah. I was wondering if you would catch that."

"You don't have to tell me. I shouldn't have asked." She observes him bring the roll to his mouth, which he uses to aid in unrolling the bandaging with his good hand. A simple act, but combined with his eyes staring into hers as he does it, she feels the heat of a blush work its way across her cheeks.

"I don't mind. My hand will be fine, it's just recovering from an incident that left it temporarily paralyzed. I'm doing physical therapy and regaining more and more access, see?" He brings up the aforementioned hand and she sees the limited function it has, but it does move at least. "The doctors say with time it will heal completely. Unfortunately, the injury means that I can't do what I was trained for as it would be a problem in the field." He adds an 'if you know what I mean" kind of wink letting her know exactly what he means.

Now it makes sense why he is so unlike the by-the-book, stiff workers she has seen all day. Why he truly seems to understand her world. He isn't a desk agent. He's a spy.

She gives him a sympathetic smile, as she comprehends the annoyance in his earlier joke at having to babysit. When you are use to action and risking your life, this kind of work seems mundane. He must be going crazy not able to be out in the field. "I'm sorry."

"So was I. Until it led me to meeting you." He doesn't give her time to respond as he brings the final bandaging up towards the abrasion. He places one end on her arm and uses his immobile hand to point to it, finally making her tear her eyes from his. "Would you mind?"

Emma catches his meaning and holds that end in place as he wraps the bandage securely. His touch is filled with tenderness and it soothes her. She already knows she will miss it when he finishes. She can feel the concern, like he is trying to treat not only her physical wounds, but also those that cover her heart. It's as though he knows how much this means to her, being taken care of, even if she would never admit it to herself.

She recognizes this is a dangerous road. This could lead to caring and she can't have that because she knows what having people care about her does. She wants to run away, she should run away, but she doesn't.

When she leaves today it will be the last time she sees Killian Jones and there will no longer be a risk. This thought comforts the anxiety from the thoughts, but also brings disappointment. If only she could feel like a normal person, not someone who keeps people out for their safety and her own.

If only her world wasn't so damn complicated.

Finding the silence risky again, she tells him her statement is ready for authentication.

"Brilliant. Then I shall arrange safe transport to make sure no one from SD-6 discovers you were here." He fastens the end of the bandage and finally removes the touch that she simultaneously craves and fears. "After it is all verified, Gold estimates a couple weeks, then you will be contacted and detailed about meetings with your handler. That's when the work to dismantle Hades' network will officially begin."

Killian looks proudly at the finished product on her arm, "Teamwork." He smiles wide, "Looks like we work well together."

"Yes, it's too bad we won't have an opportunity to do it again. It was nice to meet you though and I hope your hand heals quickly."

"You think now that I found you I'm going to leave you? Not when Swan and Jones is such an excellent name for a duo." He cracks a grin excited about his secret. "Haven't you guessed who has been assigned as your handler?"

Realization hits.

Mixed feelings.

"I see."

"Calm down, love." He teases in response to her monotone reply. "No need to make such a scene. They had to assign me to something while I'm out of commission."

Half of her mouth lifts in a small smile. She really can't help it around him (she is going to have to fix that). He gets up and collects the excess supplies placing it all back into the bag. "Well I'll make the preparations for your ride." He walks towards the door and says with utter confidence, "I'll see you soon."

It comes out with an edge because she knows that he can't possibly trust that she will be confirmed and work with him, he can't know she won't betray him, "You don't know that. This could be just a trick, a ploy to get a mole in the CIA. You can't know that I'm good."

He turns, looks her straight in the eye and says with no hesitation before walking out of the room,

"Yes, I can."