A/N: Thanks for sticking with me! I think I wrote this next section really well.. don't let me think that it if it isn't true! I finally show off some plot here! Ready? Anywhoo, I've found that I really love swapping POV's, so let's take a look into Gilbert's mind.. Again, please try not to hate Gilbert for existing.. CaptainSwan 4evr.

Sometime after 8pm

Gilbert didn't know when exactly he began to care about Emma Swan. Two years, he knew her, and the feelings just creeped up on him, slamming - full force - into his chest when he heard the chief telling her over the phone that her apartment no longer existed.

Two years ago, she was a new face. A novelty. A storm of blond curls and red leather wreaking havoc on his department. He remembered, first, thinking about her physical looks, finding her attractive, and wanting her as any man wants a strange, beautiful woman. He never thought he'd see her again, and he was wrong. He loved that he was wrong.

But she was never just another woman.

She was fierce, tough, a bad ass. She let him in little by little, a moment here, a laugh there, a moment of clarity when she admitted something personal, even if it was her favorite tv show, or a book she read, or music she listened to. Every moment, a chip of her armor was placed aside, and apparently, his feelings for her grew without his realization.

When had he begun to fall for her? And why the hell hadn't he realized this? Seemed like an important detail to have overlooked.

That's why, two hours after the chief had told her, and she was still unreachable, Gilbert gave his commanding officer one look before walking out on his job. They didn't need to speak. They didn't need a lengthy conversation. The chief just nodded, knowing, better than he would have after an attempt at verbal conversation.

It hadn't taken Gil long to find her. She was at his first guess, and it nearly broke him to see her standing there. She was practically comatose, standing on the sidewalk, staring off into space in the general direction of the fire. She was the strongest woman he knew. But everyone had a breaking point. He hadn't thought anything could break her. What he would give to have been proven right, this time.

He stood right in front of her, for nearly ten minutes, trying to get her attention, trying to pull her back. He practically shouted, running his fingers through his long hair. She looked so vulnerable. He knew she was in physical pain, two broken ribs she had admitted to after the hospital, but he had to get her out of this state. Somehow.

Out of ideas, he touched her arm as gently as possible before reaching with his other hand for her other arm. When she didn't flinch in pain, he gently shook, careful not to jolt her. He didn't know what else to do without causing her more physical pain.

Her eyes began to focus, then his words finally felt like they landed.

"Are you with me? Emma!"

"I-" she swallowed hard, but he gave her time to compose herself. She licked her lips, and he knew she was getting there. "I think I zoned…" She stood for a good minute or two, then blinked, shaking her head. "I'm okay."

God, her voice was weak.

He knew she didn't have many people in her life, and none that he knew to contact. Instead, he put his arm around her shoulders, nudging her in the direction of his car. She could yell at him later, he knew she probably would, but for now, he had to get her away from here.

He spotted her bug parked a few blocks away, on the way to his place. He tried asking if she needed anything from the vehicle, but she was idly staring out the window. He messaged the chief, notifying him of the location, so the bug wouldn't be towed. That was the last thing she needed.

At his place, he walked her to his couch, got her water (grateful she drank it) and made grilled cheese sandwiches, and hot cocoa with cinnamon. He wondered when he had picked up this trivial information about her, but that really didn't matter. He knew it, so he used it.

She took the hot drink with the ghost of a smile, nibbled on the food absentmindedly, but he knew that was the most he could ask for. When it was an hour till midnight, with no progress, he helped her up before guiding her to his room, telling her she could have his bed, unsure if she really heard him, before he closed the door.

It felt like an unbearable barrier between them. He didn't want to leave her alone. He wanted to help her. Hold her. Show her she was cared for. Show her she was safe. But he knew he was already across that line she drew around herself, and would have to pay for it when she gathered her wits.

He shuffled back into the living room, feeling utterly defeated.

He slept on the couch.

Backing up, sometime after 6pm

Emma was heart broken.

After the chief had told her about her apartment, she just didn't believe it. She couldn't.

She completely forgot the tacos, driving straight to her apartment, only to be sent on a detour where barricades and flashing lights kept her from her destination. She ended up parking a few blocks away, walking to the scene, only to discover -

The whole place was smoldering wood, ash, concrete, and metal beams. Like a giant bonfire. It looked so much smaller, the space between buildings. Thankfully, it was contained to just one building.

When asking a fireman what happened - they had no idea. A six story building reduced to rubble, they didn't have many clues to go off of. They'd have to wait for the arson investigation - because, of course, there would be one.

Then she overheard them talking about the people who had been trapped inside - most had gotten out, either on their own or with a fireman's help, but there was at least one fatality. Her heart broke a little more, after hearing that.

She stood on the sidewalk, staring in bewilderment. Sure, she didn't have much, but she still had her life, and her most important possessions were in her car. Her baby blanket, her most used electronics she always kept with her, and most of the things she needed for work, all safe in her bug.

She was lucky. And felt guilty over feeling that way, knowing just how many people lost so much of their lives, not just their homes, and her home might as well be that damn, stolen, car.

Her stakeout the night before, the battle that broke two ribs, kept her from going home. She'd gone straight from the stakeout, to the station, to the hospital, to the campus -

What if the dream had never happened? Would she have been on an all-night stake out? Would she have gone to the hospital for her injuries, or been kept away from her home other than that, and her classes? Would she have been in there? Would she have made it out?

She stood there, staring, not sure what to do with herself, as firemen bustled around, paramedics came and went, families standing in small groups, huddled together.

She had no idea two hours passed without her moving an inch, her forgotten phone buzzing in her back pocket - she had never turned it back on, and now, she didn't even realize people were calling, texting, emailing, sending messages on facebook...

She'd eventually find out everyone she knew contacted her, which was a short list that began with Joey and ended with Holly. Even 'Ruby' had called her. The building fire was all over the news.

Oblivious, she stood, until she was being gently shaken, and she began to focus on what was directly in front of her - the worried face of Gilbert Russo, his gray-blue eyes wrecked with panic that faded into relief as she became more aware.

And then her hearing came back in a whoosh before she realized her ears had ever stopped working.

"Are you with me? Emma!"

"I-" her mouth was dry, and she had to lick her lips and try to swallow to get her mouth working again. "I think I zoned…" She stood for a good minute or two, then blinked, shaking her head. "I'm okay." But her voice felt small.

The next hour was a blur. Driving. Stairs. Water, damn her throat was dry. Hot cocoa, she was grateful for hot cocoa, and grilled cheese. Then a strange room, and the feeling of being left alone.

She sat on the bed, unaware of the time, unaware of the person on the other side of the door. She eventually fell back onto the bed in exhaustion, drifting to sleep staring at little glow in the dark stars scattered around the ceiling.

5:30 am

Emma woke slowly, smelling a pleasant, unfamiliar scent. It took her a while to remember everything, but when she did, she sat up straight, wincing at the pain in her ribs from her sudden movement. She was in Gilbert's apartment. His room. His scent. She was somewhere between pissed, and embarrassed. She never wanted anyone to see her like that -

She made her way through the room, steaming, opening the door roughly - she was met with the hallway, which she was at the end of. She walked down it, peeking into the bathroom - it was cleaner than hers (and she had to push past the fact that she no longer had a bathroom… or shampoo, or a loofa, or her favorite towel). The other door in the hall opened up to a small bedroom he used as an office. She ignored the sight of the piano keyboard, pushed past the fact that, apparently, he played.

She continued, finding a vaguely familiar kitchen on her left, where a small dining table sat, and on the right was the living room. This room made her remember the grilled cheese she barely ate, and the hot cocoa - he had put cinnamon into it. She felt her anger at him dissipate a bit.

But she was still going to give him a piece of her mind -

Until she saw him, laying on his worn leather couch, the blanket mostly fallen off of him onto the floor. He looked completely different without a smile on his face, or the laughter in his eyes. He looked peaceful, though a little worn and ragged. She liked the sight of the stubble that had grown -

But she wasn't going to think about that.

It hit her - he did it again. He had taken care of her. He'd put her first, giving her his room, letting her personal loss take over his evening, and she had no idea how to handle that. How was she supposed to react? How did normal people react? Say thank you? Somehow, those words seemed to fall short.

He even remembered she liked grilled cheese and hot cocoa with cinnamon.

She gingerly sat in the armchair next to the couch, looking around. It was sparse, but homey. There were photos of him and his adoptive parents, she knew because he had similar photos at his work desk. He'd always been open about himself, a stark contrast to herself. There were more photos, of him and others fishing, photos of happy people at happy events. A small tv, a bookshelf, a rug that looked like it was ancient, but felt good on her feet. She finally noticed the end table, where both their phones were plugged in. He must have had an extra cable, and charged hers too.

He was thoughtful. Caring. How the hell was he into her? She was broken, damaged, undeserving. She rarely thought of anyone other than herself - but she also kept people at arms length so she wouldn't have to, but here he was, and she was woefully out of practice saying a simple fucking thank you.

She stood carefully, looking around more. She found what she was looking for, in a pile of mail, finding his address, double checking it against the number on his apartment door, before ordering breakfast from a delivery app, pushing past the urge to check her notifications - she had a lot.

She was not a good cook, and saying thank you with watery eggs that didn't even belong to her didn't seem right. When the app showed the delivery about ten minutes out, she found his coffee supplies, and made a pot. She felt weird using his coffee. She felt a little like she was stealing.

She heard a grumble from the living room, turning to look at him, padding over. He was sitting up, his face in his hands, his muscles flexing through his tee.

"Hey." She breathed out. Somehow, seeing the back of him knocked the breath out of her.

He turned abruptly, shock behind his grey-blue eyes.

"Emma…" a small smile graced his lips. "I'm glad to see you're doing better."

There was a knock at the door, and Emma felt the heat rush to her cheeks. It was probably the food, but she realized this was his apartment, his front door.

He stared toward it in confusion.

"Do you mind, if I go get that?"

"Um.."

She took it as a yes, walking with a quick pace, opening the door to accept the delivery, before turning back. He figured out what had happened, but looked surprised at the turn of events. He was probably expecting her to blow up at him. That was her usual response, anyway, but this is New Leaf Emma… or whatever.

"You didn't have to-"

"You didn't have to find me, and bring me into your home."

He cocked a grin as she moved the food into the kitchen. It was so damn domestic, she wasn't really sure what the hell she was doing. But it seemed to be okay so far, so she decided winging it would work out okay.

She was right. They spent the morning in the kitchen, talking about nothing at all, over breakfast tacos and fresh coffee, until he went to shower (but not before offering her the first turn). She didn't have any spare clothes, but he offered her some of his. A hot shower, fresh tee, and basketball shorts never felt so good even though she opted to go completely commando underneath.

He offered to take her shopping for replacement clothing, but she felt she was already trespassing enough as it was. She'd never forget what he told her in response to that.

"You're always welcome here. No matter what." It felt so loaded, so full of some unspoken meaning for such a simple sentence.

Instead of dwelling on that she asked if he'd mind taking her to her bug. Of course he was happy to help, checking the news for the weather first - but it was still on the news about the fire. He almost turned it off in favor of checking his phone app, but she stopped him - she wanted to see it.

The person who had died in the fire, was the woman who looked like Tinkerbell from her dream.

Storybrooke, Maine

Belle opened the door carefully, peering around it. She was in the warehouse, shelves all around, full of boxes and knickknacks. There was an open section of the building, she knew, just a few shelves away from her current location. She glimpsed a hospital cot at the end of the row. But she had to be careful about this, or… well. All could be lost.

She'd spent the last four days in near-isolation. The entire town had been taken. She'd tried to warn Emma, David, Snow, Hook, Regina, anyone… but her phone battery had died (who made these blasted devices anyway?!) and she couldn't find anyone until it was too late. (Anyone except for Grumpy, who tried to help - until he was captured, too.) All this new world technology and she couldn't help prevent this catastrophe from happening.

She had almost been captured that first day. Say what you will about Grumpy, the man did save her, sacrificing himself in the process. They both knew, though unspoken, that she had a better chance at figuring this out than he did.

She just needed information, and a plan.

The coast seemed clear, so she shuffled as quietly as possible to the first cot, taking in the occupant. It was Ruby, hooked up to a machine. Belle glanced around again, looking for cameras, or anywhere someone could be laying in wait, before she took in the woman on the cot, the needle in her arm, the sticky things attached to her skin. Belle looked around again before examining the machine.

It was stupidly simple to turn off the alarm. But what would happen if she unplugged the other woman? She couldn't risk unplugging her, possibly killing her, before finding out what was going on.

It took her entirely too long to move around. It wasn't in her nature to move in the shadows, in hiding, but she had to. Eventually, she found a small room where people were milling about.

That damn woman was behind all this.

She got close enough to listen, staying hidden as best she could.

They really weren't giving her much to go on, but they did leave at various intervals.

When the room was finally empty, she spotted the binder that looked promising. She snatched it as swiftly as possible, returning to her previous position with a sigh of relief.

Books, reading, she could do.

She took the binder, falling back on a much more secure position - least, it felt more secure. It was a corner of the warehouse they had no reason to check, had two exit points, was poorly lit, but would have to do.

Swiftly, she read the table of contents. It wasn't just a manual on the machinery, but also had information on the drug they were using. It looked like all she had to do was unplug them, after all. But it would take, least, 30 minutes for any of them to wake, if she read the medical jargon correctly.

She'd have to be careful. It was a risk, but she had to get people out.

She made her way back around, zeroing on the closest cot to a good escape route, just in case.

It was Tinkerbell.

Did you see this twist coming? Any idea on the connection between Belle, Tink, and Emma? Any ideas on who the damn woman is?