It is, as it turns out, worse than Killian expected. This comes as no particular surprise, especially given that Emma Swan is involved, but of all the possible demands for her to make, this one is one of the worst.
"You are not coming along."
"I told you." She's all nonchalance in the semi-darkness, casually leaning against the side of her car. She looks half-defensive, half-alluring, and he can't decide which is the more dangerous. "I'm the only one who can identify it. You really want to risk wasting your time on a fake?"
He grits his teeth. Of all the ways he would have wanted to carry out this mission, teaming up with Emma Swan is all the way at the bottom of the list.
At least, so he tells himself. In fact, it's far too intriguing a prospect to rank anywhere near the bottom. But that's where it should be.
"Look," Emma says, shifting towards him a little. "You need me. You can lock your ego away for a few days, can't you?"
"It's not my ego that's at stake here," he tells her. "It's the mission."
"Right, the really important box," Emma says, not looking very impressed. "What's that encryption key for, anyway?"
"It's not an encryption key."
She frowns. "What?"
He frowns, too. "Why the bloody hell would one keep an encryption key in a box?"
"I don't know, I—" she shakes her head. "So what is it?"
He hesitates. He shouldn't tell her. Classified, and all that.
Then again, the last time he told her the truth, she saved his life.
"It's a serum," he says. "We aren't sure what it does on its own, but we do know that it's key to Zelena's efforts to develop some sort of mind-control virus."
He thinks that he sees a stricken look cross her face, just for a moment, but it's hard to tell in the dim light of the street lamps some distance away. Before he can be sure, it passes, and she scoffs. "That's ridiculous."
"I did mention the part about Zelena West being behind it, yes?"
Emma makes a face. "Touché."
They've both had the dubious honour of meeting Zelena West, years-long thorn in R.E.G.A.L.'s, and especially Regina's, side. It isn't one of Killian's treasured memories. Once she finished threatening everyone he cared about, she tried to drown him.
Emma saved his life, that day. He still isn't sure why.
"You really think she can do it?" Emma asks. "Mind control? I mean, it sounds a little... sci-fi. I'm not really one for fairytales."
"This one's real," he assures her. "Hence why I want to be sure that everyone on this mission understands what's at stake. And cares about the outcome."
"I care about getting paid," Emma says lightly.
"Then why come to us at all?" he challenges. "Why not do it alone? As I recall, that's how you work best."
"I did ask for payment, in case you've forgotten. And you already agreed to it." She raises her voice to talk over him before he can argue back. "And like I said, you need me. We all go to England, I'll identify the box, we steal it, R.E.G.A.L. pays me my finder's fee, done. The world is saved, and we all go home happy."
"England," he repeats. "It's in England?"
She smiles. "Details once we're there."
And just like that, her sudden willingness to be a team player makes sense. He narrows his eyes. "Couldn't get in on your own, I take it?"
Emma is about to deny it, he can tell, but she seems to realise that it's futile to play coy about it. "I'm on a few watch lists," she admits. "I can sneak in, but it'd take me far too long to pull all the strings. R.E.G.A.L. doesn't have nearly as many hoops to jump through."
"One of the many perks of working to uphold the law rather than break it," he says, maybe a little snidely. And also a little hypocritically, he admits privately, since he wasn't all that worried about the law before being shanghaied into his current position. But Emma doesn't know that.
"Because I'm sure you learned all of your skills on the right side of the law," she says drily.
All right, so she doesn't know, but she suspects. Damn her, anyway.
"Perhaps," he says casually. "Look, I can't make any promises, love. I'll have to clear it. I don't have that kind of authority."
"Fine," she says. "Go do that. We have a deal, right?"
He sighs. "We do indeed."
She holds out a hand, and they shake on it. Her fingers are cold, and for a moment he has a bizarre urge to take her hand in both of his and warm it up. Thankfully, she snatches her hand back before he can act on such a crazy impulse. She tries for her usual smug, slightly flirty smile, but it looks a little strained.
Maybe she's just realised exactly what she agreed to.
Killian watches her drive away, then hurries to rejoin his team and make the call.
Regina Mills is not happy about arranging special permission for Emma Swan to enter the UK, or indeed any country, and makes no secret of it.
"I don't like it, either," Killian admits. "But I don't see that we have much choice. We can't hope to gain access to the complex again now that she's been there, and she won't sell the information without being allowed to come along. I could bring her in for interrogation, but by the time you get anything at all from her—"
"No, no," Regina cuts him off, to his relief. "That'll take too long. I take it you believe her?"
"That she knows where the box is? Aye."
"All right." Regina is silent for a moment. "Just tell me one more thing, Jones. Do you trust her?"
Killian hesitates, but he can't lie about it, not with so much at stake. "No."
"Good," Regina states. "Make sure you keep it that way."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Go make your travel arrangements. I'll see to everything else from here."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Good luck. And Jones?"
"Yes?"
There might be a slight smirk in Regina's voice; it's hard to tell. "Don't get in over your head."
"That was fast," Emma comments when Killian hands over her brand-new papers.
"I do aim to please," Killian says, winking at her.
She scoffs and looks away, flipping open the passport to study it. "Emma Blanchard," she reads, then looks back up at him. "I don't even get a new name?"
"You got a new surname."
"You got a new surname."
"Kinda half-assed, isn't it?"
"I'm quite certain there's no shortage of blonde women named Emma in this world, love," he says. "It's common practice to keep first names whenever possible, especially for someone who isn't a field agent. Less chance of you missing your cue."
"I don't miss cues," Emma says, a little sharply. "But fine. What about you?"
He sketches a bow. "James Bonny, CEO of Millennium Global, Inc. A shipping concern," he adds, "part of the Vasilian Group. We specialise in cargo, mostly container shipping."
Emma rolls her eyes. "I don't need the entire dossier."
"Actually, you do," Killian says. "You ought to know a thing or two about your fiancé, after all."
He has the brief but distinct pleasure of seeing Emma's mouth drop open, just a little. By the time she speaks, it's gone. "My what?" There's a definite edge in her voice.
Killian ignores her tone, and smiles. "Your fiancé. Your truly." He digs the ring out of his pocket, seizes Emma's hand, and slides it into place on her finger. "Congratulations."
"Oh, no." She snatches her hand back and pulls the ring off. For a moment, he thinks she might throw it at him, but she only holds it out to him rather forcefully. "No. Absolutely not."
He's a little surprised by the vehemence of her protest, but makes no move to take it back. "I'm afraid it's not up for discussion."
"Damn right it's not," she grinds out. "Because it's not happening. What, just because I'm a woman—"
"Were you a man, you'd be engaged to Belle," Killian says calmly. "Being engaged to an influential businessman – or woman – is one of the best ways to grease the wheels of bureaucracy and obtain a visa for you."
"Sure, but why-" She cuts herself off, her eyes meeting his. "It's a precaution," she says, answering the question she was about to ask. "In case someone recognises me. They'll think I suckered you into pulling those strings for me, and your cover stays intact."
He nods, both annoyed and a little impressed that she figured it out so fast. "You'd make a good spy, Swan."
"I am a good spy," she says. "Just because I don't work for your little club doesn't mean I'm incompetent." There's something hard in the set of her face, as though she's upset and trying to cover it. Perhaps it sits ill with her that he's taking steps to protect himself in case she's discovered, although it can't come as a surprise to her that neither he nor Regina trust her. Or perhaps there's something about being engaged that sits ill with her, not a far-fetched notion given her obvious fear of commitment.
He files that away for further thought later, and says nothing.
"I still don't like it," Emma adds, when the silence stretches on.
"You're welcome to stay here," he offers. "But if you come along, you come along as part of the team. And that means you follow orders and stick to the plan."
She hesitates for a moment, her eyes assessing him, then slides the ring back onto her finger. "Fine."
"Do try for a little more enthusiam once we're under way, love," he tells her, and he can't help grinning at her, just a little. "People might wonder why you agreed to marry me if all you do is glare at me."
She narrows her eyes. "If you're angling for hugs and kisses, you can forget it."
He gives her an innocent look. "I said a little, Swan. Although, if that's your chosen alternative to glaring, I shan't object."
That, of course, has her glaring at him again. And he still isn't sure whether this is the worst idea Regina has ever had, or the best thing that's ever happened to him.
The journey to England is largely uneventful. For once, Killian doesn't even have to charm the ticket lady into giving Liam and Belle adjoining seats; he and Emma have to sit together for appearances' sake, which leaves Belle and Liam across the aisle from him and next to each other. He has perfectly good and valid reasons for that particular habit, of course. Belle always spends the entire takeoff and every bit of turbulence clutching either the armrest or her neighbour's arm in a death grip, and Liam is much more tolerant of that than Killian, not least because it distracts him from dwelling on the fact that he's trapped in a cramped, enclosed space for the next few hours.
Emma is a welcome change from both of them, sitting back in her seat with relaxed nonchalance and flipping through the travel magazine. She doesn't even insult him more than perhaps half a dozen times and spends the rest of the flight either chatting almost amiably, watching movies, and dozing a little. It is, in fact, one of the most pleasant flights Killian has ever experienced.
Perhaps to make up for it, another storm brews once they arrive at their hotel and Emma realises that being a couple means sharing a room.
"I did not sign up for this, Hook," she hisses once they're in the elevator, heading up. "Call whoever you need to and get me another room."
"What part of engaged didn't you understand, love?" he demands. "This is the twentieth century. People don't usually wait until they're married before-"
"I am not sleeping with you!"
"I said nothing of the sort!"
"You just implied it!"
The elevator dings to a halt, and an older gentleman dressed in an ill-fitting suit joins them. Silence descends, and the tension builds. Killian swears that he hears the other man sigh in relief when the elevator reaches their floor and he and Emma move to step out.
"I mean it, James," Emma insists, and Killian is a little impressed that she remembers to use his new name in public even in her anger. "This isn't—"
"This isn't up for discussion," he interrupts, lengthening his stride.
Unfortunately, Killian is not all that much taller than Emma, so the effort falls rather flat. Emma has no trouble keeping pace with him, and she is not the least bit impressed by his command tone, either. "Oh, yes it is, buddy," she maintains. "There's this thing called privacy."
Killian blows out a breath. "Does it help that it's a twin room?"
"Not good enough," Emma says, although she does sound a little less angry. "I can't be around you twenty-four-seven!"
He turns his head to smirk at her. "Worried that you won't be able to resist me?"
"You mean resist killing you?" she retorts. "I mean, really, you're the one who should be worried."
He reaches their room and unlocks the door, stepping aside to let her through first. She walks in with only the briefest hesitation, but he notes the way her step falters for just a split second.
It is a very nice suite.
The living area is spacious and includes access to a small balcony. The beds are in a separate area, although without a door, and set up in a way that makes Killian think they can probably be pushed together. The décor is perhaps a little overdone, but it's all held in similar shades of deep red and mahogany with brass handles and highlights, so he forgives the designers for the elaborate chandelier and their apparent love affair with tassels and lace.
"Are you sure it's not good enough?" he asks Emma, who is standing a little ahead of him, looking around and running her finger over the back of one of the couches. "It seems there's quite a bit of space you can put between us, should you wish me out of your sight."
It isn't, in retrospect, the smartest thing he's ever said. Even if she were inclined to concede the point before, she surely won't now. Her expression heralds that much when she turns to look at him. "I don't mind sight. The problem is that I can still hear you."
He grins. "So you don't object to my looks, love?"
She smiles sweetly. "You don't look nearly as stupid as you sound, no."
He sighs, and abandons his efforts at flirtation for the sake of the mission. "Look, Swan—Emma— it really would be more convenient if you'd consent to stay here. Belle and Liam will be across the hall once they check in, and we can collaborate much more efficiently this way. Not to mention raise less questions."
She considers this for another moment, then nods. "For the mission," she says. "Fine. Speaking of which, we should probably start planning how to steal this magical box from Gold, right?"
Killian's heart flips. "I'm sorry, steal it from whom?"
"Gold," Emma repeats. "That's where it is. Rupert Gold. Businessman, collector of—"
"Aye," Killian says, as the bottom seems to drop out from his world. "I know him."