You should all know that you'll be getting what you asked for - but keep in mind I never alluded as to how you would get it. Either way, I think I make up for what it lacks with the eventual topics. I actually enjoyed writing this so much (and for those of you who read this and think 'what the hell is she doing?' I have never written crime before. Don't judge.)

After a full day of reconnaissance, Killian was buggered. They all were as they trudged to their respective rooms in the motel, shoulders slumped as they walked. Henry looked like he was about to pass out on the spot and Phillip wasn't far behind. Meanwhile, Emma kept her back straight but there was a lacework of exhaustion beneath her blue irises.

He watched in his peripheral vision as she entered her room, all but falling through the door.

As Killian followed David into their room, he let himself drop onto the bed in almost exactly the same way he had the night before. Only this time, it was around eleven o'clock as they entered their rooms like dead men walking. Outside the sky was black, illuminated only by a spattering of stars.

David landed on the other double bed, sitting on the edge and opening up his suitcase. The younger of the two forced himself up with tired limbs, into a sitting position on the edge of the bed.

"I still don't get it."

"What?"

"Why the un-sub's attacking couples," Killian huffed impatiently, "it doesn't make sense."

David turned a stern eye on the younger man, "Let it go for now – if you keep thinking about it you won't be able to sleep and you'll get no work done tomorrow."

He nodded though he could still feel the clogs turning in his head as he tried desperately to process all the information they had received that day. As it turned out, David would be the one to speak next, his voice conveying his curiosity as he pulled off his shoes.

"What happened between you and Emma yesterday morning?"

Killian paused, watching the Unit Chief carefully.

"Have you not spoken to Emma?"

"I have, but she didn't tell me what happened," he replied, scrutinising the man still sitting on the bed opposite him.

Killian scratched the back of his head, his mind abandoning the need to interpret the case evidence. He wondered if he should express his concerns to David – perhaps he could get through to Emma. He opened his mouth to speak, fully intending to reveal the reality of their spat when some internal force involuntarily made him reconsidered his words.

"We were just arguing because she wants me to stop throwing around innuendos on cases," he lied effortlessly, his expression unchanging even though his mind had gone through several options of approach.

Killian realised it would only be detrimental to reiterate his worries to their Unit Chief for numerous reasons. Firstly, because Emma would be livid when (not if) she found out because David would most definitely seek her out and she would know immediately that her partner was to blame. Secondly, because it would not perturb her in the slightest if her superior became involved, it would only incense her – if Emma was hell-bent on keeping her business to herself than no amount of interference from David was about to change that. If anything, that would worsen Killian's chances of divulging the truth and aiding her accordingly.

And thirdly, Killian felt the need to maintain Emma's trust. She hadn't explicitly demanded he keep the truth of their argument a secret – in fact, they hadn't properly discussed it – but it was an unspoken agreement. There were only so few things she actually allowed Killian to know about her and even fewer still when it came to situations in which she trusted him. But their partnership was void if they couldn't sort out their conflict internally.

So, it was best not to get David involved.

He apparently believed the answer because he smirked and shook his head, "She has a point, you know. Sometimes I can imagine it might be irritating to be on a case and have someone whispering insinuations in your ear at every opportunity," he said.

Killian raised an eyebrow, "You wouldn't be jealous, David? You know you're the only blonde for me."

"Haw haw," the man retorted sardonically, pulling his mobile phone out of his pocket, "I'll be on the phone to Mary Margaret."

"Tell her she needs to stop texting me while you're in the room, would you?"

David levelled him with an unyielding gaze that lacked antagonism, tipping his head down towards Killian who smirked. He shook his head and, with that, got up and moved to stand outside on the balcony. Killian watched the soft white curtains dance in the breeze for a second; unsure of what he wanted to do, before lifting himself up off the bed and walking to the bathroom. After the door had closed behind him, he stripped off his red shirt and black leather jacket and then his jeans.

He stepped into the shower, turned on the hot water and let it wash away the grievances of the day. The irritation of not knowing what the un-sub wanted spilled onto the floor and down the drain, followed by the indignation of not having Emma's trust. He took a deep breath of the steamy air, running a hand through his sodden black hair and exhaling; the pool of concern for his partner seemingly irremovable from his gut.

She was hiding something and, whatever it was, it had her on edge.

He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the cool white tiles that climbed up the shower walls. He would find out what had her so worried, and he would help her – she might hate him for intruding, he might lose some of the hard-earned trust but at the end of the day, he would keep her safe.

He'd already made the mistake of staying uninvolved once in his life. And he wasn't about to make the same mistake twice. Not again. Not with Emma.

He felt his hand twitch as images flooded his mind of a dark-haired woman, shaking in his arms as a pool of red formed around them. Killian told himself to block them out, to ignore the pain that crept up on him like vines latching onto an old, derelict building. And even though he knew he would berate himself for doing so, he looked down at his left hand.

A barely visible pale pink line rand from just under the knuckle of his middle finger about two and a half inches down towards his wrist. The skin there was puckered just enough for someone to deduce a previous injury, though they would never know the internal scars it harboured.

His gaze drifted from his left hand now clenched tightly into a fist, up his muscled arm towards his chest. The vast majority of scars that spattered his muscled chest were from his days on the job – getting shot more often than not was kind of a part of the deal you made when you took on the badge and gun. There was one line, just above his right pelvis bone, that hadn't been made on the job. And, like his hand, it triggered the hatred to manifest within his heart like a disease.

A man with thinning brown hair and a perverted smile leered at him in his mind's eye and Killian had to quell the urge to growl. If only he knew where that man was – but the truth was, he'd been invisible for nearly a decade and it was likely to stay that way.

But when he did – when the monster finally showed its face, the depraved sense of humour would be extinguished and Killian would not rest until the muddy brown eyes were devoid of life.

This he promised himself as the boiling water slid down his bare body and into the drain.

8888

"Have you gotten the email about the gala yet?" Phillip asked, looking up from the file in his hands. Killian shrugged and tossed the manila folder he had been perusing back on the table. He raised an incredulous eyebrow at their psychology expert.

"You're asking if I know about an opportunity to see the women we work with in dresses?"

Phillip nodded with false shame, "Of course, how could I expect any less?"

"Are you taking anyone?" Killian inquired with a smirk, leaning against the table and folding his arms across his chest. He fixed the young man with an attentive stare, watching as a blush crept up on his pale cheeks. Phillip kept his eyes glued to the paper he was 'reading,' and the other agent chuckled.

"Who is she?"

"No one," he replied instantly – too quickly.

"Come on!" the other pleaded, looking affirmatively wounded that his friend might keep such details hidden.

Phillip looked up and, with a crooked smile, said, "Do you remember the M.E that helped us with our last case?"

"Aurora?" Killian asked with a raised eyebrow, recalling in his mind a mental image of the petite woman with curly chestnut brown hair and long-lashed eyes. She was fairly pretty to say the least, but much too frilly for his tastes – though the fact she was employed in a morgue probably worked in her favour. That much meant two things: she was intelligent and she had a strong stomach.

So he could see the appeal, but his tastes differed greatly from the man opposite him. For example, where a mild-mannered girl might beguile Phillip, it was the defiant challenging women that caught Killian's attention.

"Yeah, what's wrong with her?" Phillip replied defensively, lowering the folder to look at Killian.

He shook his head, "Nothing, nothing – just surprised is all. I didn't see you talking to her after we got the information from the morgue."

The man's eyes flitted down bashfully, "I... um, well – I actually saw her after the case to thank her and… we kind of hit it off."

Killian grinned, "You sly dog."

"What about you? Are you taking anyone?" Phillip asked, genuinely curious.

He shook his head in return, "Nah, I'm a one-man wolf-pack."

"Seriously?"

"Yes, I did just use that quote."

"You're a child," Phillip laughed and shook his head, muttering good-naturedly about Killian's irredeemable immaturity when David opened the door and stayed in the archway as he spoke.

"Phillip – I think it's time we give the precinct a statement," he announced, motioning his head back towards the large room where people were starting to settle down into their desks as Sally walked around setting up an audience for the team.

David walked out then, leaving the door open as he walked to the front of the large room. Killian took a step back and motioned for Emma to go first with an elegant flourish of his arm. The blonde raised her eyebrows in silent question to which he smiled and winked.

"Ladies first."

She rolled her eyes but walked past him, following Henry and Phillip out of the room. They all walked to the front of the room, standing in a line as they waited for the room to fall silent. When there was no longer the sound of idle chit-chat, Sally nodded at David who looked at Phillip to begin.

Phillip took a deep breath before speaking in his melodic British voice, the same one that many a woman had swooned at in their time as teammates on the BAU. In fact, it was an incredibly amusing sight to behold – Phillip noting the reactions of other women, especially since the poor guy was so bloody modest that he never knew how to react to the attention. Killian often wished he had a camera to capture the moments.

"We're looking for a middle-aged male of Caucasian descent who has a history of animal abuse and assault though he may not have been charged so it's likely he was either a suspect or aided the investigation. He also suffered past abuse at the hands of a female which made him into a malignant misogynist and sexual sadist –"

"How do you know it's a male?" a dark-haired man at the back of the room asked, looking slightly offended by what he thought was a sexist assumption.

Emma chose to speak up, "Because the un-sub is subduing two adult individuals and getting away with it. Also because females don't typically utilise such messy methods of murder – these couples were beaten to death before they were put in their cars."

"Exactly, so this guy isn't afraid to get his hands dirty but he's also meticulously clean because there's been no DNA on the bodies or their vehicles," Henry added.

"These couples are being taken somewhere before, after or along route 55 but they're credit history states that there's no transactions in this area so look into establishments along that stretch that only take cash," Killian said, "We've also checked all the gas stations so you can rule them out."

"The un-sub thinks he's still in the clear so he won't be changing his style anytime soon so keep patrols on roads that are prone to accidents around this area," David explained, "Thank you."

With that, he walked unceremoniously back to the room. The other officers in the station, noticing that the exit of the Unit Chief meant the briefing had finished, went back to their work and some stood up to walk to the printers and each other's desks. Henry and Phillip trailed after David and Killian was about to as well when he noticed Emma looking down at her pocket. She pulled out her phone and he recognised the look of fleeting apprehension that crossed her face.

The blonde looked up just as he turned away and headed back to the room. However, as soon as he walked in and closed the door, he turned around to watch her through the glass wall, his view only barely impeded by the blinds covering the transparent barrier. She kept her expression indifferent, though he could see the anxiety laced underneath as she began to speak to the person on the phone. As the conversation continued, Emma tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ears, her stormy eyes flashing as her mouth set in an unfavourable grimace. Whatever the person on the end of the line was saying, it was pissing her off a lot.

She scanned the desks around her momentarily, checking to see that the police officers were still occupied by their work. Satisfied that the people around her weren't listening, she continued talking.

After a long moment, something obviously cut her off because she stopped speaking for a good minute and Killian wouldn't deny he was intensely curious as to what could possibly get her to shut her mouth for such an extended moment when she'd clearly been on the verge of yelling just seconds ago. Suddenly, Emma's mouth went slack as her eyes glazed over and she appeared to be lost in some memory.

Concern began to pool deep in the pits of Killian's stomach as he observed her open display of emotion. It was the first indicator that something was very wrong; Emma despised advertising her sentiments to the world, professionalism her life-long maxim. Her eyes focused again and, like she'd been cracked with a whip, her composure snapped back into place.

With one last word to the person on the phone, Emma hung up and began walking towards the door to their office. Killian watched as she opened the door and her blue-grey stare immediately met his, and it was as if she knew he'd been watching. A multitude of emotions passed through her eyes; apprehension, suspicion, indignation. And then her armour slipped into place and the deceptively tense moment ended.

Killian turned back to face the large majority of the room, the concern solidifying in his stomach as she walked to consult with David over what he presumed was the case, because if she wasn't letting Killian in, she wasn't letting anyone in.

He walked to sit down at the large circular table and began rubbing his temples, attempting to focus his thoughts on the case because knowing his partner was anxious about something sure was distracting. It was only when David approached that he opened his eyes to look at his superior.

"Anything new?" he asked David who shook his head.

"We're still trying to sort out how he's subduing these victims, where he's finding them and why he's attacking couples."

"Bloody hell," Killian replied, rubbing his forehead angrily. It was starting to attack his nerves, the fact they couldn't place these three simple facts. They were the best fucking BAU in America and they couldn't catch this depraved perp – more so than that, there would probably be a new pair of bodies in the morgue any minute now.

Henry moved towards them and sat down in the chair next to Killian, interlocking his fingers in his lap.

"What's going on?" he inquired innocently.

"Just trying to sort out this case," David answered before the other man could curse.

The youngest of the three men nodded in consideration, "Yeah – I just feel like we're missing something."

"You could say that again," Killian muttered irritably, glaring at the table. Just then, his stomach rumbled rather loudly and he realised he hadn't eaten breakfast that morning, substituting it with coffee instead. His hunger was probably a contributor to his narkiness and he turned to David who had raised an eyebrow at the very audible sound.

"Hungry?" the older man asked, obviously entertained.

"Very. Would you mind if I went out to get something?"

"Sure, but if you could bring some back for –"

"I've got it!" Henry's voice interrupted them, his eyes wide with some kind of epiphany. The young man ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head marginally and staring into space, "I don't know how I missed it – it was so obvious!"

"What?" Killian and David said in unison. Emma and Phillip had started walking over to their little trio as well, having heard and been alarmed by Henry's sudden outburst. The former put a hand on Henry's shoulder carefully, looking slightly concerned.

"You okay, kid?" she asked, watching as he stood up and shook off her hand to walk towards the boards displaying the information about the couples. He pulled off the sheets on the bottom with the M.E's reports and flicked through them as if checking for something. In only a moment he had gone through each one and slammed them on the table as the team looked on with alarm.

"All of the couples' last meals contained deep-fried foods that were almost exactly the same in fat content and three of the victims had eaten the exact same thing before they died."

There was silence as the team tried to piece together what he was saying. Henry sighed emphatically, motioning over his shoulder at the board.

"They're all stopping off at the same restaurant!"

There was a collective 'ah' as some of the puzzle pieces clicked into place. It still didn't explain how they were being subdued or why he was selecting couples but it gave them something to work with, and it was as if their engines had been kick-started. David was quickly instructing them.

"Killian, get Ruby to pull up all the restaurants along route 55, narrow it down to establishments that allow cash and are open late. Also make sure she checks the menus have all the foods that these couples last ate – go through the M.E's report for that. Phillip and Henry, adjust the profile to this information. Emma, work with Killian on isolating the restaurant. I'll talk to Sally to see if she has anything that might help in the way of past cases."

They nodded and Killian pulled out his phone to call the tech analyst.

"He who seeks the Queen of All Knowledge, speak and be recognized," Ruby answered in a voice that hinted at unmatched grandeur. He smiled.

"I need you to find me all the restaurants along route 55."

She scoffed, her fingers tapping away in the background, "Haven't we discussed this; challenges, Killy, challenges."

"Did you just call me Killy?"

"Do you have a problem with that?" she countered without missing a beat. He grinned and pursed his lips, swapping the phone to his other ear.

"That sounds like a dwarf's name. I am not a dwarf."

"Fine, you win for now. I have 132 eating establishments – give me some standards."

Killian closed his eyes, thinking about what the couples would have looked for in a stopping-point.

"Cash payment and late if not all-night hours," he said, opening his eyes and waiting for her to respond. There was some clicking on the other end of the phone and a brief moment of pause as she probably read through the results.

"I have 36 – give me something else to work with big boy."

"Okay, narrow it down to ones with generally good reviews."

"I have 17."

He walked over to where Henry had slammed down the medical examiner's reports and picked them up, flicking to the pages he needed.

"The menu must have fries, beef and cheese burgers, onion rings, diet coke, coffee and some kind of chicken and gravy item?"

"Six."

He cocked his head to the side in thought and looked at Emma who was leaning on the edge of the table across from him. She silently asked what was up and he mouthed 'six restaurants,' to request her input. She shrugged and reached over to pick up the sedan keys. She mouthed back, 'we can check them out.' In other words, she didn't have any other criteria to add.

He turned his attention back to the conversation with Ruby.

"Can you send me that list?"

"Already have."

"As per usual, your brilliance leaves me wordless. I'll talk to you later."

She chuckled, "By later, you mean the next time you need something. I feel like I should be incensed by your treatment but I find it oddly empowering." It was his turn to laugh and Emma gave him a look that screamed her impatience – lass wasn't known for her tolerance. He rolled his eyes and swivelled his chair to face away from the blonde.

"Bye Ruby."

"Bye Killy."

"Ruby –"

But she had already hung up and he shook his head hopelessly, albeit smiling at the woman's ability to annoy him and amuse him all with two words. He turned back in the chair to find his partner staring at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Can we go now?" she asked with a dramatic sigh. Killian smirked and stood up, tucking the phone in his pocket and walking past her to the door. He stopped in the archway to turn around and address the team, Emma already walking up to join him.

"We've got a couple of leads – Emma and I will get some samples of the food from each place, bring it back and see what we can find."

Henry frowned in confusion, as did Emma and the rest of the team.

"How will you be sure that the perp will try to spike your food – if that's even how he's doing it?" the youngest man asked. Killian checked the time and sure enough it was late afternoon and would soon be dark. He glanced at Emma and his grin spoke of mischief before he'd even opened his mouth to talk and the woman's shoulders dropped, her expression conveying that she already regretted the decision to accompany him.

He looked back up at Henry, "Because he'll think we're prospective victims."

8888

"I hate you," Emma muttered through clenched teeth, or rather through her broad and very much forced smile. She looked up at Killian beside her, his arm wrapped around her waist as the little golden bell above the door tinkled delicately to signal their entry into the last restaurant on their list.

He grinned down at her, genuinely enjoying their little scouting mission, and pinched her side affectionately so she jumped at the contact.

"Love you too, honey," he said, leaning closer to whisper it in her ear before giving her a chaste kiss on the cheek.

She held his eyes and while the rest of the world saw a doting wife, Killian could see that she was already concocting a revenge that would bring him to his knees, her head shaking from side to side marginally.

They walked arm in arm through the mostly empty establishment to the front counter. A soft-haired woman emerged from the kitchens with an obligatory grin.

"Hi, how may I help you?" she asked brightly.

Killian looked down at Emma, whose own arm was snaked around his side. It felt nice to have her so docile, compared to the only other time she had her arms wrapped around him – when they were sparring and she was about to throw him down.

"Table for two please."

The blonde nodded in agreement, turning her smile to the lady. He smirked and let his hand drift down her side, lower than she probably thought necessary. However, the moment he did, his foot was being silently crushed under the heel of her boot and it was surprisingly painful, making it doubly difficult to keep his expression neutral.

The woman behind the counter indicated to the open area behind them.

"Take a seat and we'll be with you in a minute," she said.

They turned around and Emma let her façade drop so she could glare at Killian. His smirk deepened as he ignored her blatant show of dislike, his hand resting on her lower back as he propelled her towards a booth in the back corner.

They sat down beside each other and the blonde was forced to reinforce her act.

"If your hand wanders past my waist again, I will personally see to it being removed. Got it?" Emma hissed through a happily unconcentrated veneer, looking out the window as though she were unaware of her 'husband' whose hand was still secured around her waist. Killian chuckled and looked around the diner – it was one of those retro-style ones, with diamond patterned tiles scaling half the wall, large red cushioned booths and neon lighting.

"Personally, I love my job," he retorted, studying the fingernails on his free hand as though they were the most fascinating things in the room. She narrowed her eyes at him and he met her cool stare with evident mirth.

"Love, you might want to drop the sour face – our waiter is approaching," he said, nodding in the direction of the man coming towards their table. He held two red, leather-bound menus, his black tousled hair tucked behind his ears. The waiter smiled at them, a genuine smile too, and put the two lists on the table in front of them.

"Bit late for a snack, don't you think?" he asked with a raised eyebrow, glancing between Killian and Emma.

His partner grinned winningly, "Eugene likes to travel late."

Eugene?

Are you fucking kidding me?

He saw as she glimpsed at his expression with an air of satisfaction, but two could play that game.

"Well, Beatrice, it's not my fault – I just don't like driving with your constant commentary to keep me company."

Emma's head snapped towards him, her eyes widening fractionally as if to ask: you want to play this game?

He smiled and cocked his head to the side, tapping her on the nose in what would be seen by others as an affectionate gesture. But for Emma? She hated it and he could see the restraint it required not to grab his hand and twist it into an unnatural shape. The waiter frowned, a smile tugging at his lips as he observed the couple in front of him.

"Oh, you're just whinging because you're still snippy that I get a bigger pay-check than you," she complained, eyeing the waiter with a sympathetic look as though her partner were the worst person to live with – which he wasn't, not that she had ever actually stayed with him.

Killian raised his eyebrows, "That may be true but I'm still more important in my job."

She kicked him under the table and he grunted briefly under his breath at the pain that blossomed in his shin. Her lips formed a thin smile and she turned to the waiter and spoke conspiratorially, "He's just saying that because he's been having… ahem… intimate problems."

She did not.

Oh, but she did.

His jaw almost dropped at the implication of her words and the waiter blushed a deep shade of red, scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably. Clearly satisfied, Emma picked up the menu and began to read through it as Killian shook his head, trying to hide a smirk because she had just gone there. And he would not forget it.

"You two been married long?" the waiter asked, clearly trying to remedy the awkwardness that was almost palpable in the air. Killian tore his gaze away from the blonde, whose eyes were focused intently on the list of meals in her hands.

"A little while," he said, bringing his hand up and wiggling the fingers to show off the gold band that rested on his ring finger. His tone held finality and, without explicitly saying it, commanded the young man to give them privacy. He shuffled away to wait at the counter, watching the window with a bored expression on his face. As soon as he was out of earshot, Killian fixed his icy blue eyes on Emma who continued with her apparent perusal of the menu, too preoccupied to notice his stare.

"Eugene? Really?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and lifting his own menu.

She levelled him with an equally incredulous gaze, "Beatrice? Really?"

"You started it."

"I wasn't the one who tried to get some grab-ass."

"You inferred impotency. That's crossing the line, love."

"Not if it's true," she retorted with an elegantly raised eyebrow.

"I could probably prove to you that it's not true, but I doubt you'd put your money where your mouth is," he retorted, tilting his head closer to hers so he could whisper the words in her ear. She didn't reply, her stony front impassive and unbreakable even as he threw the suggestive comment at her.

He turned back to his menu, finding a suitable meal and laying down the red document. He waited for her to do the same and when she did, she slowly lifted her eyes to his.

"So, tell me – have you seen anyone of interest so far?" he asked, returning their conversation to work-related subjects. She folded her arms and leaned back in the soft booth, unwittingly leaning in to him since his arm had made its way back around her waist.

She shook her head minutely, "Nope – but then, our guy isn't going to show the typical signs. He's become adept at hiding it so even I might have trouble spotting him."

Killian nodded appreciatively and the waiter, having seen them conversing civilly again, started walking towards them. He pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. The two agents gave him their orders and he smiled, telling them that it wouldn't be too long before bustling away to help prepare their meal. Emma watched him go and turned back to her partner.

"Just saying, but if we were ever married I would definitely have the bigger pay-check."

Killian smiled, "You think about marrying me often, Swan?"

She sneered at him and he laughed, though he could swear he saw a small smile tug at the corners of her lips for a fleeting moment before she composed herself. Because to convey emotion around this Irish bastard was an unforgivable sin and God forbid they actually enjoy each other's company.

"I am kind of hungry, you know," she commented eventually, a statement that was swiftly punctuated by the sound of her stomach growling angrily. They had been to five other restaurants but they were yet to eat – just in case they happened to sample food that was tainted by their killer.

They had spent the evening ordering meals and then asking to take them to-go under some bogus urgent pretence. In each restaurant they made sure to make it very obvious that they were "married" and on a road trip so they would fit the killers M.O. They were taking the food back to be sampled, simultaneously attempting to work out the method of subdual and common link between the couples.

Phillip had initially expressed concern when Killian had relayed the idea, saying something along the lines of 'putting themselves in the line of fire' and 'reckless behaviour.' Even David had scoffed at the notion, reminding their psychology expert that for one, Emma and Killian were two fully capable agents without handguns; and secondly that Emma and Killian would have their handguns. So, it was a very unlikely chance that the killer would get the drop on the both of them.

Nevertheless, the fact remained: they hadn't eaten in a very long time and even Killian had to admit his stomach was beginning to hurt with the lack of actual contents.

"We should pick something up on the way back to the office – in the city so we don't accidentally stumble onto our killer's nest," he said, his nose itching as he smelt their food being prepared. It was a slow torture to watch as genuinely nice looking meals came out and were placed in front of them, unable to touch them without risking the ingestion of some unknown drug.

"Agreed," Emma replied.

He looked at her with what could only be described as astonishment and she shrugged, "What?"

"Are you feeling well?"

She shook her head as he placed a wary hand to her forehead, "What are you talking about?"

"You just agreed with me, Swan. You never agree with me." Her expression deadpanned as his lit up with amusement. She smacked him over the back of the head, inadvertently inching his face just a little closer to hers. She narrowed her eyes as his twinkled with delight and he glanced down at her lips briefly.

"You know, love, the waiter mightn't be convinced yet that we're a married couple? Best to make sure he well and truly knows," Killian said, leaning closer. The blonde automatically tilted herself back, avoiding him and putting a hand on his chest to halt him.

Killian pouted and she pointed to where the waiter was now approaching with food. He sighed emphatically, straightening into a better position to 'eat' their food. The man placed down the ceramic plates with a nod and a smile before leaving them to their own devices. The smell of their freshly cooked meal wafted from the plates in tufts of steam.

Killian and Emma shared a pained look at the tantalising food that they were not allowed to eat.

She sighed, "This kind of sucks."

He nodded in agreement before pretending that his phone had started ringing, pulling it out and sliding out of the booth before answering. His eyes widened in horror and Emma responded accordingly, gesticulating as if she were curious as to the subject matter. He shushed her and continued his one-sided conversation. If you asked him, he'd missed his calling as an actor.

He put down the phone and looked back at Emma, "We have to go. Mom's had a stroke."

Emma gasped and stood up, sliding out of the booth and walking past Killian to signal the waiter. He jogged over when he noticed the anxious expression on both individual's faces and quickly questioned what was wrong.

"Can we get this to go? My husband's mother's had a stroke and we need to get going – now," she explained, pointing behind her to Killian.

The waiter's eyes glanced between them sporadically, his lip quivering for a second as panic flickered in his eyes.

"Oh, o-okay. Sure – I'll just get you guys some boxes to take it away," he said and Killian watched in surprise as Emma's hand twitched towards her lower back where her gun was carefully stored. He kept his eyes on her as the harried waiter retreated into the kitchen to find something for their meal. She stayed facing away and Killian cleared his throat to get her attention.

She whipped around, "He's panicking. Why would a waiter panic if he saw two people wanting to leave especially if they had a viable excuse?"

He frowned and shook his head, shrugging, "I don't know – maybe he's worried for my 'mom?'"

"No. There's a very big difference between panic and worry – one is born from human compassion, the other is generally a preservation instinct reaction."

"Okay," Killian replied slowly, watching as her eyes sparked with something strange. She sighed, massaging the side of her head and dropping her hand.

"I don't know… I'm not convinced."

He studied her carefully; ice meeting the storm as she subconsciously tested his ability to trust her instincts.

"What do you want to do?"

"We can't do anything without proof. We need to get this stuff back to the precinct ASAP."

"Okay."

The male waiter exited the kitchen, two white plastic boxes balanced on his hands as he walked briskly towards them. Emma schooled her features to convey gratefulness but Killian could see the sharp edge to her smile. For all her wit and humour, the blonde was a predator and her prey was criminals. And right now, she had her sights locked onto the dark-haired male spooning their meal into the boxes.

"Thank you so much, I'm really sorry we have to leave so soon," she gushed.

The man shrugged and shook his head bashfully, "It's okay. Just, um – make sure your mom is okay."

"No really," Emma said, placing a hand on his forearm and grasping it firmly, "thank you for being so understanding. I mean, you prepared this meal for us and I feel awful that you don't even get feedback." She looked like a typically overwhelmed woman, caught up in her own dramatic world to the point of exaggerating the small things. He recoiled from her grip, a disgusted turn of his lip appearing and disappearing like a monster momentarily raising its hackles.

His eyes were downcast, "I didn't actually prepare the meal, I just served it."

Emma's hand twitched and he reckoned it was an automatic response to lies. This guy had no idea what he'd gotten himself into.

"We can stay for a minute to try the food can't we?" she asked, scratching her head and turning to Killian who had been observing the exchange with attentive eyes. He put on that he was at war with himself, letting his face convey hesitancy. He bit his lip and sighed in defeat.

"Okay, I guess it wouldn't hurt to stay for a minute. It's not like getting up there five minutes earlier is going to change much right?"

Emma nodded fervently and gave the waiter a brilliant smile, settling back down into the booth on the opposite side to where she had been before and glancing up at Killian who mirrored her movements. But the waiter didn't move, his eyes glued to the blonde for a certifiable moment. Something about the restaurant suddenly felt tense and Killian looked to see if his partner felt the change in atmosphere too.

He should have seen it coming and he later cursed himself for not noticing. The waiters arm had flicked behind and back towards them in one fluid movement, pulling out a 9mm double action stainless revolver and pressing it to Emma's head. How he'd managed to hide it in there without the two agents noticing was a wonder and Killian scolded himself for the blatant idiocy. Nevertheless, his attention was needed on far more important situations at that moment.

For example, the man – who he was now 99% sure was either their un-sub or just your everyday psychopath – holding a gun to his partner's head.

Emma's eyes met Killian's and he wasn't surprised to see no trace of fear; after all, this wasn't exactly the first time they'd had firearms pressed to various body parts. If that scared them, they'd have been forced to buy several pairs of undergarments a day in some cases.

The waiter's incensed glare landed on Emma as he growled, "Why do you have a gun?"

"What?" she answered with faux innocence.

"Don't lie to me, bitch. I saw it when you turned back to your husband – if he even is your husband."

Well, shit. Killian remembered her scratching her head as she turned to him and realised that her jacket would have ridden up with the movement, giving the waiter a fleeting glance at the outline of a small revolver tucked beneath her shirt there. Such a silly thing was now unlacing the bonds holding this situation together, like a surfactant in water.

Emma looked at Killian again and in that moment they had a decision; they could continue trying to maintain the façade or reveal their true identities. He mentally tallied their chances with each option in a split second.

This guy hated women so no matter what, the blonde was caught in his crosshairs. They still didn't understand his hatred for men but it had something to do with husbands specifically. His current temperament meant he was on-edge, though it didn't detract from the downright arrogance he felt with a weapon in his hands. If he believed they were trying to fool him, it would only anger him.

Truth it was.

When Killian nodded, Emma got the wordless message.

"You're right. He's not my husband – we work in a behavioural analysis unit."

The man's eyes widened in shock momentarily and he looked between the two agents, "Why are you here? How did you… why are you here?" He sniffed angrily, pushing the gun against Emma's temple. She winced at the bruise that was sure to blossom there and Killian's fingers itched ever-so-slightly towards his own gun.

"We've been following your case," she replied smoothly, not even flinching when he put his other hand on her shoulder and yanked her closer to him. He turned to Killian, gun still on Emma as he demanded affirmation.

"Is that true?"

He nodded, "We've been collecting samples of food to determine which restaurant it was and how you were doing it. Our colleagues know we're here."

There was a pause where he seemed to consider his own options.

"Well at least I'll have a head start," he said, pulling back the safety on the gun with a loud click. But Emma was quicker than that, shoving his hand and the gun away from her so that when the bang went off, the bullet lodged into the table. Killian stood up, pulling his own firearm out from where it had been tucked into the back of his pants and aiming at the man.

The waiter stepped back before Emma could apprehend him, pulling the gun on her and flicking between the both of them. The blonde slid slowly out of the counter to stand beside Killian and they both stared the un-sub down. His expression was furious and, surprisingly, his hands were not trembling as most un-subs' did.

"Stay back or I'll shoot," he warned, walking backwards towards the kitchen doors.

"You can still come out of this alive, you know. If you put the gun down," Emma said calmly, appealing to his survival instincts.

He shook his head and barked out a maniacal laugh, "Yeah right. You're lying – it's what you whores and bitches do."

Killian shifted ever so slightly on the spot, moving so his body was primarily in front of hers since she didn't yet have her weapon drawn. But any sudden movements and the guy might pull his trigger, and they had elected not to wear bullet-proof vests this evening because it was only supposed to be gathering evidence.

So much for that.

The man narrowed his eyes between the two of them and then: BANG!

"Sonuvabitch," he heard Emma mutter harshly behind him. It took him less than a moment to realise the waiter had pulled the trigger and was quickly backing away towards the kitchen with his gun still raised. But as Emma's hisses ran through his head, Killian let the man move through the door and waited until he was out of sight to lower his gun, quickly turning to his partner. She held her side and blood seeped through a wound that lay there.

The sound of feet scuffling on tiles made Killian turn back to where the un-sub was probably sprinting through the kitchens. He returned his attention to Emma, who was grimacing in pain but found it within herself to fix him with a stern stare. She didn't even need to speak, simply nodding after the un-sub and pulling out her phone with her good hand. He quickly directed her to a seat and, after one last meaningful look, began sprinting behind the counter.

There was a clatter of metal as pots and pans fell and a woman's cry of protest. As he burst into the kitchens, he saw that the woman who had greeted them was on the floor, having been tossed aside by the waiter like a chess piece. There was a door at the end of the small room and it hung open, prompting Killian to follow the same path.

The door from the restaurant led into a dark alley that, on its right, led to the lamp-lit street or, on its left, a decrepit looking concrete yard. Loud footfalls came from his left so Killian sprinted headlong towards the darker end of the alley, where he reached a small concrete car-park that was apparently the backlot of numerous brick veneer buildings. A dark silhouette was attempting to jump a wire fence to reach the alley between two of the brick buildings.

Never stopping his momentum, Killian ran at the fence where the man had just swung his leg over the other side. As he hit the wiry surface, it shook violently and there was a grunt as the man fell onto the hard concrete ground on the other side.

Before he could fully recover, Killian scaled the fence and landed on the other side.

The man was just standing up, his gun on the ground beside him where he'd dropped it as he fell. He immediately lunged at Killian and it was like going through the motions with Emma in the gym.

Use opposition's momentum to gain advantage.

Push advantage and discombobulate.

Strike thrice for good measure in nerve-sensitive zones.

When he was on the ground, groaning and sputtering, Killian simply stepped over him and dragged him to a standing position. He pushed him against the brick wall roughly, extracting his handcuffs and restraining the man in one swift motion.

The guy pushed back against Killian and he raised his eyebrows dubiously.

"You're cuffed and you just shot my partner after massacring four couples and you're going to challenge me right now?" he said, gripping him by the scruff of his neck and directing him towards the lamp-lit street. He struggled feebly against the cuffs, every so often attempting to throw Killian off.

"You have no proof," the man spat.

"Except, perhaps, the lovely food you provided me and my wife with. Tell me, did you spike it?"

It was with sudden realisation that the man growled and bucked backwards again. Killian ignored this and, holding onto him, continued directing him out of the alley. He would have to walk the perimeter to reach the Diner's entrance again, since getting the guy over a fence with his hands restrained was impossible.

They were just about to turn right on the corner leading to the street that the diner was on, the flashing lights telling Killian that back-up had arrived. The man in his grip noticed this too and it was as though his energy sky-rocketed. With increased fervour, he rocked against the agent's grip and Killian actually found himself struggling to hold the man.

A misplaced kick to the abdomen and Killian's grip faltered, giving the man the split-second opportunity he needed to run. He cursed violently under his breath, giving chase without a second thought.

The following seconds seemed to occur in slow motion before his eyes.

The man, his hands still cuffed securely behind his back, ran in the opposite direction to the flashing lights. This direction just so happened to cross a road. He had just reached the middle of the street when there was the sound of a car honking its horn.

Killian stopped in his tracks, looking around to find the source of the sound.

The man kept running, ignorant of the warning.

And then, before the un-sub could even react, a truck was trying to break. But it wasn't fast enough, the metal grates slamming into his body and throwing it down the road like a rag doll.

It was poetic justice, really.

Sorry for not giving you Emma's reaction to Killian in the shower but I thought their 'married' escapade made up for it. Oh, and I have major feels planned for next chapter.

Review?