Killian stared at the screen in abject horror. How could he have missed it? How could he have watched this video so many times in the past eighteen months and not realized? Killian felt as though he'd been sucker punched in the belly, all the air gone from his lungs leaving him feeling faint.

Her wedding ring.

There was one half a second when Milah's left hand was open and in view of the camera as she was walking back to the car. She was wearing her bloody wedding ring from that bastard. The video was all wrong.

He felt like his brain had come loose from the moorings, spinning wildly about caught in the tide of realization.

"Killian?" Emma whispered, running her hand across his bare shoulders before squeezing his biceps. "What are you doing?"

Killian jumped at the first touch, but then whirled around, nearly making himself dizzy. "Swan! You've got to see this, luv!" He grabbed her hand from where it was resting and spun her around to face the computer.

Emma just stared at him.

"Look!" he cried again, waving at the screen. Couldn't she see?

"Just come back to bed, Killian. I promise we'll look again in the morning," Emma soothed, reaching out to close the laptop.

"No, luv, look!" he tried again, finally realizing what he must look like - the blanket thrown over his hips, the laptop perched precariously between his knees and the desk. "She's wearing her wedding ring."

"I see that," she replied, looking closer at the screen. "What…?"

"The tape's been altered," he nearly shouted in Emma's ear. "She can't have been wearing her wedding ring in the video from that night. She can't have been wearing it when she left. She came to the precinct that night to give it to me."

A smile started to fill Emma's face. It was a satisfied looking thing, a glint in her eyes and a quirk of her lips. "She wasn't wearing the ring when she left? You're sure?"

"I've still got it; I couldn't bear to get rid of it after… I still have it at home."

Emma grinned now. "Show me," she demanded, grabbing his hand and pulling him from the chair.

Killian cackled, rising to his feet and letting the blanket pool around his feet. "I think we might need some clothes, darling," he admonished.

Emma looked him up and down appreciatively before she reached for his shirt. "Come on, Jones. We have work to do," she said as she threw it to him.

There was snow on the ground and swirling through the air. The wind whipped through his hastily donned apparel, making him shiver. Killian pulled Emma under his arm as they raced from the ship to the Chevelle. He couldn't wait to get back to the apartment and find Milah's ring. Finally, after all this time, he could nail Gold to the wall for what he'd done.

If the video was altered, there was enough cause to-

"We'll need to get Heller to admit to doctoring the tapes if we're ever going to get anywhere, you know," Emma mused when they were nearly to his street.

Killian nodded, not taking his eyes off the road. It was getting a little bit slick and the last thing he needed was to end up off the road in a snowbank with no help on the way. "Aye, luv, but you'll get him."

"You think so?" she asked, a hint of doubt coloring her words.

Killian was surprised to hear it; he had no qualms about her running this investigation. "Neither one of us is going to give up, Emma. Heller is loyal to Gold, aye, but he's loyal to himself first. Besides, I've yet to see you fail."

Emma smiled then, settling back into her seat and looking out the window. "I want you far away from the station when I question him," she whispered as Killian parallel parked down the block from his apartment.

"What?!" he hissed, turning the wheel too soon and just barely missing the old bat's car who lived upstairs from them. That was all he and Liam needed. Granny Lucas was a lot of things, but a kindly geriatric she was not.

"It's just…" Emma wrinkled her nose, looking as though she wanted to be anywhere but in this conversation, "Killian, you're too close to this. And you and Isaac don't exactly have the best track record."

Killian slammed on the breaks, apologizing even as he did it. "How do you know about that?"

Emma grimaced. "A contact of mine might have… dug up the original arrest report on you from-"

"Milah's funeral," Killian growled. "Aye, I know the report. I don't know how Liam got it amended, but no one's supposed to have access."

"I'll get a confession out of him, Jones. I will," she swore. "But if you're there and you lose your temper…"

"Then Gold will make sure that the confession is reported as coerced and we'll be back to square one," Killian finished for her, throwing the car into neutral before pulling the brake. "I don't like it. Isaac is a bloody weasel. But… you're right."

"I don't like it any more than you do, Killian. You deserve this. I'll make sure that you're there when we take down Gold. But in order to do that-"

"In order to do that, I have to sit on my hands like a good little boy and stay out of trouble," Killian muttered. "I got the company line, Swan."

"Killian, I-"

"Let's just go get Milah's ring. Please, Swan, I just want to get some sleep."

Emma nodded and got out of the car. She stopped and waited for him to cross behind the trunk and reached out to lay a hand on his arm. Killian didn't want to admit how good it felt. How much it calmed him down.

"I know you're going to get him, Swan. I trust you," he told her, the words sounding a bit hollow to his ears. He meant every word, he did; it was just hard to be put on a desk after he'd found a lead for the first time in a year and a half.

Emma looked at him like he was a strange creature she'd never seen before. Her fingers tightened around his forearm, squeezing gently until he smiled. "Let's go inside, Killian. It's freezing out," she managed with an encouraging nod.

The ring was just where he left it. Not that he'd had to wonder - it was the last thing he saw every night before turning off the bedside lamp, right next to his mother's picture and Liam's Academy graduation photo.

"It's here, Swan," he whispered reverently, pinching the ring between his fingers and holding it up to the light. "She gave it to me as a promise. A promise that she was going to stay with me. And he bloody well killed her for it."

Emma took the ring gently, dropping it into an evidence bag from her backpack. "I'll take care of it, Killian," she promised.

"They both left me, you know?" he asked, but he wasn't really talking to her anymore, staring at the pictures on his table. "Liam got hurt six months after Milah died. They both left me."

"You've never told me what happened," she said, and it was all it took to send him spiraling back to that day.

"Killian? What the bloody hell are you doing here?" Liam hisses, fastening and then unfastening the velcro securing the bulletproof vest to his torso.

Killian's gaze is drawn to his brother's chest, where the letters POLICE are emblazoned - in case of a firefight so the suspects have a better target, he tells himself bitterly. It's not the first call like this they've had lately, and until the culture changes, it won't be the last. Doesn't make it easier to know that he's about to go into a situation where he may be training his weapon on a child.

A child with deadly weapons, yes, but still a child.

"Gold ordered everyone who wasn't on an active crime scene to report to Midas." Head of the Crisis Negotiation Unit, Aurel Midas is an imposing man of his own right. He has a reputation for getting results - no matter what the cost. Killian knows that Liam doesn't really like the man or his methods, but no one can argue with the success rate he carries.

Not to mention that - for the foreseeable future, anyway - he is their commanding officer.

Liam sighs in resignation, but nods. "Nothing we can do about it now. Keep your head on a swivel, little brother."

"I'm not a bloody rookie, Liam. You don't need to mollycoddle me," he shoots back angrily. Everything Liam says now seems to set Killian off, and he can track it back to that night. The night when Liam stopped him from getting to Milah, the night when he risked his own career to get Killian out of the drunk tank, the night when Killian's life ended.

Whatever Liam was going to say is cut off when Midas, himself, comes over. "If you two are finished getting ready, we're set to breach momentarily."

"Sir," Liam starts, waiting until he has Midas's attention, "my brother isn't-"

"Liam!" Killian shouts vehemently, causing a number of heads to turn in their direction.

Liam looks unapologetic, but snaps his jaw shut and turns his head away. They really don't have time for this and Killian can't spare a thought for his brother's feelings right now. He turns away himself and seeks out Robin, readjusting his own vest as he does so.

They have children to protect by neutralizing other, slightly more anarchistic children. He'll never be able to get his head around it.

"You ready for this?" Robin asks sadly, the look in his eyes betraying his own feelings on the matter. With his son not yet in school, he can only hope that by the time Roland is a student this will be a nightmare and not his class's reality.

Killian shakes his head 'no'. He'll never be ready for this. "Bloody Liam tried to get me sidelined," he says angrily instead of what he's really thinking - that he wishes there had been a murder elsewhere in the city that had taken their attention.

"He's just-"

"I know what he's 'just'," he interrupts. "He doesn't have the right to my life!"

That isn't true. Killian knows it isn't true and he doesn't even really believe it should be. But ever since Mi- ever since that night, Liam has been dictating his every move. It's driving him mad.

To his credit, Robin doesn't say anything and, for that, Killian is thankful. He remembers what he yelled at Locksley from the back of the squad car, is amazed that his partner hasn't washed his hands of him yet.

He's surprised again and again that everyone hasn't washed their hands of him yet. He's not worth the bother. Not anymore.

They get the order to breach and that's the last he thinks about Liam. He may not care much about what happens to him from here on out, but he's got Robin to think about. He's got young Roland to think about. He won't let the boy lose his father if it's in his power to prevent it.

The halls are eerily quiet, the ghosts of their travelers echoing in Killian's ears. He wonders what it's like when they're full, if things have changed so much since he and Liam wandered these passageways. Back then, their heads were filled with idealistic thoughts and concerned with only what was left of their family and nothing outside of that.

Now, things are so much more real and sometimes Killian wishes that he was still that wide-eyed youth. The boy who experienced heartache far too young but still had hopes for the future. The future, now, looks like endless torture.

He doesn't know how it happens. One minute he and Robin are clearing an otherwise empty hallway. The next he's sprawled on the floor, his face squashed against the cool tile and shouting all around him. He hears several gunshots, but doesn't feel the unfortunately familiar tearing of a bullet through him. Chaos has erupted around him.

But that's not what terrifies Killian.

No, what terrifies him is the very familiar, very agonized groan of pain that rings through his ears.

Liam.

Killian can't move, can't get free of Liam's dead weight across his back. Liam won't answer him. His brother is making sounds, is clearly conscious - albeit not cognizant, apparently - but that's as far as it goes.

"Liam? Liam, please! Robin?" His calls go unanswered, adding frustration to the terror and the adrenaline wrapping around his heart and squeezing. He doesn't even know what happened, doesn't know where Liam came from, doesn't know why his brother is moaning.

And then it's as if someone hit the mute button on the scene. The only noise he can hear is the blood rushing in his ears. Liam has gone utterly silent and still above him. He can't breathe, he can't think. He needs his brother.

"Don't move, Killian," Robin warns, his hand on Killian's shoulder. "Are you hurt?"

Me?

It's the most utterly ridiculous thing he's ever been asked. Liam is the one who is hurt. The one who is important. God, he can't lose Liam. Not now. He won't survive it.

"What's going on? What happened to Liam?" he tries again now that he knows Locksley is there. "Robin, answer me!"

"You didn't see him?" Robin asked incredulously.

Killian blinks. See Liam? Obviously not, or he wouldn't be asking what happened. He manages to turn his head without someone stopping him and comes face to face with a greasy haired blonde boy, his eyes wide open and staring sightlessly.

The gunshots.

Killian can't stop staring at the teenager, at the ever-increasing pool of blood around him, at the glint of metal still clutched in his fingers.

A blood-stained knife.

"Robin?" he begs. "Liam?"

Locksley moves into his line of sight and nods sadly. "Your brother, he came out of nowhere. I don't even know… one second this kid was practically flying at you and the next…" he trails off, looking over Killian's shoulder.

"We need medics in the South wing," David calls. Killian didn't even know he was there. "Hold on, Jones. Don't you dare die on us."

Killian can't breathe. Liam… Liam can't die.

This is why you can't have nice things, he berates himself. Mama, Father, Milah. They all left him. Now Liam is going, too.

Because of him. They all leave because Killian isn't good enough.

There's a flurry of activity around him a few moments later. Liam is lifted from his back and before Killian can even take a full breath, Locksley is hauling him to his feet and patting him down.

Killian is covered in blood. He's not even entirely sure it's all Liam's.

"Are you hurt?" Robin asks again, but Killian just levels him with a look. If Robin truly thought he was hurt, he wouldn't have risked moving him.

He shakes his head anyway, too terrified to look over to where the medics are frantically working over Liam. There's blood everywhere, but Killian just stares at the dead boy's face, committing it to memory. There's nothing for it now, but he at least wants a face to go with the nightmares he knows are coming.

He needs a face to rail at if Liam doesn't… if he…

"You're riding with me, Jones," Robin orders, steering him after the gurney that is quickly being whisked away.

"Like hell," he seethes. "I'm going with Li-"

"You'll get in the way. Let David go with him."

Killian just shakes his head. "Robin, please, I can't. If he… I need… please."

The look in Robin's eyes isn't one Killian remembers seeing before. It's guilt mixed in with grief mixed in with indecision.

David makes the decision for them, all but shoving Killian up the back step into the bus next to his brother. There are too many wires, too many alarms. Not enough movement from his brother.

God, he's so still.

"Sit down," the paramedic orders, pointing brusquely to the jump seat near Liam's hip.

He sits.

Well, that's what Killian will tell anyone who asks later. Really, his knees buckle at the pallor to Liam's skin, at the way his eyelashes look far too dark against his cheeks, at the way his breath barely fogs the oxygen mask obscuring half his face.

He's alive, but who knows how long that will last.

Killian watches in a daze as the doors close and the paramedic works efficiently but a little frantically. Liam still doesn't move, doesn't flinch, doesn't make a sound.

He can't breathe. His legs have gone numb. His fingers are tingling. Someone has obviously wrapped ropes around his chest and they are cinching them tighter with each passing moment. The wail of the ambulance sirens are only distant in his ears, the rush of blood still drowning everything else around him.

God, why can't he breathe?

"Hey!" Someone shouts in his ear, causing Killian to turn slowly, as if he's moving under water.

Robin. When the hell did Robin get in the ambulance?

"Come on, Killian. Let's go find a waiting room. Maybe Jasmine has someplace to get you cleaned up."

What?

"The ambulance has to stop first," Killian says, as if that will explain everything.

Robin blinks at him.

Killian turns his head to look at Liam, to make sure he's still alive, to see if-

"Where is he?" Killian's eyes shoot to Robin. "My brother. Robin, where'd he go?"

Robin doesn't say anything, but he's smiling the same way he did when they found that abused kid hiding in the Callahan Tunnel. He reaches out and unbuckles Killian's seatbelt, tugging him up to stand.

"I'll take you to him."

Killian just nods, the ropes around his chest tightening even further and making him see spots.

"Jones!"

Killian is sitting on the pavement, sprawled against the back bumper of the ambulance. There's a high pitched wheezing sound coming from somewhere, and it got very dark all of a sudden. He wonders if a storm crept up on them; it can't be more than four in the afternoon.

Someone has a vice grip on his wrist, another has a hand spread against his chest, holding him upright.

"You with us now, mate?" Robin asks, his voice a little too high, the words a little too fast.

Killian nods slowly. He hears someone mention a panic attack and, suddenly, all the pieces start to fall into place. That was him making that wheezing sound.

"Liam?" he asks hesitantly. The answer to that question is the only thing that matters.

Robin smiles gently, but it doesn't meet his eyes. "They took him into surgery. David's up there waiting for news. He'll call me if anything…" he doesn't finish the sentence.

Killian doesn't want him to.

Robin and the two men in scrubs kneeling on either side of him help Killian to stand, but Locksley waves them away once he's steady.

"Let's try this again, all right? Maybe with less fainting this time?"

Killian scowls half-heartedly. "I don't faint."

"Sure," Robin says, but he isn't agreeing with him. "Let's find a shower, hmm?"

And so the hours begin to pass. First pacing the waiting room, then being mothered by David's wife, then sitting in the hard plastic chair, unable to do anything but stare into the slowly-cooling coffee in his hands.

"Family of Liam Jones?" Killian has never heard four words more terrifying in his entire life.

Liam is stable, if not out of the woods. They had trouble finding the source of his bottoming out blood pressure even after they stopped the bleeding. They sent samples of his blood to the lab, just in case.

The next twenty-four hours are critical.

They move Killian to Liam's bedside, hushed whispers in the background mentioning things like visiting hours and those not applying to him. He hears Milah's name thrown out once, but shies away from the conversation after that. Whatever Locksley and the doctor are talking about doesn't matter. Killian is by Liam's side and that's where he is going to stay until his brother wakes up.

So he sits. And he watches over Liam. And he waits.

"You stubborn arse," he mutters sometime on day three. It's perhaps the first thing he's said since entering Liam's room. Killian is pretty sure Liam can't hear him, what with the drugs being fed into his IV, but once he opens his mouth, he finds he can't stop.

"I don't know what you were thinking, getting in between me and that knife. I'm not your child; I don't need a minder any longer. I love you, Liam, I do, but at some point you've got to realize that I'm an adult and I can take care of myself. Don't scoff at me, I know you think differently, but I can. And if I choose to…" he trails off, watching the monitors for a moment.

Nothing changes.

"Liam," he continues, not quite on the same thread any longer, "I'm not the one who deserves to live, you do. God, everything that's happened in the last few years, hell in our lives, it's all been my fault. I can't have your blood on my hands, too, Liam. I can't. I won't survive it. So I need you to stop, all right?"

Robin comes in then, or maybe it's David. Killian doesn't care who it is, the two of them bring the same message. Take a walk, take a shower, get some sleep. He doesn't care; don't they know he can't leave Liam? He can't lose his brother and if he leaves the room, if he isn't right there tethering Liam to this world, then who knows what storm of medical jargon could drag him under.

"I miss you, Liam," he admits sometime on day five. He's not even looking at Liam in the bed anymore, speaking over his shoulder as if Liam is behind him, half in and half out of the room… half out of reality… halfway to his own grave. The doctors found something in Liam's blood; they haven't' been able to identify it yet, but they're sure it's the reason for all the cardiac trouble.

God, if Killian never hears the alarm on his brother's EKG again, it will be too soon. He's heard the doctors and nurses using phrases like tachycardia and then hypotension, worrying about stroke volume and the integrity of heart valves. They worry that the damage is irreversible.

None of them seem to worry about explaining this to Killian.

"Please, Liam. Please, I need you to come back to me, okay? Bloody hell, you can't leave me! Not you, too. I won't survive it, I need you, brother, please. Please?"

"Don' worry, li'l brother," Liam slurs only just audibly, his eyes still shut. "I'm sti-"

Killian will never forget the way his brother's body went from limp and lifeless to shaking violently in what seemed like a heartbeat. Visible tremors wrack his entire frame and Liam's eyes shoot open, terror clearly visible as he silently pleads with Killian to fix it.

"Help!" he shouts, both hands reaching out to take Liam's. To show his brother that he's there, that he won't leave him. "Someone help me now!"

"It didn't get any better, not for a long time," Killian muttered, still looking at his feet. He scrubbed a hand down over his face and then tangled his fingers in his hair, yanking hard enough to ground himself in the present. "God, Swan, I don't even remember how long he was in the hospital. They kept him sedated most of the time, and David only just managed to drag me out of that damned room long enough every few days for Mary Margaret to get something home cooked into me before I was threatening to hitchhike back to MGH."

Emma's heart felt as though someone had shoved it into a vice and started to twist slowly. She resisted the urge to put a hand to her chest and make sure there wasn't a gaping wound there. Killian continued to mutter, but he wasn't talking to her any longer, not really. Emma sat down slowly next to him and, with a deep breath for her own courage, laid her hand - palm up - on his knee.

Killian tilted his head to the side, staring at her fingers as though they were some foreign object he'd never seen before. Emma started to pull her hand back when he didn't move, disappointment warring with resignation. After all, it wasn't like he and she were-

Killian snatched her hand back before she could pull away entirely, tangling their fingers together and holding on for dear life. It was an alien feeling, being needed like this. She could feel the way he trembled beneath her hand, his leg jittering with nerves and emotion. Emma couldn't ever remember feeling that strongly about anyone's well-being as Killian did for his brother and it made her sad. Made her feel less, somehow.

She'd never live up to the depths of emotion Killian Jones felt for those he was close to.

"Pretty pathetic, right, Swan?" he interrupted her musings, making Emma jerk her head up to meet his gaze before it could skitter away.

"What?" she asked, sure she'd missed something important.

Killian just shrugged, seemingly transfixed by Emma's stare. He didn't answer, though, and Emma's stare turned into a glare.

"What?" she asked again, daring him to ignore her query.

Killian finally looked away, finding his shoes fascinating. "Me," he whispered so quietly that Emma barely heard him.

She squeezed his hand as tightly as she could, trying to understand. Trying to will him to explain. Trying to-

"It happened a year ago. And he's fine. I know that. I just saw him a few days ago. But it… it doesn't change the fact that I can still feel his blood sticking to my skin, can still hear the way he… he moaned." Killian closed his eyes and a look of despair crossed his features. "I can still see the seizures if I close my eyes at the wrong moment. I just…"

Emma tugged at his hand, not really knowing what she wanted, just knowing that she needed to wipe that look of his face. Killian nearly collapsed against her, forcing Emma to either wrap her free arm around his shoulders or risk toppling over herself. He didn't make a sound, but the shudder that ran through him was clue enough. Emma tightened her arms around him and held on tightly.

She wasn't sure when it happened, but Emma's hand started to card through the scruff at the base of Killian's skull. He tensed beneath her at first, but slowly started to relax. His shoulders sagged and his breathing evened out as she continued, murmuring nonsense in his ear the entire time.

"He's fine, Killian. Your brother's just fine," she soothed, a little thrill jolting through her when he nodded in response. It was strange, being needed like this. It was… well, nice wasn't the right word for Killian breaking down silently on her shoulder, but that was the word that kept coming to mind. She was helping; and not in the, 'I'm going to put the corrupt bastard bringing down this precinct' way in which she was used to. No, this whole situation with Killian was something new. It was terrifying and satisfying and all of those things that she'd read about but never really thought were for her.

Not that she was going to tell him that.

"Let's just try to get some more sleep, okay?" she asked when he'd finally calmed down.

Killian didn't say anything, just sat up fully and pulled his shirt over his head. He maneuvered himself so that he was sitting back against the mahogany headboard and lifted his arm with a jerk of his head.

"You aren't going to sleep?" Emma asked, concern coloring every word.

Killian just shook his head, wrapping his arm around her and tugging the blankets up over their hips to ward off the room's chill. Emma tucked her head under his chin, scratching lightly through the hair on his chest, hoping to ease the tumultuous thoughts she could feel running through his mind. The pattern made her sleepy, however, and Killian was still tense when she fell asleep.

"Emma, luv," Killian's voice filtered through vague dreams of chasing her own tail. "Come on, wake up. You're going to be late."

Emma opened her eyes and grimaced; there was far too much light coming through his bedroom window for her liking. She rolled over so she could look up at Killian.

He looked awful.

"Did you sleep?" she asked, only now remembering that he hadn't slept any on the ship, either.

Killian smirked. "No, but I called in sick. If I can't be there, I don't want to be there. I'll sleep while you're nailing Isaac to the floor."

Emma smiled but then got a glimpse of the time on her phone and scrambled out of bed. "Shit!"

Killian's laughter followed her out the door, still trying to button her shirt.

Killian was pacing the length of the apartment by the time Emma called him. It had been several hours - several hours too long - if someone would have asked.

"Well?" he barked into the phone without bothering to say hello.

He heard Emma's exhausted laugh before she said, "We got him."

Killian hung up before asking anything else. He was headed for the precinct, no matter what she said. He got there just in time to see David dragging a squirming Isaac from the interrogation room and Emma leaning smugly against the doorframe.

"It's all gone," Heller simpered. "My life."

David said something that Killian couldn't hear, but he heard Isaac's answer clearly.

"A lifetime of bad bosses. People who fancy themselves heroes, pushing around people like me. It was my turn to win."

Killian stepped out into the hallway, stopping them in their tracks. "Looks like you don't win this time, mate," he sneered before turning on his heel and making a show of ducking back into the stairway. He needed Emma to follow him. He needed to know they were going to get Gold.

"We got Isaac to fold, but Gold never came to work this morning," Emma began without bothering to exchange pleasantries. "I'm getting a warrant for his arrest now, but if he's gone to ground…"

"He killed her?" Killian asked, doubting himself only now, when they were so close.

Emma nodded, reaching out for his hand. "Isaac kept the real footage on a jump drive in a deposit box down the road. Gold had him swap out the footage, just like you thought. All I had to do was show him the ring and he started talking."

Killian didn't care who saw them. Bloody Gold, himself, could have walked into the stairway and it wouldn't have mattered. He grabbed Emma by the wrist and tugged her into his hold, reaching down with his free hand to tilt her chin up to him. He kissed her with every ounce of feeling he could muster, words completely escaping him to tell her what this meant.

"Killian," she warned when they finally broke apart for air.

Killian just tried to dive back in. She made him feel alive again. She made him feel like he could almost be whole someday. Because of her. Because of-

"This isn't over," Emma reminded Killian, taking a step back and putting her hand on his chest.

"It never is," he threw back. "All the more reason to enjoy the quiet moments. And right now, we have a quiet moment."

Emma nodded. "I know. I just gotta finish filing this paperwork."

"Right. Of course. Go ahead, but don't tell me you're not avoiding me anymore, because I'm actually quite perceptive. And this?" he gestured between the two of them. "This is still avoiding me."

Emma nodded, looking down at her shoes. "I know, and I'm sorry. You deserve-"

"I deserve to choose what I deserve, luv. Just give me a chance, yeah?" Killian ducked his head as he raised both eyebrows, questioning her, letting her see how serious he was.

"Be patient," was all she could give him, pushing up on her tiptoes to brush a featherlight kiss over his cheek. Her fingers tangled in his and she squeezed before walking away.

"I've all the time in the world," Killian mumbled, just loud enough to hear. "Unless Gold finally decides he's had enough of his games and kills me."

Emma's steps faltered, but she didn't turn around.

Killian sighed, turning his own back and making his way up the stairs towards his desk. He was exhausted, but he had worked on less sleep in the past. Stakeouts and nights spent awake watching Liam breathe, praying that the seizures would grant his older brother a few hours' rest had prepared him for this. Taking Heller down was only half the battle. If Gold had somehow gotten wind of Emma's success, he'd go to ground and it would take a wing and a prayer to find him.

The hell with warrants, Killian knew that they wouldn't take Gold alive, and that meant breaking a few rules. Emma would have to forgive him later.

Killian slipped back out of the stairway, looking around to see what everyone in the bullpen was doing. Mills was bent over his desk, writing furiously in a notebook. Scarlet and John Little were throwing a paper ball back and forth while talking out an aspect of their case. Everyone else was either out on a case or to lunch.

Perfect.

Killian slipped into Gold's office, shutting the door behind him and digging his flashlight out of a pocket. He was glad, for once, that the crocodile kept all his blinds shut when he wasn't there, as if his subordinates cared what his office looked like without him in it. Moving quickly, Killian rifled through desk drawers and filing cabinets, looking for anything that would tell him where Gold had gone.

There was nothing.

Killian slammed the cabinet door shut in frustration, bending over the desk and supporting his weight on his hands. Bloody hell, he thought angrily, I just need something!

The voicemail light was blinking on Gold's phone.

It was a hail Mary, but Killian lifted the receiver and hoped that the old man didn't password protect his private phone.

He didn't.

"I see you've stepped in it again, Robert," a voice echoed sinisterly over the line. "I took care of Nottingham after he talked to Miss Swan. I'm tired of cleaning up your messes, but I'll get you out of the country and you'll owe me. Meet me at Cerberus' Warehouse and I'll have your paperwork ready."

Son of a bitch.

He didn't have time to find Locksley. He didn't have time to find Swan. If this wasn't legitimate or if Gold had decided to take his chances, then Killian would be pulling her from the investigation for no reason. Gold could get even further away. Whoever was on the other end of the line had admitted to orchestrating Nottingham's… God, was Keith dead?... it didn't matter. Killian had to get to the warehouse, and he had to get there now.

Following a lead at Cerberus warehouse across town

He wasn't going to bother her and risk the whole investigation, but Killian wasn't going into a situation like this without someone knowing how to find him, either.

The warehouse had been long abandoned, that much was clear as Killian drove up to the front gate. He put the car into park and grabbed his vest off the front seat. Already sprinting over to the door as he velcroed the straps into place, Killian wasn't quite prepared to find the door wide open.

He should turn around.

"I don't know what else you want from me, Hades," Gold's familiar voice was just recognizable beyond the door.

Hades?! Killian thought, drawing his weapon and stepping inside. What have you gotten into, you bloody crocodile?

Killian cleared the cavernous room as best he could, making a quick beeline for where he heard Gold and another man arguing. He had no idea how he was going to explain this, but thoughts of warrants and backup were so far beyond his thought process that he just moved on.

"Put your hands up, you bloody bast-" Killian swept into the room, gun raised, sighting on…

Nothing.

There was no one in the room; just a goddamned tape recorder that looked as if it came out of a bad 80's movie. Killian stared for a moment, his brain trying to process what he was looking at.

He never heard the man step up behind him, just heard the deafening thwack of what he would realize later was a 2x4 colliding with the side of his head.

…

The world swum sickeningly around him. Bells rang constantly in his ears, making him even more dizzy. His stomach threatened to bring up the breakfast he'd choked down while waiting for Swan to call him. Even the minimal light in the warehouse was making his eyes water.

Of course it had been a bloody trap. He could see now that it was designed to lure whomever was leaking information to Internal Affairs into making just this mistake.

And he'd leapt in with both feet like a goddamned rookie.

Liam would have his head.

Killian roughly shoved away thoughts of his brother when he heard the creak of the warehouse door being lifted again. He prayed to anyone, anything who would listen that it was Swan or Locksley or even some teenagers breaking into the old building to do who-knew-what.

It wasn't.