AN: So, one of the sadder coincidences of my life: my small group at church decided to move from Saturday meetings to Sundays a few weeks ago. I love them dearly, but this fact, my lack of both cable and recording capabilities, my only friend who watches Once living 1200 miles away, and the fact both ABC and Hulu don't let me watch new episodes online until a week after they air means I am perennially one week behind the action on Once and must therefore keep mine eyes away from Tumblr lest the spoilers descend.

(There are other ways to get access sooner, I know, but I want to keep things legal, and Hulu Plus isn't worth it when Once is one of only three shows I watch. The other two are The 100 and Jane the Virgin, which The CW graciously posts online the following day. Shutting up now.)

Suffice it to say...I'm still ghosting around Tumblr, but carefully. In the meantime, I will be keeping my editing clients happy and writing the epilogue for this story. My YA book is on hold because something's gotta give.

Chapter Ten
The cartel

"Hey, dad," Neal began uncertainly. "I need you to check a few facts for me." His voice was heavy, exasperation with himself at even having to make this call just a hair away from being audible in his voice. He looked straight ahead, eyes trained hard on the windshield of the taxi currently under siege by heavy rain. Outside, the street was barely visible.

"What's the occasion, son?"

Neal heard a similar wariness in the older man's tone, equal parts protectiveness and general mistrust of everyone, even his familiars. He exhaled quietly before continuing.

"It's about an investment the firm is making." He paused, assessing his father's likely response. "There's a sleep drug that was supposed to go to trial, until one of the key investors backed out at the last minute. We're taking his place, but I just can't shake the feeling that something is wrong with this. I was wondering if Voyager could look into it."

That had been over a week ago. His son had told him the details of the trade, who he'd made the deal with, everything he knew. He'd burned with anger. It had only been decades of practice that enabled him to respond in the manner of an impartial investigator.

His son knew almost nothing of the inner workings of Voyager. He wasn't allowed to, and even if he were allowed it would have been imprudent to give anything away. Gold reminded himself of that fact as a bulwark against the indignation that was bubbling up as to how he could have been so stupid as to get involved in a trade of this magnitude with Albert Spencer. The shadow investor was almost certainly Smee, in that case. He wasn't sure, at first—and with Liam's death so recent, he was still the only one in the firm who knew the details of their former COO's recent undertakings—but confirming that detail had been easy enough with the help of Detective Swan's now-defunct partner, and he'd relayed the fact to his son soon after.

The question wasn't that Ms. Swan hadn't read the file. She was a responsible and honest detective—she practically glowed with integrity. Rather, it was that she didn't know what to look for. He'd been certain of it as soon as he'd read the detail about the knife: the knife, stolen from Smee's shop, was a code. Many things in the rat's shop were codes. The disappearance and subsequent crash of Ariel's car was no accident, either. The vehicle was destroyed, the knife, of which she had several copies, probably taken to the collector's shop for safekeeping. Ariel is the vehicle, he'd reasoned. Somehow—it doesn't really matter how, he figured—Spencer had gotten Ariel to bring the stuff back for him. Liam, he knew, wouldn't have done it.

The incident had been nearly a year ago. One day, barely a week before he was fired, Spencer had called Liam into his office, having been made aware by one Ariel Fisher that his data engineer had been to Neverland. Spencer asked him to bring back Dreamshade. But Liam reported everything back to him both before and after the escapade with his brother. The accounts were different: The first time, having not known yet that Gold knew about Neverland, he'd explained that Spencer was attempting to sell the rights to an untested sleep drug. It was being developed in the States, he'd explained, which technically made it Cora's domain, but that didn't mean they couldn't investigate. They'd pursued it a bit, with little success.

The second time, which occurred after his return from Neverland, was entirely different. Having been revived by the island spring, Liam had learned its secrets, learning also that his employer was not only familiar with Neverland but was none other than the son of the Pied Piper. He could trust him. He'd told him everything—that the drug, Umbrasom, was not a sleep drug, but was in fact a distilled version of Dreamshade. It was absolutely lethal. It couldn't be allowed to go to trial—if it ever did, it would prove fatal to test subjects. They had to stop it before it started.

He'd known as soon as Neal had mentioned the drug's name exactly what it was—Umbrasom, of all things, as though they weren't even trying to hide the fact it was Dreamshade—Ariel had retrieved it for him. After Liam's death, the car crash was a ruse, meant to eliminate the only other loose end that could connect Spencer back to the fatal drug. And now, Neal's involvement was personal. When the drug proved fatal to test subjects, Neal's firm would be implicated.

It was difficult to construe those facts as anything other than what they were. Spencer knew Neal was his son; he'd have known that Gold would raise all hell to protect him. His son was probably the only person he'd do that for. It was absolutely deliberate.

And yet, even as the facts became clear, he'd had to step back. Spencer's role was apparent; Smee's was not. The two had colluded in the past, but there was yet evidence to collect that he had done so in this case.

For that, he could thank Mr. Humbert. And if Ms. Swan was able to put these last pieces together, perhaps he could thank her, too.

There was still so much to figure out. For every piece she uncovered, dozens of new connections and conditions seemed to surround it. There was the murder itself, a nebulous event with a supernatural side she didn't pretend to understand; there was Neal's case, Spencer's deception, and the seeming motive to kill Liam wound up somehow between the trader and Smee. Then, there was Ariel. Ariel was connected to both, responsible for the death of one, threatened by the other. Ariel had implicated Graham. And as she tried to fit the pieces together, the fact they wouldn't fit yet made it clear to her there was still much more she needed to learn. It was a hopeless feeling, on one hand, but on the other it comforted her with the knowledge that it wasn't her own failing that was keeping her from resolving this puzzle.

Emma pulled out her phone. It was after 8:40; if she was lucky, she would make the 8:45 train. Neal answered on the second ring, but she didn't wait for him to speak. "Neal, it's Emma. I need you to tell me in as much detail as you can remember how you found out who the shadow investor was."

He paused a moment. "I thought we were going to talk about that this afternoon?"

"We are, but something's come up." She held her phone against her ear as she walked, adjusting her bag further up her shoulder as she walked.

"Do we need to reschedule, then?"

"No, I'll still be there. Look, Neal, I just need you to—"

He cut her off. "I just figured you already knew, is all."

"How in the world would I already know, Neal?"

"It was your partner that told me. I figured he'd told you before he told anyone else."

Emma stopped in her tracks, nearly being hit by a throng of bypassers as she did so.

"My partner told you?" she bit out, all thoughts suddenly blank.

Neal didn't speak for a moment. In the silence, it dawned on her: Neal didn't know he'd left the bureau. He had no reason to. Killian did, and Gold did, but if her hunch was correct and Graham was using Spencer to take the fall for Liam's death, Gold had no real incentive to tell Neal Emma's partner had left. In fact, it would be better if he didn't. That way, he could keep an eye on his son while simultaneously letting him make a bad deal that would out Spencer and Smee for insider trading. Then, with the information he received from Graham's file, he would have all the pieces in his hand—

Neal was talking again, and she'd missed the last half of what he'd said. As she stepped back into the stream approaching the subway tunnel, she covered the mouthpiece of her phone, willing herself to remember everything he was saying.

Emma was fuming when she got back to her desk. The meeting with Ariel had been a disaster. Before, she'd had a hunch the girl was hiding something, but now she was sure. Even better, she'd promised her immunity. Whatever she knew, whatever she wasn't saying—whether it was worth the value of what she'd learned, she wasn't sure.

I could technically rescind it, Emma thought. But there was no reason to. Spencer was hunting her because she knew about Dreamshade. Not only that, she was the reason Dreamshade was even in this world. She brought the stuff back for Spencer, yes, but she hadn't actually done anything illegal.

But because her knowledge was a potential danger to him, Spencer had stolen her car and crashed it to make her death look like an accident, probably because he meant to kill her with Dreamshade instead. And that was the problem: she was a complete moron, but she hadn't broken the law.

Noticing there was someone standing at her desk, though, Emma cut her brooding short as she made her way through the cubicles. The expression on Dr. Whale's face told her she'd made the right decision. She quickly shrugged on her composure, stopping a few feet short.

"Hey, any news about the poison?"

"About that. Emma, I need to talk to you. Somewhere without listeners."

"Briefing room," she said, and began to lead the way. He followed, closing the door behind them while Emma set her things on the table. "Yeah?"

"Emma, the poison. I know this is going to sound crazy, but the reason there's nothing like it in the database is because it isn't found on Earth."

"You know it's from Neverland, then?" She asked conversationally.

She wasn't looking directly at him, but from the corner of her eye she could tell that if Whale had been drinking anything, he would have spat it.

It makes sense to tell him, she thought. If Whale knew the poison wasn't from Earth, he probably knew about Neverland. She didn't know how, but she did know that if she was crazy, he was, too, and so was Ariel, and he had information she needed and looking crazy was a chance she was willing to take.

"I've been there," she stated simply when the doctor didn't reply.

After a few moments, he did.

"So it's true," he stated simply. "Captain Hook wasn't lying, the place really does exist."

"Captain Hook?" A hand on her hip, she rolled her eyes, smirking a little. "Is that really what he called himself?"

"You know him?"

"In a manner of speaking." She registered in her mind that once this was over, she was definitely not going to let Killian forget that. After a moment, though, she looked away, the hand on her hip floating up to her hair in her nervous gesture of choice as she contemplated how to explain this.

"I've been to Neverland a few times, only in dreams. His real name is Killian Jones. And yes, before you ask, he is Liam's brother, and he does exist."

"I know, he told me himself. And now I have other questions, but before I forget—"

Emma had been thinking while he spoke, piecing together the facts as quickly as she could, identifying the holes. She interrupted him.

"How do you know Killian—?"

The doctor narrowed his eyes a bit, interrupting her back. "I'll get to that. But Emma, the poison—he explained to me how it came here, told me I needed to tell you. Maybe it will fill some holes in your case."

And with that, Emma stopped talking. She set her jaw, took a deep breath, and reached for her notebook, nodding for him to tell her what he knew.

Much of it was old information to her. Dreamshade was a poison found in Neverland—a thick, purplish vine, she described as the doctor related what he'd learned. One that almost killed me, she thought. Liam and Killian had originally gone there together. They were supposed to retrieve it—the understanding had been that it had healing properties.

But at that point, Emma's knowledge petered out. Emma had woken up before Killian could tell her why they'd gone to retrieve the Dreamshade, or what had happened afterward. There was so much she needed to know, and she was wasting time trying to predict what he would say.

Focus, Emma.

As Dr. Whale continued to explain, she wrote everything down as quickly as she could. He told her everything he knew—how Killian had doubted Dreamshade's healing properties, what Liam had done to prove him wrong, how he was able to return. When he got to the bit about the heart, though, she felt sick. If Graham had given up his heart to stop Neverland from dying, and Liam had taken it in order to return, had Graham killed him to get it back?

Was that even possible?

Her head swam. All of a sudden, the room was not anchored to the second floor of the precinct building—it was awash at sea, and she was holding onto her files as though to a life raft. She had to talk to Ariel. Ariel had said Graham couldn't return to Neverland without his heart—had he been trying to get it back in order to return? Was that what this twisted mess was about?

With a tremendous deal of effort, Emma hauled herself back to the present. Whale was answering her question, telling her how Killian had contacted him—it wasn't any crazier than how he'd contacted her, so she believed him. She had to. In this whole unbelievable mess, anything that made sense had to be wrong.

But there was one thought that gave her comfort. Absent all the paranormal, mystifying connections in the most unbelievable criminal case she'd ever investigated, the thought that Graham didn't have a heart meant he couldn't possibly be in love with her.

As though a great weight had been removed from her back, she felt lighter, stood up straighter, and for the first time in several minutes, met Dr. Whale's eyes.

"Thank you for telling me this," she said, waiting a moment after he finished speaking.

Dr. Whale nodded. "I told him I would. I have to ask, though, what's it like?"

"Dreamshade?" She asked. He shook his head.

"No, Neverland. You said you've been there a few times in your dreams—how does it work?"

"You just wish things," she stated simply. But the look that washed over the doctor's features suggested it was much more than that, as though it explained everything he needed to know. "You wish it, and it happens. Maybe you'll see for yourself."

Emma returned to her desk feeling decidedly more settled. This was excellent—Graham wanting to get his heart back was a motive. Almost as soon as she'd had that realisation, though, her own heart sank. Apart from getting a CT scan and finding that Graham's blood was magically propelling itself around his body, there was no way to prove that he didn't have a heart.

She thought back to the beginning of the case. It had been Ariel's prints on the knife, not Graham's—the knife, which may not have been Ariel's after all, that had been stolen from Smee's shop.

She let out a bitter laugh. The original theory—the knife being looted from the crash site—had been Graham's idea. She'd challenged it then, and she laughed at the thought that this was one of his sloppier cover-ups. If it had been Ariel's, if it had been looted from the crash site, and if he'd known that, then he'd been the one who'd taken it. Then, of course, there was the small problem of the fact the knife had been stolen from Smee's pawn shop. That detail was what had placed the case in her jurisdiction in the first place, and it didn't make sense for Graham to loot it from the site, bring it to Smee, then steal it again.

The only alternative, though, was Ariel. The knife wasn't hers, but it had been Ariel's prints on it. According to the case file, it had belonged to her great-grandfather, Bill Blackbeard. But that had been Graham's idea too—a detail to confirm it as hers, maybe?—and he was the one who wrote the case file.

And suddenly, it clicked. If he'd written the case file, there was no way of knowing how much of it was completely made up.

She stared at the file as though it were the photo of an ex-boyfriend. She narrowed her eyes, exhaled, and threw it in the shredder.

Goodness gracious, have I been out of it lately. I don't know about you, but the change in seasons has thrown me for a loop this year.

I realised this morning that I haven't actually finished writing the epilogue to this story. This draft has been otherwise complete since January, and I put off the epilogue on the pretense of having lots of time to write it...ha. Ha ha. Real life laughs in my face. I promise I will have it done by the scheduled date (April 13th).

Another thing: we're almost to the end of the brain scrambling. There's a little bit more in the next chapter, but the worst of it is now over. Also, I have to confess...chapter eleven is my favourite chapter in the story.

Terms:

COO: Chief Operations Officer. The guy in charge of the internal operations of an organisation. More of a strategist than a tactician (think general vs. diplomat).