AN: This idea has been ratting around in my brain for literally months. It was more or less inspired by the TV show Arrow and, to some extent, Batman (because Batman is awesome, okay). Anyway, here's to hoping I can pull this off lol.
(Un-beta'ed)
Emma Nolan crouched near the edge of the building as she carefully surveyed the surrounding area. The man she'd been tasked to apprehend had given her the slip three times already that evening and she was, to say the least, aggravated. She hated tracking marks through this ramshackle part of the city; too many places to hide. Several years prior, there had been a particularly devastating earthquake that had resulted in the area being cordoned off with the intention of a government-funded reconstruction but, naturally, the deal had fallen through. This resulted in several blocks of abandoned buildings and hundreds of displaced people. The area (referred to by most as the Ruins) had since been reopened and had been unofficially "claimed" by the thieves and lowlifes of the city, including one Ignotus Gold, the city's most ruthless (and untouchable) crime boss.
Needless to say, this was no place for a cop.
Not that one would ever come here in the first place, she thought in mild annoyance.
No one other than you, that is, reminded a voice in the back of her mind.
Emma wasn't the typical Storybrooke police officer. Save for a handful, most were in Gold's pocket, making justice in this city mean something other than what Emma had been raised to believe. Her older brother David was the Captain of her precinct and while she knew he would rather die than work for someone like Gold, she also knew how things in this city worked, had seen it unfold before her very eyes during her few years with SBPD. David carefully straddled the line between right and wrong and she knew that there had to have been times where he'd, for whatever reason, chosen to look the other way.
Perhaps it made her naïve or idealistic, but Emma wasn't about to let someone guilty walk free.
Not after what had happened to her mother.
It was these convictions that resulted in Emma's presence in the Ruins this evening.
"I don't see him, Jones, are you sure he went this way," she quietly asked her partner (who was currently three blocks south of her in their non-descript surveillance van).
"Of course, I'm sure, Swan. When have I ever steered you wrong?" Jones responded defensively.
"I told you not to call me that," Emma replied gruffly, ignoring his question entirely.
She registered the sound of computer keys clicking as he retorted, "Ah, but it suits you so well. I've yet to see anyone kick someone's arse as gracefully as you manage to."
Emma rolled her eyes but said nothing, instead choosing to carefully scan the street for their target once more.
"Yeah, well, it makes it sound like I'm some kind of, I don't know, superhero or something. I hate it," she replied petulantly.
"I think the black, leather get up and the mask do that all on their own, love," Jones answered with a chuckle, still typing away.
Emma was about to reply back with a witty quip, when a sudden movement in the alley across the street made her pause.
Gotcha, she thought with a smirk as she moved back from the lip of the building to the ladder that lead below and began to climb down.
"Target reacquired," she whispered into her ear piece as she silently made her descent, "Prepare to standby."
"Be careful, Swan," Jones cautioned, his lilting voice laced with a gentleness he seemed to reserve just for her.
"Always am," she said quietly, ignoring her butterflies (that were most definitely due to her current situation and most certainly did not have anything to do with her partner).
When she'd reached the ground, Emma checked her belt for her handcuffs, thankful that she hadn't left them in the van as she had on their last job. Readying herself, she crept to the edge of the passage, allowing the shadows to cover her as she set her sights on the man across from her; he was tall, of lean build, with reddish-brown hair and blue eyes. His name was August Booth. He'd been arrested a year ago on a kidnapping charge but, at the time, the evidence the detectives had against him was somehow "lost" on its way to the property room; they'd been forced to let him walk. Hours after his release, he'd disappeared and hadn't been seen since.
Until now.
She watched as Booth nervously fidgeted in his hiding place and when he turned away from her, Emma seized her chance. She darted suddenly from her place in the shadows, her eyes locked on Booth. She wove herself around the few obstacles in her path (mostly debris that was never cleared after the earthquake) and was almost on him when he turned again, spotted her, and took off down the alleyway.
Not again, you bastard, she thought resolutely.
She followed as he shot around the back of a building and made a beeline for him as he clambered up a nearby ladder, Emma hot on his heels. She scrambled up as quickly as she could, watching as he scrabbled over the edge of the building when he reached the top. Emma grumbled to herself and prepared for the ambush she was sure to receive when she reached the top.
The second her head cleared the top of the ladder, she knew she was right to assume the worst as she was greeted with the sight of Booth breathing heavily and wielding a pipe he'd presumably found discarded on the roof. He swung the pipe at her seconds later, giving Emma almost no time to duck away. Luckily she'd still had both hands on the railings and managed to steady herself when her boot-clad feet slipped off the rungs in her haste to not be bludgeoned to death.
She must've screamed, because suddenly Jones' frantic voice was filtering through her ear piece, "Emma, are you alright?"
"I'm fine," she said breathlessly after steading herself, "Just a bit startled."
Jones didn't reply as Emma started up the ladder again, this time arming herself with one of the expandable batons she occasionally brought on missions (normally she just used her fists but you could never be too careful). Booth came at her again when she reached the top but Emma was ready for him, blocking his hit with the baton in her right hand. She missed the look of mild surprise on his face as she used the rod to shove his pipe away from herself. Booth stumbled back as he lost his balance and Emma, seizing what might very well be her only chance, hastened up the rest of the ladder and onto the roof, now brandishing both of her batons.
Time seemed to slow, if not come to a halt completely, as they faced each other, respective weapons at the ready.
"Finally ready to stop running, Booth?" she asked calmly, prepared for any sudden moves on his part.
Emma watched as Booth studied her, clearly caught off guard by her ensemble.
"You're her," he responded, voice laced with disbelief.
"Yep," Emma said, quirking an eyebrow at him, "And I'm going to need you to come with me."
This seemed to shake him out of whatever awe her appearance had set upon him, his shocked expression transforming into his usual cocky one as his eyes scanned her from head to toe.
"You're not a cop," he stated simply as he studied her.
"Not tonight, anyway," said an amused Jones, causing Emma to smirk.
"No, I'm not. Hence the mask," she replied sarcastically while gesturing toward her face.
Returning her smirk with one of his own, Booth cocked his head, twirled the pipe he still held in his hand and said, "Well then, I don't have to do anything you say, do I?"
"No, you don't," she agreed as she threateningly twirled her batons, "But it'd be in your best interest if you did."
He inched toward her slightly, smirk still planted on his handsome face, "Yeah? Why's that?"
Emma's eyes flashed at his taunt, "Trust me when I tell you, you don't want to find out."
Apparently that was all Booth had needed to hear as he chose that moment to make his attack. He moved toward her suddenly in an attempt to catch her off guard, his weapon at the ready. In lieu of deflecting his blow as she had before, Emma simply took a step back. He mirrored her steps and made to attack her again, clearly aggravated that she wasn't fighting back. Emma wasn't averse to fighting (she rather enjoyed it, truth be told, hence the vigilante act) but this guy had already outsmarted her more than once and she didn't fancy the idea of fighting him blindly. So, she bided her time, studied him (and the fact that his anger was causing his moves to become sloppy was also a plus).
A few more checks and Emma decided that she'd seen enough.
When he came at her again, he'd aimed the sharp side of his pipe at her midsection (admittedly a much larger target than her head). Emma caught his weapon between her crossed batons before quickly twisting it away from herself. She used the rod in her left hand to whack him on the ear (pain was always an effective distraction) and then used the one in her right to smack the hand clenched around the pipe. Booth dropped it on reflex and she wasted no time kicking it out of his reach. Before he could recover, Emma threw her shoulder into him, hitting him in the chest, and used her body weight to knock him to the ground. Once down, she quickly grabbed his right arm and dug her foot into his neck in an effort to keep him subdued.
"I told you that you didn't want to find out," she said, twisting his arm enough for it to be painful but not enough to break it.
Booth howled in pain as he futilely attempted to push her off with his free arm. Emma dug her boot into his neck a bit more as a warning. The move stymied his cries of pain (as well as his useless flailing) long enough for her to crouch down and cuff him. Once bound, she allowed his arms to drop but kept her foot on him as a precaution.
"Got him," she panted as she caught her breath, "Let's make this drop and head home."
How Emma got him down the ladder without both of them falling to their deaths, she would never know but ten minutes later, there she was trying to stuff him (now blindfolded) into the back of hers and Jones' van.
"Need a little help, Swan?" Jones asked as he casually leaned against the side of the van, amusement lacing his tone.
Emma glared wordlessly at him as she tried once more to shove Booth into the vehicle. Jones chuckled and strutted toward her.
"Alright, alright, no need to beg," he teased, waving her off before he roughly grabbed Booth by the hair and pulled his head back. Emma threw him another glare as the action caused the man to yelp in pain.
"What the hell are you doing, we're trying to be stealthy here," she scolded, moving toward him, "This is why you're banished to the van."
Jones huffed a laugh and smirked at her, "No, love, I'm 'banished' to the van because I'm the only one that can hack into the security feeds."
The glare she threw in response caused Jones' smirk to widen. Emma rolled her eyes and motioned toward the open (and still empty) van. "Let's take this show on the road, shall we?"
Chortling in victory, Jones shoved Booth toward the open doors and watched gleefully as he tripped and fell inside with an "oomph" before quickly shutting the doors. Smirk intact, he turned toward Emma and raised an eyebrow.
"Was that really necessary, Killian?" she asked, her jaw clenched, hands finding her hips.
"Aw, you're no fun, Swan," he responded, his handsome face contorting into an overly dramatic pout, "Why should you be the only one that gets to indulge in a spot of violence?"
They stared at each other wordlessly for a moment before the phone in Killian's pocket vibrated loudly, effectively disrupting the moment.
Emma sighed and pulled a hand through her hair, averting her gaze as Jones pulled out his phone.
"It's a text from Red," he said simply, throwing her a glance.
Emma nodded and made her way to the driver's side of the van. When she and Killian were both situated, Emma shifted the van into drive and silently steered the vehicle toward their drop point (the Toll Bridge on the north side of the city).
Red was already waiting for them when they arrived. Emma quickly checked to make sure her mask was still in place before she turned to Killian in the passenger seat.
"Stay."
Killian threw her an aggravated look, "I'm not a bloody dog, Swan."
Emma only raised an eyebrow at him before she opened the door and exited the van. She made quick work of getting Booth out and hauling him over to Red's black, generic SUV. As she neared, the back right window rolled down to reveal the woman herself. Ruby Lucas (nicknamed "The Big Bad Wolf" by the papers) was Storybrooke's toughest prosecutor. She was clever, beautiful, and ruthless. Ruby was the only attorney in the entire city with the guts to take on Gold and his thugs, so she and Emma (or rather, "The Black Swan," as the papers called her) made an arrangement: Emma would help Ruby track down evidence or witnesses (such as slime bags like Booth) that she needed for some of her tougher cases and in exchange, Ruby would help Emma take down Gold when the time came (that time being when she had the evidence she needed).
"You're late," Red said flatly.
"Apologies, he put up more of a fight than I had anticipated," Emma replied sharply.
She and Red momentarily shared a wordless look before the latter broke away and instructed the man in the passenger seat to help with "the package."
Fifteen minutes later, Emma watched as Red's car drove off into the darkness. She sighed in relief and walked back to the van.
"Just another day in paradise," Emma muttered cynically as she sat down in the driver's seat and took off her mask.
"We'll get there, Swan," Killian said softly.
Emma regarded him from beneath her lashes as she fiddled with the strap on the mask. He had that look, the one he got when he was reliving some deep, dark part of his past. He must've been thinking about her, the woman he'd lost, Milah. Emma could practically feel the sorrow rolling off of him.
"We will, Killian," she said finally, looking him straight in the eye with all the conviction she could muster, "I promise."
Killian smiled and nodded, scratching the space behind his ear (something she knew he did when he was feeling uneasy).
"What's say we get home, yeah?" Killian said, stealing a glance at his watch, "I don't know about you, but my shift starts bright and early in, oh look at that, three hours."
Emma chuckled and started the engine.
"Please, you IT nerds have much more forgiving schedules than us officers," she teased, pulling their van away from the bridge.
"Us IT 'nerds' make your job a hell of a lot easier and you know it," Killian retorted playfully.
"Yeah, yeah," Emma said airily, steering the van out of the Ruins and toward the heart of the city.
Twenty minutes later, their van was parked and covered in a parking garage down the road from their base in the abandoned Storybrooke clock tower and Killian and Emma, now in street clothes, were walking down the sidewalk toward her car.
"You did good tonight, Swan," Killian said, affectionately nudging her shoulder with his fist.
"Aw, thanks, Jones," Emma replied facetiously, "As usual I couldn't have done it without you and your awesome van-sitting skills."
Killian smiled and rolled his eyes at her, a serious look crossing his face suddenly, "Very funny. I mean it, though, you really held your own. It's been a while since you went on a job without Mary Margaret as back up. I only wish I could help you the way she does."
Emma stopped walking and turned to him, "I don't need you be Mary Margaret, Killian," she began sincerely, "I need you to be…well, you. I know I make a lot of jokes, but you really are a valuable member of this team, and for more than just your tech skills. You do know that, don't you?"
Killian's face was unreadable as his eyes searched her face (for what, she didn't know, but she hoped he found it).
"I do know that, Swan, and I'm happy to help in any way I can but…you know that the team isn't the only reason I'm still here, right? It might've started out that way but there's something…else now. Something more." Killian averted his gaze momentary and began to fidget. He swallowed and earnestly met her eyes, "Do you understand what I'm saying, Emma?"
Emma wordlessly held his gaze, struggling to keep her face as impassive as possible (because she did know what he was saying, and God help her, she wasn't ready to acknowledge it out loud just yet).
"I should get home," she said finally, leaving his question unanswered.
Disappointment clouded Killian's features as he tore his gaze from hers and nodded. "'Course, Swan," he said softly, "Drive safe."
"I'll see you in a few hours, Jones," she said, forcing a lightness into her tone that she didn't feel.
Killian smiled solemnly, clearly not fooled, "Sure thing. Good night, Emma."
"'Night, Killian."
Emma sat in her car for a moment and watched Killian turn and walk away in her side mirror. She scrubbed her hands tiredly over her face and sighed. She could admit to herself in the quietness of her mind that there was something between her and Killian but until their job was done, until Gold was brought to justice for his crimes, Emma couldn't bring herself to let anything compromise their mission. With that thought, she started her car and began her drive home.