When Killian finally managed to calm Emma down, he gently eased her onto the sofa before telling her, "I'm gonna go and grab you a glass of water. I need to call this in too, okay?"

"No, you can't," she begged, her hand shooting out to latch onto his arm once more.

"I have to. It's procedure," he explained softly. "This is evidence in three separate homicides, which now proves our theory that they're linked. I have to follow procedure here, Miss Swan. If I don't, then when we catch this creepy bastard, he could walk free because of it. Is that something you could live with?"

Emma's lip trembled softly with a fresh wave of tears. "It'll ruin my career," she whispered.

Killian gently pried her hand off his arm to crouch down in front of her. "Well, I'm sorry, but you're getting no choice in this matter," he told her firmly. "Three people have died, Miss Swan. I'm sorry that their loss of life might ruin yours, but at least you still have one. They weren't quite as lucky. Now, I'm gonna go and fetch you a glass of water and call this in, do you understand me?"

"You think I don't know that?" she shot back. "You think their deaths aren't constantly on my mind? That I don't wake up every morning and hate myself for being the reason that they're dead? Do you honestly think I'll ever get those fucking images out of my head? I know this is my fault. He makes that pretty fucking obvious with every letter and goddamned finger he sends me. And I know I've probably made things worse by trying to convince myself that it was all some kind of sick joke. But I'm just doing my best to protect my career. Because right now, it's the only thing that's stopping me from ending my own life."

Killian's ire calmed a little at the haunted look in Emma's eyes. He could see the way her fingers twitched, as her eyes darted over to the liquor cabinet in the corner of the room, before settling back on his face. And he hated himself a little for what he'd said. He didn't know much about Emma Swan, beyond her choice of career. He would wager that Ellie knew more about her than he did. But in that moment, she looked so much like a lost little girl.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean that," he offered. "This case is just getting under my skin and I shouldn't have taken that out on you. Or implied that you didn't care. But I have to call this in. I'll make sure the department is as discreet as they can be, though. I promised we'd keep you safe. That means concealing your identity too. Okay?"

Emma finally nodded her agreement and Killian offered her arm a gentle squeeze before he stood once more. "Which direction is your kitchen?" he asked. He wouldn't be surprised if the damned house was like a TARDIS – bigger on the inside than it looked from outside.

"Through there," she replied tonelessly, as she nodded her head over her shoulder.

Killian smiled softly down at her to show that he'd heard what she'd said, before he set off to find the room. As he did, he pulled out his phone to call in what had happened. It took him as long as the call he'd placed to locate Emma Swan's kitchen. He passed what appeared to be a music room; along with a bathroom; and another lounge, before he finally stepped into the marble and cherry wood of her kitchen.

"Jesus, how many rooms does one girl need?" he mumbled to himself, before he started pulling open cabinets in his hunt for a glass. He had to admit, she kept the place pretty clean and orderly. Although, he was willing to bet that was more likely a result of her cleaner, or her mother's actions, rather than her own. Emma Swan didn't look like the kind of girl who would enjoy getting down on her hands and knees to scrub the floor.

He finally found the crystal glasses that matched the tumbler he'd taken from her earlier that evening, on the other side of the kitchen. The fridge was easy enough to locate, and there were small bottles of water inside of it that he assumed she would prefer over tap water. Emma Swan didn't look like a tap water kinda girl either. Killian tucked two of them into the crook of his arm, before he made his way out of the room and back through the maze of corridors to find the lounge once more.

Emma was no longer sat on the sofa when he finally made it back. She'd returned to pacing in front of the fire once more, with another glass of amber liquid in her hand.

"Hey," he declared firmly.

She jumped a little at the sound of his voice, but continued her pacing. Killian sighed as he sat the bottles and glass onto the small coffee table, before he approached her again. "This," he explained, pulling the glass out of her hand, "doesn't help."

"You're wrong," she shot back, reaching for the drink he'd taken from her. But before she could touch it, Killian upturned it into the same potted plant as had the last time. He sat the empty glass down on top of the cabinet, while she continued to glare daggers into the side of his head.

"You only think it does," he countered. "Trust me, the bottom of the bottle isn't as satisfying as you think it is. I know you've been through a lot recently, but this isn't the answer."

"And how would you know that?"

"I've been doing this job long enough," was all he told her.

Emma didn't have time to say anything else, as they were interrupted by a sharp buzz from her front gate, and she jumped a little at the sudden noise.

Killian found himself wondering if she'd been jumping every time someone rang that bell, since the first package had arrived. And like before, he found his anger calming a little at the thought of her being so scared in her own home.

"Wait here," he told her, as his hand dropped down to cover the gun that was sat on his hip. He assumed that it was the crime scene team that had arrived, ready to collect the evidence. But given what he'd learned that evening, he was taking no chances.

Thankfully, Killian recognized the voice of his own people, and their van, when he saw it on Emma's security monitor. He also identified the dark SUV following behind it as David's, so he didn't hesitate to buzz them through the gate, before making his way into the hall to wait for them by the front door.

"Wow, we are definitely in Hollywood now," David whistled, as he made his way up the drive and over to the open door his partner was holding for him. "Whose place is this?"

"Do you remember that singer that Ellie loves?" Killian asked softly, casting a look over his shoulder to see if Emma had decided to follow him out. At David's nod of agreement he added, "Her."

"Shit! What the hell is she doing caught up in all of this?"

"The killer seems to be some kind of crazed super fan," Killian whispered. "His letters go from declaring his love for her, to blaming her for making him kill the victims. And he's targeting people that he believes have hurt her."

"Shit," David cursed again, as he slipped through the door. "Nice place, though."

"Too fucking nice," Killian snorted. He waited for the crime scene techs to get their stuff together before he guided everyone through the hall and into the lounge once more.

Emma was pacing in front of the fire again. But this time, she was sipping from a bottle of water, instead of a glass of whiskey.

"Miss Swan?" Killian called out softly, in an attempt not to spook her.

It didn't work.

Emma almost covered herself in the water with the way she jumped.

"It's okay," he reassured her. "This is my partner, Special Agent David Nolan. And these are our crime scene techs. They're gonna take a look at the packages you've received, okay?"

"Okay," she whispered back, before downing the contents of her bottle in one long pull.

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