A/N: Okay, the masses have spoken, I will continue. Thank you for all your praise. I will do my best not to disappoint.

In point of fact, it was the comment of one of the reviewers (StupidGord) that made me realize that I should write the chapter that is to follow. I have much of another one done, but that will have to wait while till next time.

While there won't be as much Rumbelle in this chapter as I would like, it should answer some questions and fill in some gaps. But I promise, thought out the story I'll keep the non-Rumbelle stuff to a minimum.

As for time-line, at this point I'm figuring it goes AU after Skin Deep, and the current date is between Memorial Day and Independence Day. So there's a gap of about four or five months.

I would also like to take this opportunity to thank FortunesArkHero for proof-reading for me. Trust me when I tell you, this is as big a favor to you, the reader, as it is to me, the writer. Enjoy.

"Thanks," Emma said to the Fire Chief watched him jog off to the edge of the collapsed house. Over the last hour the house had settled to the point that it was safe to send in limited search and rescue.

She looked around her at the controlled chaos that had taken over the lawn. The flashing lights of the fire truck, the ambulance, and her squad car, together with disjointed line of their headlights added to the feeling of turmoil. Most of the town had gathered on the side walk and in the road, with a few of the men on the lawn to give their assistance to the rescue if needed.

Emma had had to shoo Sidney Glass of the property shortly after she had arrived. He was remarkably good at being in just the right place to be in the way. Now he stood halfway across the road, apparently framing a shot to capture both the collapsed house and the sign that flanked the walk. Emma supposed a picture on the front page of The Daily Mirror was one way to tell everyone that Storybrooke's House of Books, the only book store in town, would be closed for the foreseeable future. Well, anyone that wasn't currently standing around.

"Hey, Emma," Mary Margaret called as she walks towards her, the teacher's arms wrapped around her middle, "Anything yet?"

Emma shook her head, her eyes going to the young woman Mary Margaret just left sitting at the base of a large tree. Mary Margaret's coat was draped around her shoulders, and while she held the edges shut in front of her, she didn't show any other sign of being aware of where she was. Her eyes remained fixed on the window she fought Emma so hard to get back to as the house came down.

It had been all Emma could do to keep her from going back into the house, even as it came down. It hadn't been hard to figure out someone was still inside. It had taken a bit more time to get enough out of the girl to realize that it was Mr. Gold she had been fighting so hard to get back to.

Curiouser and curiouser, Emma thought to herself. Those two hadn't seemed particularly friendly, and yet the girl had been willing to be severely hurt, if not killed, to save him. And then there was the note she had found tucked under the wiper blade of her squad car.

She had grabbed the piece of paper off the windshield as she rushed to respond to the call about the collapsing house. She almost hadn't read it. But she had caught the sight of what looked like blood. The words were obviously scrawled in haste, but the underlying handwriting was elegant. And the message was simple:

Swan,

The favor you owe me: Protect Rebecca French – Keep her safe. Especially from Regina.

Gold

Emma had glanced at it more than once on the mad drive across town. For some reason her eyes kept coming back to the first letter of Rebecca's name. It was the messiest character, almost as if Gold had started to wright something else, a B maybe, before changing his mind.

Emma's hand moved to her back pocket where she had stuck the note. She had the feeling it was going to turn out to be important. For what she wasn't quite sure. Not yet, anyway.

"Well," Mary Margaret said, pulling Emma's attention back to her, "I called Dr. Hopper. I think she's going to need him."

"Good idea," Emma said. It was common knowledge that Rebecca had been seeing the doctor since she had been released from the psychiatric wing of the hospital. What wasn't well known is why she had been there in the first place. All Emma knew was the rumors. The most sensation of which was that she had gotten involved with the wrong crowd in high school and ended up killing her boyfriend. Emma seriously doubted that story. She doubted the girl could hurt a fly. But even after multiple searches through the archives, Emma had yet to find any mention of the girl at all. Not even a birth certificate. Let alone a file that explained why she had been locked away for as long as anyone could remember.

"No, I'm fine!" The mayor's voice carried over the noise. Both Emma and Mary Margaret turned to look. Regina sat in the back of the ambulance, an emergency blanket draped around her. An ambulance tech stood beside her, an oxygen mask in his hand.

"I should probably go talk to her," Emma said.

Mary Margaret lifted an eyebrow at her, "Good luck."

Emma smiled and headed for the ambulance.

"Madam Mayor," she said, stuffing her hands in her pockets.

"Sheriff Swan," Regina said, her voice dripping with her normal malice, "What is going on?"

Emma sighed, "I was about to ask you the same thing."

"Me?" the mayor said, putting one hand to her chest, "What makes you think I know anything?"

Fighting the urge to shake the woman, Emma kept her voice calm, "I don't know, maybe the fact that you came crawling out of the cellar doors as I arrived."

Regina gave her a sower look. Which Emma had to admit was her usual expression. "I was visiting my friend, Miss French, when the house started to come down."

"Visiting?" Emma asked.

"Yes, Sheriff Swan, visiting. I'm sure you've heard of it. It occurs when two or more friends gather together to converse."

"So," Emma said, drawing the world out, "You were 'conversing' when the house just stared to fall in?"

"Precisely," the mayor said, the look on her face daring Emma to contradict her.

"Okay, then," Emma said and turned to go back to Rebecca. Maybe the girl would be up to talking now.

"Sheriff Swan," Regain called out before Emma took more than a step.

"Yes?" Emma asked, turning back towards the mayor.

"How is Rebecca?" Regain ask. Emma guessed that the concern in her voice would have convinced most people that she really cared. Emma didn't buy it. Her mind flashed back to Gold's note.

"She's safe, Madam Mayor," she said, and then added to herself, Even from you.

And Emma had every intention on keeping her that way. As much as to keep her promise as because now she was curious.

o~o~o~o~o

Rebecca stared at the house that had been her home and workplace for the last few months. And almost my grave.

Panic boiled up inside of her. Her mind returning to the tight little space. The feeling of being trapped washed over her. She was going to die. Her home, her safe place, was going to kill her.

Her breath came in short gasps, the air hardly entering her lungs before being forced out again. She had to get away. She had to get somewhere safe. But where?

"Sweetie," Mary Margaret said from her side, wrapping one arm around her shoulders, "Are you okay?"

Rebecca barely heard her. Where was safe? There was nowhere left. Her safety had fallen in on itself. Her life had fallen in on itself. The only place left was her cell. God, she didn't want to go back there. But where else was there?

"Rebecca," Dr. Hopper said. Rebecca looked up to find him crouching in front of her. He reached out and gently cupped both shoulders in his warm hands. "I need you to take a deep breath for me, okay? Put your hand on your abdomen and push it out for me. Can you do that?"

Rebecca nodded and leaned back against the tree. With her hand on her stomach, she took a shaky breath, but made sure to use her diaphragm to do it.

"One, two, three, four, five," Dr. Hopper counted slowly as she breathed in, "Good. Hold. Now breath out. One, two, three, four, five. Again. One, two, three, four, five. Hold, two. Out, one, two, three, four, five."

Rebecca sighed as the let the last of the deep breath out and let her breathing return to normal. It shuttered a little, but she wasn't hyperventilating anymore.

"How do you feel?" Dr. Hopper asked.

She took a moment before answering honestly, "I don't know."

"I'll give you guys some privacy," Mary Margret said, starting to stand.

"No," Rebecca said, putting her hand over the other woman's where it rested on her arm, "It's okay, you don't have to go."

"Okay," Mary Margret said, giving her a friendly smile, before sitting back down. She leaned towards Rebecca and wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders.

"I know how you feel," Dr. Hopper said. Rebecca looked back at him, skeptical. It must have shown on her face, because he continued, "I didn't exactly know how I felt when I was trapped in the mines this fall with Henry. I felt a lot of things, conflicting things, even after we were safe."

Rebecca's eyes went back to edge of the collapsed house where the rescue works were so terribly slowly shifting through the rubble, "At least both of you got out of there alive."

Dr. Hopper half turned, "Is someone still in there?"

Rebecca swallowed a sob, unable to answer. Luckily, Mary Margret did it for her, "Yeah. Mr. Gold. He helped her out, but…"

Burying her head in her hands, Rebecca fought back another wave of panic.

Dr. Hopper turned back to her, and gently pushed her back into a sitting position, "Rebecca, I need you to breath."

Rebecca focused on her breathing, her hand going back to her stomach. She had learned the breathing exercise, along with other coping mechanisms, during her visits to Dr. Hopper's office. It was almost habitual now. Good, healthy habits were the keys to success. At least that was what he was always telling her. Panic Disorder with Agoraphobia. It was a mouthful of a diagnosis. But considering that six months ago she could scarcely remember a life outside her ten by ten cell, it was much better than it could have been.

She'd even managed the walk to Dr. Hopper's office these last few weeks without the need to lock herself in the bathroom when she got there to pull herself together. A trip to the grocery store was planned for next week. Her first big outing. She had been so looking forward to not being as reliant on Emma or Mary Margret to do her shopping for her.

Before she could get too deep into trying to figure out her near future, and more than likely throw herself into another panic attack, there was a shout from the house.

"We've got something!" Rebecca didn't recognize the voice. She froze, her lower lip between her teeth.

"Breath, Rebecca," Dr. Hopper said gently. She forced air into her lungs, her entire being focused on the rescue workers that were now moving a lot quicker. She fought to make words out of the muttering that followed, barely noticing the ambulance workers running up to the edge of the building.

"He's got a pulse," it was David's voice this time coming from within the fallen house, "Get the back board in here."

Though she knew it was only a few minutes, it seemed like hours before several men working together lifted the yellow board from the gap in the wall a few feet from the window she had crawled out of.

Without thinking, Rebecca was on her feet, running towards the dust covered form. All she could think was, He's not moving.

Emma caught her again, but this time Rebecca didn't have the energy to fight her. Instead, she collapsed into the other woman, her eyes never leaving Mr. Gold as they lowered the recue board onto the portable stretcher.

Only when someone got in her line of sight did she look up. David was standing in front of them, covered in dust, a scratch on his cheek. Mary Margret came up beside him, her hand going to his arm, her eyes full of concern.

"How is he?" Emma asked.

"Lucky," he said, looking over his shoulder, his hand reaching out to rest on Mary Margret's waist, "He's pretty beat up. A beam came down over him, probably broke some stuff. But he's breathing."

A shuddering sob went through Rebecca. Her mind all too easily picturing him buried beneath a pile of broken house, a beam crushing his chest.

"Why don't I give you a lift to the hospital," Emma said gently as she shifted her grip on Rebecca for one that was holding her up, to one that would help her walk.

Rebecca nodded and heard Dr. Hopper ask, "Mind if I tag along?"

"Not at all," Emma said as she stared to guide Rebecca towards the road, "But you'll have to ride in the back of the squad car."

If Dr. Hopper made a reply, Rebecca didn't hear him. It took all her effort to keep moving forward towards the gathered crowd. She wanted to bolt and run for parts unknown.

But she had nowhere to go. And this was the quickest way to get to the hospital. And she had to make sure he would be alright.

A/N: Agoraphobia is anxiety disorder. Three million people in the United States alone suffer from this disorder. In real life there is treatment, but no magic cure. Not even true love's kiss can magically make any anxiety disorder just go away. But Storybrooke isn't real life.

I'm putting this out there up front, because I don't want to hurt or offend anyone. I also want to make it very clear that I have nothing but respect and admiration for everyone who has an anxiety or panic disorder and yet finds a way to continue to face life. I have seen how therapy, determination, and strength can change a person's life. And I know it is never easy to find that strength and determination or the courage to get help.

However, as it is a story, and I am not a psychologist or a psychiatrist, I will probably be easier on Rebecca/Belle than I should be. This will either be in interest of moving the story along in the direction I want, and/or my lack of knowledge about agoraphobia and its treatment. I by no means wish to trivialize anyone's struggle and hard work. I only want to present one person's struggle with dignity and respect. If I fail in my quest, and/or you feel the need to comment on my handling of the issue, please PM me.

That being said, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I hope post about once a week. And as it stands now, we should be getting back to some more Rumbelle intensive stuff shortly.