Author's Note: Some people are a little confused about Killian/Kyle, which is partly my fault for not writing it clear enough, so I will explain here what I meant to convey about him. Kyle has a strained relationship with his father, and this is the reason he pretends to be Captain Killian. It's how he deals with his father. Also, Kyle's father is the one who helped Melena 'kill' Gold. Melena is actually Milah, but since Baelfire is named Baden and Rumpelstiltskin is Robert, I thought I should make her name a bit more modern as well.


Gold woke up to the sound of voices. "He's in a critical condition. You should have brought him straight to me."

"But I couldn't! Someone was trying to kill him! If I brought him to you, they would realize that he's alive, and then they would've had a chance to try again. He has to stay here, for his own safety."

Gold tried to sit up, but then pain flared through his chest. He cried out and lay back down. He clenched his hands into fists, trying to block out the pain. It was excruciating, but not quite as bad as the time he had hurt his leg, so he was pretty sure he'd make it through this one.

"Sir, you should lay still," a voice gently informed him. "Do you at least have a first aid kit?" At first, Gold thought the voice was still addressing him, but then someone else answered.

"Yeah, I grabbed your field kit from your house when you weren't looking."

"I guess that's a good thing," the first voice grumbled, and then there was a silence. "How long has he been like this?"

"Uh, about 24 hours," the second voice said.

"Oh gosh. Alright, sir, I'm going to need you to lay still as I examine you, alright?"

He nodded, and braced himself for the upcoming pain. The doctor checked him over quickly.

"Without the proper equipment …" he began, but was cut off.

"The proper equipment could be the death of him! We can't take him back to the town. You'll just have to treat him with what you've got."

"Alright, but I could easily miss something important," the first voice insisted. "Sir, do you want me to take you to the hospital, or treat you here?" Obviously, the person had realized that he knew which situation was best.

"Here," he forced out through gritted teeth. Talking hurt even more than breathing did.

"Alright sir, don't worry, I'll do the best I can."

And that's all I can ask for, dearie, Gold thought as the doctor started treating him. At some point, the pain became too much for him to bear, and he drifted off into the land of the unconscious.


Mr. French was furious. "What do you mean, no leads!" he bellowed. Officer Hunter could do nothing but let the angry father yell at him. "How could you not have found the truck and its driver, or a crippled man with no car or cell phone? I bet you couldn't find them if they were right in front of your nose!"

Finally, Mr. French had to take a break from his rant to breathe. That's when Officer Hunter was able to interject. "Sir, all I said was that we had yet to find Mr. Gold or the man who kidnapped you daughter. That doesn't mean that we have no leads." Mr. French was finally paying attention to the policeman.

"We caught an image of Mr. Gold leaving a building. He has a contact there, and we are going to talk to her and see what she knows. Besides that, you are right. We lack any information that would lead us to either of the two men, but we are hopeful that his contact will give us the missing information. I was about to go talk to her, when you came barging in here demanding an update, so if you will excuse me." The officer got up and walked toward the door of his office.

"Wait," Mr. French called after him. He turned around, and waited for Moe to speak. "I'm going with you."

"You most certainly are not," Officer Hunter objected. There was no way he was letting the civilian ruin his investigation.

"No. My daughter is missing, and your team is doing a terrible job at finding her. I'm coming, so I can make sure this is being done right."

"With all due respect, Mr. French, the best way you can make sure this is being done right is to let me handle it." The father paused, unsure of what to do, and Officer Hunter saw his way in. "Look, why don't you wait for me in my office. I'll tell you the news as soon as I get back."

"Alright," the father relented, but said one last thing before the policeman left. "Just make sure my daughter's safe."

"Of course, sir," Officer Hunter agreed, before leaving to go see Mrs. Mills, the only person in the realtor building that Mr. Gold had known before the whole mess had begun.

Cora Mills put on a very convincing fake smile as the officer walked into her office. "It's a pleasure to meet you …" she trailed off, so he would tell her his name.

"Officer Hunter."

"No need to be so stiff, Officer," she told him. She had the terrible habit of flirting with men when she was nervous or trying to distract them. Her husband knew of it, and knew he couldn't change her. He accepted her the way she was, even if he didn't like it. Henry knew she would never take it too far. "You can call me Cora. What's your first name?"

"Look, Mrs. Mills, we should really …" she cut him off.

"Well, I guess I'll have to make a name up for you. How about, Francis?" she questioned, trying to come up with a terrible name so he would be forced to tell her the real one.

"Fine, you can call me Officer Graham. Now, can we continue?" He was exasperated, but perhaps if he told her his name she would let them move on.

"Alright, Graham. What are you hear to discuss?"

"Is it true that you are friends with Mr. Robert Gold?"

She laughed. "Is anyone truly friends with that man?" When Graham glared at her, she continued. "Well, yes, I know him quite well."

"Did he come to see you a few days ago?"

"Um, let's see, not that I recall." She batted her eyelashes at him to hide the fact that she was lying.

"So, we have footage of him leaving this building, after coming to talk to one of the walls. Is that right?" he said sarcastically. He saw right through her lies, and as much as she wanted to go to prison for her acquaintance, she decided to tell him the truth. As long as he agreed to her conditions, of course.

"Alright, if you want the information, you must promise me two things."

"We'll see," the officer said, folding his arms and waiting for her to say what she wanted.

"Number one, I will not be prosecuted for withholding information." He nodded. If she was going to tell him now, he could overlook the fact that she had been reluctant to do so. "And number two, you will keep this information as secret as possible."

Now he was starting to wonder what was going on. Seeing the look on his face, she hastily continued. "The second request is to protect Baden."

"Alright then. I agree to your stipulations, so long as you are telling the truth about Baden's safety being on the line if this information gets out. Tell me what you know." She handed him a piece of paper. On it was a note, probably the one that Gold's secretary had mentioned.

"So, Gold's father has Baden and Belle. I see why he didn't tell us, since he threatened to hurt Baden if he did. Now, all we have to do is find the identity of Gold's father, and …"

"I know the identity, and the most likely spot where Baden is being kept," Mrs. Mills interrupted. "But who's Belle?"

"Belle's the girl that got kidnapped while trying to save Baden. So, are you going to give me the information?"

"Of course, Graham. The man's name is Peter Shepard, and he recently bought a hunting cabin." As she spoke, she brought up the information on her computer. "That would be an ideal place to keep them."

"You're right, thank you." Officer Hunter rose, glad to finally have a promising lead.

"Oh, wait, Graham? Don't forget, you can't tell anyone that isn't absolutely essential to saving the boy."

"Of course," he agreed. As he walked back to his police car, he remembered Mr. French. The man would be furious again for his lack of leads. He sighed. There was no way of getting around it without endangering the two hostages. He just hoped Mr. French would be reasonable about this 'failure.'


As Belle set down the platter of chocolate chip pancakes on the table, she couldn't help but feel like roles were reversed. Shepard was rubbing his hands together in anticipation, and took three pancakes before the plate was even on the table, whereas Bae grabbed one, and picked at it, muttering under his breathe about how chocolate for breakfast could be very bad for one's health.

"Mmmm, these pancakes are perfect!" their captor exclaimed around a mouthful of pancake. "I could eat these every morning!"

Belle smiled, relieved that their captor was in a good mood. Unfortunately, she had thought too soon.

Shepard looked over at Baden, and his eyes narrowed. "Why aren't you eating your pancakes!" he bellowed.

Baden looked up from where he was picking at one of them. "I don't like chocolate for breakfast."

"What?!" he roared, and started to move toward the now terrified little boy.

Belle thought quickly. "Perhaps Baden meant that his stomach isn't feeling well, so he doesn't want chocolate for breakfast today." Baden nodded vigorously, so Shepard would believe the story.

"How dare you be sick on a day when Belle made such a wonderful breakfast?!" Obviously, that plan had backfired.

"It's okay, I'll make them again tomorrow, when Baden's feeling better." The hand that had been about to slap Baden stopped, and he redirected it to clap.

"Yay! Chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast two days in a row!" the maniac cheered. "Baden, you should stay sick, so we can have them for three days straight!" Grinning, he went back to his seat to continue eating. Belle relaxed; glad she had salvaged the spiraling situation. The most unexpected things could set her captor off, and she would have to be more careful. At least neither of them had been hurt this time.


"So, how is he?" Killian asked Dr. Hopper as soon as he was done checking over his patient.

"He'll be fine. I need you to give him two of these every four hours," he informed the boy, putting a bottle in the kid's hands. Killian looked down at the meds, and then back up at the doctor.

"Aren't you forgetting something? My father won't let me leave every four hours to come here."

"True, but he needs the pain medication, and actually, he needs someone to be here the entire time to take care of him." Archie fell silent, trying to think of a solution. Then, his face lit up. "I got it! I'll tell your father you're helping me."

"Okay," the boy agreed. After he dropped Dr. Hopper off in the town, he sailed his raft back to his hideout. He walked in, and then froze.

The patient was awake, and glaring right at him. It was a look so fierce that Kyle was sure brave warriors would drop dead from it. He wanted to run screaming from the room. That was until he reminded himself that he was Captain Killian Jones, the fearless pirate.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked in a cocky voice to hide his true emotions.

"What are you going to do to me?" Gold questioned, skipping the pleasantries. He was completely at the mercy of a strange kid, and he had no way to judge his attentions.

"Help you get better. Feed you. Other than that, I don't know. I guess whatever you want me to do."

Gold sighed, relieved. At least he had been rescued by a compassionate stranger. He remembered the pain of being healed in the night, but had forgotten the conversation he had overheard while conscious.

"My chest hurts," he told the boy, in spite of himself. He wanted to appear strong, but just breathing sent pain shooting through his body.

"Well, sorry. You've still got two more hours until I can give you the pain meds," Killian informed him.

"Fine." Gold just lay there, trying to breathe in the least painful way possible. Killian watched him for a few minutes, before he gave in to his curiosity.

"So, who shot you, and why?" Gold really didn't feel like launching into any lengthy conversation; talking hurt worse than breathing. However, he especially didn't want to go into that conversation. Telling a teen that his ex-wife had shot him while he was hitchhiking to try to save his son seemed like it was teeming with bad morals for him to learn. Like, get a divorce, hitchhike, avoid the police, etc.

"No," Gold told him, since it was shorter than 'I don't feel like telling you.'

"Oh, okay, you can tell me later," Killian said.

Gold sighed, and winced from the pain that it caused. His road to recovery seemed to be a rather long and painful one.