Killian was going to make sure his brother died a horribly tragic death. Liam wouldn't stop trying to shove pills down his throat and scowling disapprovingly every time his younger brother tried to so much as stand on tiptoes to put away a cereal box. He loved Liam; he did. And there was no one he'd have rather had sitting by his bedside when he woke up in the hospital. But it had been a very long two weeks and the doctor had finally cleared him for light activity and Liam was still mother henning.

And they'd missed a perfectly good sailing trip the weekend before because Liam had deemed him too much of an invalid to risk the surf. It was already September; they didn't have many weekends left to sail. If any.

Killian sighed. He hadn't been much better when Liam had finally been released from the hospital after… Killian bit those memories off before they could drag him down again. Liam was fine; he may not be able to pass fitness tests and firearms proficiency exams any longer, but he was whole and mostly happy working as a private investigator and being a general nuisance to Killian's plans to accelerate his recovery.

He had to get back to work. Soon.

Sighing for what seemed the thousandth time, Killian flipped back to the front of the file he'd amassed on Gold, looking again for anything he might have missed in the dozens, hundreds, thousands of times he'd read through it already.

"Killian, I made some lunch. Did you want any… are you okay?" Liam came in the room and sat down beside him on the couch, ducking down until he could look in Killian's eyes. "Do you need more-"

"No! Liam, I am fine!" he shouted, dragging his fingers through his hair and pulling until the dull headache behind his eyes blossomed back into a full-blown migraine.

Liam started to get up. "I'll just leave you to it then, aye?"

"I'm sorry," Killian apologized quickly, his hand darting out to Liam's knee, keeping him in place on the couch. "I didn't mean to snap."

It was Liam's turn to sigh. "I know you're frustrated, little brother. I get it. Truly. But-"

"I know that, Liam. I know you get it. I'm sorry." Killian looked up apologetically, seeing a now familiar melancholy just below the surface in Liam's eyes. He knew his brother would never admit to it, but being sidelined had affected Liam far more than he insisted.

"What are you looking at?" Liam peered over his shoulder, trying to see the evidence report.

Killian handed it to him in resignation. "What else?"

"Oh, Killian," Liam murmured, flipping through the file with a practiced eye. "I thought you had moved on from-"

"Moved on? What, I should just forget her? Forget that the bloody bastard killed my…" he broke off in half a sob, curling in on himself in spite of the company.

He was safe, he was whole… despite what the gaping hole Milah's death had left behind in his heart made him think. He still had his brother. He and Liam were still together. He didn't need anything else. The mantra was an old habit; not exactly calming but enough to give Killian some perspective when he felt off balance.

Liam dropped the file and laid a hand on Killian's back, his thumb soothing between the shoulder blades. "Of course not, little brother. That's not what I meant. She's always going to be a part of you, but she wouldn't want this for you." He waved his hand over the folder, then up at Killian as if that explained everything.

It pretty much did.

Killian shrugged helplessly. "I have to see him every day. See him sitting there, pleased as punch in his bloody office, lording it over all of us. Lording it over me. He killed her, Liam. He killed her and the only thing I can do about it is read this bloody file and hope that somehow, someday, he screws up."

"You could leave the department," Liam offered hesitantly. "You don't have to torture yourself every day. Come work with me. The hours are better, the pay is better when we have cases… it's less dangerous."

It was an old offer, one Killian had turned down countless times before. And did again.

"I'm just saying, Killian, you don't have to-"

"I know," he interrupted. "But if I leave, he wins. And I can't… I won't let him win. Milah deserves more than that. Better than that."

Liam nodded. Killian knew his brother hadn't expected anything different. But what he said next did surprise him. "Do you have another copy of this? Maybe I can find something that you've overlooked. Use some of my contacts outside the department's resources to find what you can't get access to."

"You'd do that?" he asked incredulously. Liam hadn't liked Milah much, Killian knew, but he wouldn't hold that against her now. But he'd never offered before. He'd never taken more than a passing glance at the file, as if looking into his former commanding officer was off limits, somehow. Killian had never thought that he'd-

"Of course," Liam assured him, tucking the file under his arm.

And that was that. Killian supposed he shouldn't have been surprised. Liam was his brother, and that was all that mattered.

"Now come on, little brother," Liam ordered as he stood up, still clutching the file. "I made lunch and then we're going to the cabin for a few days before your medical leave is up."

"Aye, Captain," Killian snarked, pushing himself to his feet and silently cheering when Liam didn't step in to make sure he didn't get dizzy or fall.

Maybe he wouldn't make sure that Liam died a horribly tragic death for all the mother henning he'd done, after all.

Everything was super glued to his bloody desk.

Killian glared at Mills, at Locksley, and at Nolan's quickly retreating back, but none of them looked apologetic in the least. He flicked angrily at a pen, sharp pain stinging his fingernail when it - like everything else - didn't so much as twitch.

"Welcome back, Jones!" Locksley crowed. "Glad to see you're on the mend."

The doctor had prescribed another week of desk work before he could be cleared to return to the field, but it was better than staying at home - and it might take him that long to fix the mess his partners had left for him, anyway. He grumbled some sort of response, pulling at the pen in earnest now.

This was going to take forever.

Still, it was better than staying at home under Liam's all too watchful eye.

"Jones!" Gold called across the room and his frustration rose another ten notches. He couldn't catch a break. He just need- "Now, Lieutenant!"

"You'd better go, sir," Mills said quietly, his cheeks a little pink and looking anywhere other than Killian's desk.

Killian rose from his chair - a little surprised to find that he wasn't super glued to the cushion - and glared without heat at the kid. "I've told you a hundred times, lad, it's Killian or Jones. I don't want to be called 'Sir'; never have."

Henry nodded reluctantly, but it was an old argument and one Killian wasn't likely to win any time soon.

"We'll work on it, Rookie," he sighed. Killian clapped the kid on the back before moving across the bullpen leisurely and accepting everyone's 'welcome back' and 'glad you're okay' with only a slight tinge of pink staining his cheeks. The longer it took him, the-

"I said now, Jones!" Gold shouted and Killian bit back a smug grin. One of these days, drawing the commanding officer's ire was going to bite him in the ass, but today was not that day.

Gold was fuming by the time Killian made his way into the office, flopping into the chair across from the desk and smirking when the captain glared at the clear disrespect. Killian refrained from propping his feet up on Gold's desk - this time - wanting to be able to get to his feet quickly, just in case. Poking the rattlesnake was all well and good - until the day it bit back.

"Did you enjoy your vacation, Lieutenant?" Gold asked, each word dripping in candied venom.

Killian blinked.

Then he blinked again, starting to wonder if Liam was right to suggest he take the rest of the week and return fresh on Monday instead of trying to tough out these last two days before the weekend. "I… vacation?" he asked instead.

Gold smirked. "Of course. Your recent time off from the department."

"You mean…" he trailed off uncertainly. Surely, Gold didn't mean his medical leave. "I haven't been on vacation."

"What else would you call it then, Lieutenant?" Gold was idly playing with a pen, looking down his nose at Killian.

Killian bristled. "I was knocked unconscious," he hissed, his temper starting to bubble to the surface. He knew Gold was just baiting him. It didn't make it any easier.

Two, it seemed, could play at Killian's game. And he was losing.

Gold just shook his head sadly. "Ah, yes, that. You cost the department a fair bit of money with your theatrics, didn't you? You Jones boys are certainly cut from the same cloth. All drama and little substa-"

"Don't you dare demean my brother's sacrifice, Gold. Don't. You. Dare." Killian kept his seat, but only barely. One of these days, he was going to knock the bastard down a peg or three, and he was going to grin while doing it.

But Gold just tutted at him as if he were scolding a small child. "My, that's quite a temper, Jones. Wouldn't want another reprimand to go into your file, would you? It would be awfully difficult to procure a transfer if you keep amassing those insubordination charges."

"Like you're ever going to let me out from under your bloody thumb," Killian muttered sullenly, the anger still boiling, just waiting to overflow.

The look that crossed Gold's face could only be described as sinister. He was satisfied and it turned Killian's stomach. Liam's offer looked more and more inviting every day. He could work with his brother again, not having to wither away under Gold's belittling remarks. He could take Locksley and David and even Mills with him, he thought. It wouldn't be… he couldn't do that to Milah.

God. Damn it all to bloody hell.

Killian clenched his jaw, the muscles twitching violently in his cheek as he bit back a sarcastic retort at the pleased smile on Gold's face.

"So tell me in detail about this farce of a story you've concocted to bilk some more sick time out of the department," Gold sneered. "You want me to honestly believe that your mishap came in the pursuit of the man who tops our Most Wanted board? Truly, dearie?"

If I walk out of this office, Liam will be disappointed. If I walk out of this office right now, Gold will write me up again. If I leap across the room and strangle him, someone will stop me, Killian thought in vain attempt to keep himself seated and to keep himself from doing something his brother would regret later. It would be so easy to walk away from it all, so easy to antagonize Gold to the point where he kicked him back to traffic detail.

But Locksley had benefited from the promotion as well, ill-begotten as it was, and he had a little boy and a wife at home to support. Killian couldn't take this away from him, from them, not for all the grief Gold put him through every day. He was stronger than that.

"I saw an active person of interest from our Top Ten Most Wanted list and I acted in accordance with my training. In pursuit of the suspect, with backup on the way, I was injured in the line of duty. I did not, at any time, pose a threat to the public nor did I discharge my weapon. The suspect eluded capture, and has not - to my knowledge - been spotted again since. I was injured while trying to chase down this suspect, and the review board has already deemed my actions were warranted. Is there anything else" - Killian took a breath and met Gold's eyes - "Sir?"

Gold sighed as if Killian were a wayward child he had to discipline. "You've yet to show me anything worth the chance I took on you, Lieutenant. I would hate to tarnish my department's record by having someone under me who can't pull his weight. Perhaps I was wrong and you and your partner" - Killian growled audibly, to which Gold grinned - "would be better off back in your old positions."

It was like the little imp could read his mind. Roland had just started kindergarten at one of the city's elite preparatory schools - a tuition Locksley couldn't afford on a patrolman's salary. Regina was an up-and-coming assistant district attorney, but townhouses in Back Bay didn't come cheaply. The Locksley family needed this.

No matter what would help Killian sleep better at night.

"If you see fit to transfer us, sir," Killian began contritely, covering a smirk, "then I'm sure that Spencer or Pendragon would be happy to accept us into their divisions."

It was Gold's turn to seethe, not able to stand the other captains in Narcotics and White Collar. He'd sooner chew off his own arm than see one of his men snatched up by those two.

And Killian knew it.

"I'm sure that Nolan and Mills would follow us, of course. We're kind of a package deal now," he added, twisting the knife a little.

Gold snarled before masking his emotions carefully. "No need, of course, Lieutenant. I'm sure that once you're fully cleared to go back in the field, you'll make up the difference."

"Of course." Killian stood before he was dismissed, thrilled to see the flicker of annoyance mar Gold's face.

He waited at attention now, as if he weren't toying with Gold's patience just a moment ago. He stood ramrod straight, eyes fixed on one of the plaques behind the desk. Gold let him stand there long enough to make Killian want to shift, want to turn on his heel and leave entirely. But he had been raised on Liam's patience and steady presence. He could play the long game, he could, and he'd make Gold regret toying with him if it was the last thing he did. So he waited, counting down the seconds while picturing what Gold would look like in handcuffs and prison orange.

"Dismissed, Jones," Gold finally ordered, that hint of annoyance he was so carefully masking in his eyes ringing loud and clear through his words.

Killian smirked, turned smartly on his heel while narrowly avoiding the urge to snap a salute, and nearly marched out of the office.

The second he was past the door, he dropped the act, sauntering back to his desk and throwing himself into his chair. Frustrated, Killian backhanded the pencil cup to his left, biting back a sharp cry when the cup didn't move - he'd forgotten his partners' antics.

"Bloody he-"

A bottle of acetone plunked down in front of him, David's sheepish look serving to abate the anger that was bubbling up. The back of his hand stung, a line of fire that he focused on. Some of the pens had scattered, thankfully free of the superglue, and Killian grabbed one - a Captain Hook pen that Roland had gifted him for his birthday last year - and tossed it across the desk at Robin.

"Oy! My son spent his allowance on that. Be careful!" Robin cried comically before bending down with over the top motions to gingerly pick up the pen from where it had clattered to the floor and placing it reverently on his own desk.

"Your son is five. And I know you doubled his allowance the next week to make up for it," Killian growled, but he knew there was no heat in the glare he afforded Locksley. "Now, what have I missed?"

Robin sighed and looked to David for help. Henry conveniently started scribbling in a notebook, looking for all the world as though he'd stumbled on a breakthrough worthy of a Nobel Prize or a Pulitzer. David thumbed through the file on his desk, brows furrowed. Killian knew he was contemplating what he was going to say next.

Killian sighed. "What did my overprotective git of a brother threaten you with to keep me sidelined for another... what, a week?"

David nodded, still not looking up. "You're not cleared until next week anyway, not really, so it's not like..."

"David." It was an order, and not one Killian had any authority to give. David was the senior officer in this hierarchy, had earned his detective badge before Killian and Locksley had even graduated from the Academy. He was more or less the leader of their little band of misfits within the Homicide division.

He had been - still was - Liam's partner before...

David was in charge, probably always would be.

It didn't matter. Killian wanted to know what he'd missed and wanted to get back to it and his older brother could stuff his overprotectiveness in his other pants.

"He just wants to make sure you're all right before you go out and scare him again," David muttered.

Killian sighed, glared at all of them for good measure, and then uncapped the bottle of acetone. Really, what was he supposed to say? He almost didn't mind when, an hour later, the three of them left him behind to head out to a crime scene.

Almost.

"I can stay," Locksley had argued when the call came in and Killian had waved him off. It wasn't Locksley's fault that he was sidelined, and neither of them were made to sit at a desk all day long.

Only one of them had to and, he reasoned when Locksley still looked hesitant to abandon him, he had an entire desk of office supplies to liberate. Killian promised not to get into trouble with Gold while they were gone if they'd bring him back coffee.

"I'll bring you back a bear claw!" Mills piped up and he looked so bloody pleased with the prospect of helping that Killian couldn't deny him the chance.

So now he sat, smelling strongly of nail polish remover and glaring at every single item on his desk that was still glued down. This was going to take forev-

"Where's your Captain?" a voice interrupted his staring contest with the stapler. Killian wanted to be happy for the reprieve, but the tone of voice made it hard to respond with anything but snark.

"Probably at home waiting for me to call him and complain about his partner's antics," was his knee-jerk response before he looked up to find who was asking.

The confusion on the woman's face wasn't nearly the reaction he was going for. She was stunning, piercing green eyes glaring at him with far more force than his comment had necessitated. This woman had a chip on her shoulder that could have rivaled the Grand Canyon, and she wasn't afraid to let anyone know it.

"Excuse me?" she asked and Killian could hear the careful control in her tone.

He was bored. And probably shouldn't have poked the bear, as it were but, as stated, he was bored. And annoyed at his desk and his partners and… well, he should have known better. "I'm a little busy here, lass. If you want to take a number, I'll get to you after this next pencil comes free."

"You can try and stall me all you want, but I will see Captain Gold and I will investigate this case fully." She jabbed a finger in his face so violently that he flinched - then scowled. "You'd do better to help me out than to deflect, Buddy."

Killian blinked. Then rethought the conversation and realized where he'd gone wrong. "Apologies, lass. I believe we got off on the wrong foot. You're investigating Gold?" This could get interesting.

The woman - the Internal Affairs officer, if his assumptions were correct - scowled back at him. "I didn't say that. But I'm going to do my job and you're not going to get in my way. Understand?" she asked hotly.

"Aye. Lieutenant Killian Jones, at your service. You'll find Gold in his office, and if you need anything else, feel free to ask. I'd be happy to give you my full and prompt attention, if you know what I mean," he said with a bit of a swagger, dripping with enough innuendo that he nearly cringed. Liam's voice was in his head, shouting him down for not being a gentleman, but a plan was already forming in his head. One that required the little mole Isaac, sitting at the desk next to his, to believe he wanted nothing more than a roll in the hay with the attractive woman in front of him.

If the look on the woman's face - full of resigned disgust hiding the frustration and just a spark of something Killian couldn't name - was any indication, he'd succeeded in lowering her opinion of him to somewhere beneath the reputation of a codfish. He didn't like how it made him feel - dirty and far too much like a villain for the shiny badge clipped to his belt.

But Isaac's smarmy smirk and roll of his eyes made up for it.

Perfect.

The woman was still standing there, staring at Killian like she wasn't entirely sure if he should be investigated as well.

"I don't believe I caught your name, Miss…"

"Detective. And no, you didn't," she responded and Killian had to shrug it off.

It wouldn't do to appear as though he cared one way or the other. His relationship with Gold was common knowledge in the Department, but to be seen as too friendly with IA - whether or not it was intentional - wouldn't go over well with the other Homicide detectives.

"As I said, Detective, you'll find Captain Gold in his office. But if you'll excuse me, I'm a bit busy at the moment."

"I can see that," the woman scoffed. She nodded deftly at the bottle of acetone still in his hand. "If all of Gold's officers spend so much time like this, it's no wonder we're investigating."

Now, Killian's snarl was genuine. He could feel the tension building in his shoulders, and wanted to defend the men in his unit. Most of them had nothing to do with Gold's tyranny and didn't deserve her disdain. But he could play the long game as well as the next man, and brushed the comment off as best he was able.

The smirk on her face let him know just how successful he hadn't been.

Sighing, Killian watched as the woman strutted across the bullpen with her head held high against the prejudices that he knew were being formed about her already. It didn't matter that Gold was corrupt, that her investigation into him could only better the Homicide unit and the Boston Police Department in general. All that mattered to them was that she was coming into their home and inferring that they couldn't take care of their own problems.

And Gold was a big problem.

That no one could prove.

He watched her as she entered the captain's office without knocking and then shut the door before Gold could possibly introduce himself or try to influence her opinion of him. She definitely had a spark to her, stubborn and tenacious and he hadn't even exchanged more than a handful of words with her but, God, Killian would do anything to be a fly on the wall when she laid into Gold.

Turning his head back to his work, he watched out of the corner of his eye as Isaac wrote some things down in his notebook and then scurried back to his own desk, clearly done with spying on his target for Gold. For now. Killian would have to be careful if he was going to find a way to help her with her case.

Killian split his focus for the rest of the afternoon between unsticking all of the office supplies and his coffee mug (he was going to murder David and Henry and Robin, and probably his brother as well for that) and how he was going to convince this IA officer to listen to him away from prying eyes and ears.

It would be a fine line to walk, but he'd always relished a challenge. And if it took Gold down in the process? Well, Killian would sleep a little better at night if he knew that Milah's murderer was finally behind bars.

Emma blew out the breath she'd been holding only an instant before she stepped through the captain's door and slammed it shut. She wasn't expecting a warm response, there wasn't an officer on the force who appreciated someone coming in and doing their job for them. But Emma was good at her job and she didn't need some hotshot detective who thought he was God's gift to the police department getting in her way.

And she certainly had no intentions of letting Gold - the sleazy looking man leering at her from behind his desk - get under her skin. He was just another mark, just another bastard who thought that because the state had given him a badge, he was above the law. Emma had dealt with people like him all her life; this one was just a little slipperier than most. He had to be well connected; no one got to his position with his alleged crimes under his belt without someone truly powerful backing him. Emma was determined to find the connection between Gold and his backer so she could take them both down.

Along with anyone else who got in her way.

"Can I help you, dearie?" Gold asked with a sugar-coated sneer, his hands steepled in front of him like he was lord and savior of the Homicide unit.

"You can start by calling me Detective. Detective Emma Swan, Internal Affairs."

If her assignment bothered or surprised him, Gold didn't show it. He smiled genially at her, transforming in an instant from power hungry dictator to benevolent, if protective, supervisor. He was good, she'd give him that. If Emma didn't know what she was investigating him for - fraud, extortion, conduct unbecoming a police officer, excessive force (which in his case seemed an unnecessarily roundabout way to say torture) - then she might have even bought the act. But she'd read the reports and the accusations, seen the evidence that had been dropped on her desk by her own supervisor, and she wasn't going to fall for it. Not from him.

Not when this case could make or break her career and get her off the B-team. She wasn't going to let anything get in her way.

"Always happy to be of assistance to your unit, Miss Swan," he replied, teeth shining through his smile. "May I inquire as to the subject of your investigation?"

"You may not. I cannot, and will not, discuss an ongoing investigation, as you well know. However, you'll see here that I have the approval to conduct my search out of your offices and will expect your full cooperation in this matter."

The words sounded stiff and formal, even though she'd said them to countless men like him over the years.

Gold scowled, some of the veneer falling away from his mask. "You'll have what you need. I'll have Isaac set you up with a desk and a conference room."

Emma bit back the smirk.

Gold turned his back on her, seemingly interested in the file on his desk that he hadn't been reading before she walked in. "If that will be all, Miss Swan?"

"Absolutely…" she paused, a sneer of her own crossing her features at the blatant disrespect, "Mr. Gold."

Gold looked up, utterly startled when she turned his scorn around on him. Then a funny little smile crossed his face and Emma had a bad feeling that she'd just grabbed the tiger by the tail.

After a momentary staredown, Gold inclined his head and reached for the phone. A quick conversation and a moment later a weaselly little man - who looked like he should be selling her something rather than wearing a badge - escorted her to a desk in the center of the bullpen.

Perfect.

Emma scowled at everyone around her, feeling the glares and the judgments that she hadn't yet earned. News traveled fast in a police station, and sometimes it felt like she was wearing a flashing, neon sign screaming out that she was IA. Or worse, as though she was still that lost orphan in another new school with clothes that still smelled like the garbage bag all of her things had been packed in. Unbidden, Emma's eyes tracked around the room, landing on the tousled hair and the hunched shoulders of Killian Jones. He intrigued her; there had just been something under the surface when he'd leered at her. Something that, if she were pressed to think about it, she'd suspect was more genuine than the innuendo had been. Emma's gut told her that he was relevant to this investigation.

She just didn't know how yet.

After making a note that she wanted to interrogate him within the next few days, Emma set about organizing the desk she'd been given. She didn't need to; she already had a list of files she wanted to pull and a list of officers she needed to question based on the evidence she'd already compiled. But jumping right into that wouldn't give her a true feel for the climate of the office she was currently stationed in. Did the men and women working under Gold respect him? Were they walking on eggshells? Did they run their own ship and just afford him the title of captain?

And what about that idle comment Jones had made about his captain being at home?

Emma sighed, dragging her thoughts away from the cocky lieutenant and back to the files in front of her. The officers around her were slowly acclimating to her presence as the hours ticked by; it would be some time, still, before she could truly judge their loyalty to Gold. But, at least it was progress. Eventually, the chatter built back up and the bustle around her began to ebb and flow with the shift. Officers came and went and idle talk and discussion of their ongoing cases filtered through. Emma looked up in time to notice as three men surrounded Jones's desk. Their presence visibly took some of the weight off his shoulders that she hadn't noticed before.

Focus, Emma, she thought sternly, getting up to find a break room and a coffee machine. Jones wasn't important. Not yet, anyway. All of the information that she'd compiled on him told her he was too much of a Boy Scout to be involved with Gold. But she couldn't get him out of her head and she made a mental note to move him to the top of her interview list anyway. There was some reason that he was pinging her radar, after all.

Besides, she thought with a glare as she handed the interview list to Isaac, it will throw Gold off the trail if he's not involved in this.

"I'll be sure to get everyone on board for you, Detective," Heller assured her with a grin that made her shudder. He was definitely in bed with Gold and Emma couldn't wait for the day that she would be able to punch that smarmy smile off his face.

Unable to do that at the moment, however, Emma just nodded and smiled as genially as she could manage when she was already trying to scrub him from her memory. She waited until he had scurried away to pack up her files and those she'd had Isaac make available to her, locking them in her backpack - she'd be taking the most sensitive material home with her lest prying eyes get a little too curious. Emma had gotten all she could out of the first day and there was a bath and a bottle of wine calling her name.

The second she stood up, all eyes turned on her, watching her with a mix of trepidation and hostility that was far too common in her line of work. Without realizing it, she looked for the lieutenant, wanting to see what his reaction was, but Jones was long gone. His partners met her stare with confusion but nothing more. Either they hadn't been read in as to who she was, or they were so far removed from the corruption within their office that they had nothing to lose by her presence there.

It was a surprisingly welcome realization.

It didn't take more than a handful of steps outside the bullpen for the hairs on the back of her neck to rise. She didn't see anything out of place, didn't hear anyone or anything amiss, but she knew she was being followed. Pulling out her personal phone, Emma kept walking while she clicked idly on one of the games that came installed when she'd gotten it. Adding up even numbers to get to 2048 wasn't anything she was actually interested in, but it might just be enough to lull her stalker into a false sense of security. It wasn't anything she didn't expect although the timing was a little more swift than usual.

Every time she stopped, pretending to get caught up in the game or looking around as if she were going to flag down a cab, there was no one there. The feeling didn't go away, though, and Emma knew she'd have to take matters into her own hands if she wanted to get a leg up on whoever was following her. Anyone who didn't want to be seen following her couldn't be up to anything good.

Gold is awfully efficient, she thought as she turned a corner down a convenient alley that would be away from prying eyes and be too good to pass up for her would-be attacker. She tensed at the soft sound of footsteps - careful and measured - behind her. Whoever it was didn't want to seem as though he was following her, but Emma knew better. She continued down the alley, looking up every once in awhile as if she weren't intimately aware with every nook and cranny around this precinct's station. She was nearly at the end of the path, not sure if maybe her own paranoia was getting the best of her, when she felt a hand grab her shoulder.

"Det- oof." Whatever her attacker was going to say got cut off as Emma whirled on him and ploughed her fist into his solar plexus. Before he had a chance to recover, Emma followed her first blow with a well-placed jab to his chin that sent him stumbling back against the brick wall. She stepped into his space, flinging open the folding knife she always kept handy and resting the flat of the blade under his chin, careful not to cut him but enough to send a message.

"You?" she exclaimed in utter disbelief a moment later. Of all the people she'd thought would be willing to do Gold's dirty work for him, Lieutenant Jones was the last of them.

There were tears tracking down his cheeks and his forehead was scrunched in obvious pain. He was wheezing with one arm wrapped protectively around his stomach even as the other reached up to grasp her wrist and keep the cold metal of the knife from cutting his skin. When Killian opened his eyes, they were a bit wild and far too dazed for how hard she'd hit him. Emma hadn't been aiming to incapacitate - only to send a message that she was going to do her job and she wasn't going to be intimidated by whomever Gold had sent to rough her up.

"I..." he gasped a little, "I needed to talk to you."

Huh?

Emma blinked, a bit thrown off by his words. She'd convinced herself so thoroughly that whoever was following her wanted to do her harm that this... she wasn't prepared for this. And still... "I think we said all we needed to at your desk earlier, Lieutenant."

Jones shook his head, risking the movement as she still had the knife to his throat. He managed to let go of his ribs long enough to pinch the bridge of his nose - he looked like he had a migraine.

"Isaac…" he paused when Emma's lip curled at the name, "He was standing behind you at my desk. You can't trust Isaac, lass."

Emma rolled her eyes. Tell me something I don't know, she thought in annoyance.

He huffed, eyes glancing down pointedly towards the knife. Emma let him go, backing up slowly until there was enough space between them that he could sag down so that the wall was holding him up. She didn't fold the blade into its housing, though.

His eyebrow raised at that, but Emma wasn't ready to trust him yet.

"Well? What did you want?" she asked hotly.

He smirked, but there was something in his eyes that made her listen.

"Gold murdered my Milah. I want to help you destroy him."