Sorry for the long wait! I'm in an especially good mood after the latest episode so I'm posting this early! This one's a big chapter by the way so I had to postpone the Gala to next chapter but I 110% promise it is definitely in the next chapter. This one just sort of ran away from me. As always, prayers to the lovely Nicole for beta-ing (she is a goddess of reviewing my work for me).
Enjoy!
Emma opened the door to her apartment sluggishly, exhausted in spite of the face that she'd spent the day entirely consumed in paperwork. Ruby was still trying to sort through the relentless piles of cases and until they were deployed to another state, the paper-trays were calling. She let the door shut on its own and leaned against it with a loud sigh, hanging her keys on the little hook beside the door and shuffling down the hall to her kitchen.
She felt… flat. Like a bulldozer had rolled over her… more than once.
And it was more than just the day of staring at a computer screen and bantering with Killian that was the cause.
"I'd like to know what happened at the Reed Ranch because I can't think of a situation where Henry could possibly have been abducted without some foolishness on your part," Regina's cold voice echoed in her head, hitting her in the chest with a cold, inaudible thud. Henry had come in halfway through the day, as expected, ignoring the orders of both David and Regina. His face still held a littering of bruises and there was a heaviness to his actions, like every movement tired him, but he'd come in nonetheless.
Emma felt the guilt hit her like a ton of bricks when she'd seen him, only piling onto Regina's comments.
And despite the kid's best efforts to uphold the witty back-and-forth, she couldn't meet his eyes. Henry was in surprisingly good spirits actually, you wouldn't think he'd been the punching bag of a psychotic killer just the other day. He'd even been able to crack a joke, making a comment to Phillip and Killian about getting additional attention from women because of the 'masculine' bruises. The three men had a good laugh at that, with Killian clapping Henry on the back and saying something about being a 'proud teacher.'
Either way, she still felt guilty.
Emma had just entered the kitchen when the phone rang and she groaned, leaning over the counter to grab it and pulling it up to her ear.
"Hello?"
"Emma, it's Graham," her old teammate answered, his gruff accented voice tinted by something frenzied. She was abruptly reminded of her situation and the threat looming over her head as she pulled the phone closer to her ear.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
How could you forget? A part of her demanded, how could you possibly have forgotten?
Another part of her reminded the admonishing voice that Henry's predicament had been a greater priority, pushing away the impending problem to deal with the first and most imminent issue of their latest case. Emma tried to quieten her thoughts as she straightened up.
"What's wrong?" she asked, trying in vain to keep the worry out of her voice.
"I'm on my way to Quantico."
"What? Why?" Emma demanded.
She heard his pause before, "They found Miranda's body. It was floating in the Seine… they reckon she died about two weeks ago." Emma shuddered but she clutched the phone tighter, something in her gut telling her that he wasn't finished. She started pacing the length of her kitchen.
"We predicted that – so what's the problem?"
It sounded blunt. It was blunt, but now was not the time for pleasantries and skirting the facts.
"Gus was found this morning – I've been trying to call you all day. He was killed two days ago and… I think August and I might be next," he said and she heard him grunt as if shifting something onto his shoulder – probably a bag. Emma didn't reply for a second, her mind buzzing and thoughts racing as she remembered the dark haired man who had run the technical aspect of the investigation. Vague memories swirled in her head of him, being instructed how to place the listening device, how to hide wires, how to remove it quickly and inconspicuously if necessary.
She blinked and forced herself to tune back into the present, stuttering for a second before she verbalized the sentence circling her mind, "He could be coming for me."
Graham was silent but she knew he wouldn't hold in whatever he wanted to say – it wasn't how they worked. And anyway, she could take it.
Her lie detector shrilled at the internal comment, unwittingly making her feel suddenly exposed.
"Emma, you and I both know he's not coming for you yet."
Yet.
Emma swallowed and changed the ear she was holding the receiver to, "When will you get here?"
"Tomorrow."
"I'll pick you up from the airport. What flight are you on?"
"I'm coming in at 7:30."
"I'll see you then."
She hung up after that, her breaths as thin as tissue paper.
8888
Emma leaned back in the uncomfortable chair, trying to find a position that didn't feel like the arms of the seat were digging into her muscles like bones trying to re-attach themselves. She sighed and looked up at the large screen a short distance from her, studying the flights and the times and groaning when she saw that his flight wasn't getting in for another half an hour. The hour delay was irritating enough in itself simply because Emma wasn't renowned for her patience, but combined with her dislike for airports, the blonde was already drafting up a slur of things to hiss at Graham when he arrived.
She looked at her watch again, letting her head fall back against the seat and closing her eyes as she thought about the day that had passed at work. It had actually been fairly uneventful, other than the tense moment when she'd been forced to give Regina her case report. Emma ground her teeth together at the thought of the brunette Section Chief and her condescending leer.
Emma couldn't pinpoint the exact moment when she'd begun to resent the woman, but she knew it was not soon after their introduction. In fact, it often surprised her that Regina hadn't simply fired her long ago.
But then, she guessed that there weren't many people in Quantico who had the skillset and time available that Emma had. No family and limited friends certainly made her appealing as an employee, especially in a profession that required frequent travel.
Perhaps the foster system had given her something in life.
Regina had levelled Emma with a disdainful look as she set the manila folder on her desk, tapping it once and meeting her eyes to say, "Let me know if you need anything else." The Section Chief had said nothing else, much to her surprise, simply nodding and pulling the document towards her and placing it on the hefty pile of other papers to peruse. Emma wondered if the woman's lack of response had anything to do with whatever Killian had said to her the day prior.
She'd seen him through the open door, watching curiously as he stepped closer to the desk to mutter something before spinning on his heel and promptly leaving the office.
As her thoughts drifted to her partner, Emma felt her chest seize up.
She knew now that completely cutting him off would get her nowhere and likely compromise their team, Henry's battered face flashing behind her lids like a mocking aide-mémoire of that point. The kid was in higher spirits, but he still winced at loud noises and his eyes occasionally took on a far-off look. The naivety was definitely less prominent in him now.
But, somehow, it was still there.
The young agent's presence was a constant reminder throughout the day that she couldn't throw her defences up so quickly or so harshly, not when it would only encourage her teammates to pursue the root of the problem – namely, Killian. She was trying to treat him as normally as possible, but she could tell he knew something was up from the moment she entered the office that day, his ice blue eyes scrutinizing her with the precision of an x-ray.
She wasn't the only one in the team who knew simple deduction.
But he had yet to say anything, and for that Emma was grateful. Loathe as she was to admit it, she hated distancing herself from him – their partnership far deeper than simple working colleagues. But that was another issue altogether, and one she wasn't yet willing to touch with a five-foot pole.
"You're lucky we've known each other so long or else I'd be offended by your lack of enthusiasm at seeing me," a familiar voice said somewhere directly in front of her.
Emma opened one eye, not really sure when she'd closed them, and tried to restrain a smirk as she took in the sight of Graham Humbert. He hadn't changed a bit.
He still sported dress shirts with vests, he still refused to shave his stubble and tame his unruly curls, he still looked like a golden skinned god – especially with the bright lights of the airport beaming down on him like the heavens themselves had opened up and were applauding his genetic makeup. He had a brown carry-on bag strung over his shoulder, his hands on his hips as he looked down at her with a small smirk.
Emma pushed herself up to stand in front of him and was unable to hold back the smile that erupted on her face as she wrapped her arms around him in a hug.
He returned the gesture and, when they pulled away, raised an eyebrow.
"Dishing out hugs now, Swan? You're getting soft," he commented wryly as she started leading him towards the exit.
"Shut up, Humbert – I could always break your hand if you need proof I'm still immune to bullshit," she retorted as they walked through the crowded airport side-by-side. He chuckled beside her and Emma unwillingly found nostalgia creep up on her, her mind automatically taken back to the days before France, when they were still doing the groundwork, when their only worries were whether or not they would make deadlines.
"So," he started, "How's life over here? Boring, half-boring, completely and utterly boring?"
Emma rolled her eyes, "Just because I didn't want to stay in France with Interpol, doesn't mean I'm not fulfilled."
"Seriously? You don't miss the stake-outs and big pay-offs?" he asked light-heartedly, giving her an incredulous look. She shrugged and made her way around a large clump of people, turning back to look at him as she gave her reply.
"Not really, I mean, taking your money was pretty fun," she said, smirking as she said the last part and he raised his eyebrows.
"I maintain that you cheated in those card games," he replied with an admonishing shake of his head.
"But I like it here," she finished, ignoring his comment and leading him out of the airport towards the car park, the late night air fairly brisk as a breeze picked up. He nodded in understanding as they reached her car and got in. And, as the silence encroached on the small space in the car's interior, Emma felt the mirth drain from the air. It wasn't until they'd reached the highway that she decided to speak, her voice considerably less jovial.
"So, what do we know so far?"
He sighed heavily, rubbing his forehead, "We don't think he's in the Ukraine anymore but we're waiting for confirmation. Jefferson has been relocated to a safe house in Japan and August is going to stay with his cousins in Montreal –"
"Wait, if everyone else is going underground, why aren't you?" Emma demanded, looking briefly at the man beside her but keeping her gaze primarily locked onto the road stretched out in front of her.
"August isn't actually being protected by the agency; he's doing it of his own volition. Hierarchy and all that shit means only Jefferson's getting the golden cage," Graham responded bitterly, "It doesn't matter though – even if I was offered a hut in Haiti, I'd still be here. I reckon we're better off sticking together."
"Of fucking course they've decided Jefferson's the only one worth saving," Emma said, shaking her head and biting her lip indignantly, "Did you ask August to come and 'stick together?'"
Graham gave her a look and she shook her head admonishingly, "Don't get me wrong, he's my friend – but he's a freaking coward sometimes, Humbert."
"He was never good at fighting, Emma – his specialty was in the bureaucratic aspects. What could he really be expected to do to help us?" Graham said, his tone imploring as he defended August's case. She tapped her thumbs against the wheel as she deliberated his point before exhaling heavily.
"Whatever. How did Miranda and Gus die?" she asked stoically, in spite of the flips her stomach was doing as she pictured the faces of the two people now lying somewhere on a sterile silver platter waiting to be dissected and buried. She gripped the wheel tighter to keep a hold of herself and almost didn't notice Graham's pause.
"Uh, well Miranda was strangled and… Gus was stabbed – he obviously doesn't want anyone to connect the dots."
"Except us," Emma murmured.
"Except us," Graham confirmed morbidly.
There was silence again until Emma realized she needed to know where she was driving.
"Where are you staying?" she asked because there was no way in hell he would have assumed staying at her apartment was an option.
"The Ramada Triangle," he replied and Emma conjured an image of the hotel in her mind as she switched lanes. They didn't speak again as she drove through the evening light and eventually reached his hotel. She had just parked the car on the side of the road when she felt her phone buzzing in her pocket and pulled it out.
It was a message from David:
New case – meet at the office.
Graham watched her quietly as she read the message and frowned, raising her eyes up to give him an apologetic look.
"New case?" he asked with a half-hearted smirk.
Emma nodded, tucking the phone back in her pocket.
"This late?" he inquired with a half-hearted smirk, the dark sky glinting outside as though to remind them both of the night hour. She smiled apologetically.
"Sorry – I have to go. I'll call you when I'm back in town; hopefully it won't be a big case," she said with a sigh, leaning back in her seat as Graham unbuckled his seat belt and opened the door. He stepped out and leaned on the open car door.
"It's fine – I'll do some groundwork while you're gone. When you get back, we can get started," he said with an understanding smile that Emma returned with ease.
"Thanks Graham," she replied before he closed the door and turned around to walk towards the lobby. Biting down on her lip, she pressed down on the button that opened the window on his side. At the sound, Graham turned around, shooting her a confused look.
Emma paused for a moment longer before giving him a tight smile, "Take care of yourself."
Graham smiled and nodded, saluting her and turning around again. She waited until he'd entered the front doors to the lobby before driving off, feeling like a real soccer mom at the protective tendency. Emma shook her head, trying and failing to shrug off the strange feeling of worry that had settled low in her stomach. Something in her gut told her having Graham here was wrong – but there was no way he would have listened to her. Not after Miranda and Gus.
He can take care of himself; Emma reminded herself, gripping the wheel tightly as she pulled onto the highway and began driving back to the office, careful to take a different exit.
8888
"Officer Tate," Ruby said, dropping a pile of folders onto the round table once everyone was settled, "was found yesterday with his neck broken on a sidewalk bench near Curtis Park."
The brunette moved to the television screen, pressing a multitude of buttons in an attempt to connect it to the computer sitting on the same round table behind her. The files were strewn haphazardly across the small table and Emma frowned as she started skipping through the pages in her hands, frustration marring her face as she tried to find something that wasn't blacked out by permanent marker - redacted. She opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by David who turned in the seat beside her to address the entire team picking at the documents in front of them.
"Okay, so I'm sure you're all asking yourselves the same question right now," he said, "It's only one murder, why can't the local P.D handle this themselves?" David looked around at all of them as though looking for affirmation and Emma saw Henry's slim shoulders lift in a shrug on her other side.
"Well," the Unit Chief began, "Officer Tate worked for the CIA and was involved in an undercover drug smuggling operation at the time of his death. They believe he was outed by a mole in the agency and have asked us to source out that individual. Ruby will be working in their office closer to town to take a look at their archives in person since sending them here could compromise their integrity."
Emma heard Ruby mutter, "They wouldn't have to send them for me to take a look at them." The blonde chuckled under her breath, catching the brunette's eye as she looked over her shoulder briefly and shaking her head ever-so-slightly. Her attention was turned back to David when his voice sounded in the room.
"Got it, Ruby?" he inquired, referring to the technological hiccup she'd just remedied with the screen. She nodded and stepped back and pressed a button on the remote in her ring-ornamented fingers, a grisly image of the victim in question appearing on screen.
"So, local rangers found him in the morning when they were patrolling – he'd been dead for eight hours."
"What exact time did they find him?" Henry asked, his fingertips pressed together as he stared down at the table. Emma called it his 'sponge-pose,' because it was the shape he took whenever he was absorbing the information of an important case.
"Seven A-M, local reporters have been told it was a suicide to keep the case under the radar. If the public finds out there's a mole in one of the most important defence organizations in the country, there'll be chaos – and not the good kind," Ruby said, punctuating her last word by pressing the remote. Another photo came up, this time a portrait of the victim in his Bureau uniform. "According to his journal, he'd been working the case for twelve months and was about to bring it down with a big bust – hence the belief that there's a mole," she said.
"Any preliminary evidence?" Killian asked from across the table, looking up from his own folder with a deep frown. She had a feeling the document he was trying to peruse was also redacted and he scratched the spot just above his ear in evident frustration.
"The killer wore gloves and, since he had his neck broken at a park bench there's no real trace evidence that could be picked up. Whoever did this was smart and I'd wager it wasn't the work of the organization he was investigating. This was professional," she said, fiddling with the slim remote in her hands and giving Emma's partner a serious look.
"So a hit man hired by the king pin's?" Phillip suggested.
Ruby shook her head, "No, my guess is the mole." Killian sighed and looked down, eyes skimming over the page in his hand as the tech analyst moved to the next image. It was of a tall, stocky man with a balding head and hard eyes – he was wearing a crisp black suit and appeared to be walking towards a car.
"This is the man who runs the drug trade he was working in, George King. According to Tate's evidence journal, he's the man responsible for the entire operation. He only met with Tate once but I did some digging and I found out where his right hand man lives."
David nodded, silently taking in her words and leaning back in his leather chair, hands folded neatly on the table. He chewed the inside of his lip as the rest of the team continued to read their respective files until eventually he shifted forward, letting his elbows rest on the edge of the great, round mahogany table.
"Okay," he started, garnering their attention and turning to face Phillip first, "Phillip, I want you to go and speak to the M.E. Find out if there's anything we can use to profile the mole – I know it's late but she's expecting one of us to come over." Emma was surprised to see the aforementioned British agent's face lift in barely subdued delight at the order, hastily grabbing a set of keys off the table and his jacket. She looked to Killian who was eyeing the man knowingly, a smirk plastered across his face.
"I'll get on that," Phillip said, blushing when he noticed Killian's expression before spinning on his heel and quickly exiting. They all stared after him for a short moment, strange glances exchanged across the table as they waited for David to continue. Emma kept her eye on her partner, making a mental note to ask him about what had just happened.
Their Unit Chief smiled and shook his head, getting back to business quickly, "Ruby, you start heading over to the CIA headquarters – you'll be working with their tech guy, Mr Whale." The brunette groaned petulantly but turned the screen off anyway, packing away her things as the blonde man fixed his eyes on Emma, "You and Killian are going to check out George's right hand man, Ruby will send you the address – and please, for the love of all that is holy, don't get into a confrontation. I do not have the patience to fill out any more goddamned paperwork regarding your inability to follow protocol." Any other person might have misconstrued his words as harsh, the sternness of his tone nearly convincing. But, even if they didn't know the man, the way his lips tilted up faintly destroyed the purpose of the threat.
He sighed and looked to the pile of folders on the table, "I'm going to speak to some of his co-workers on the operation and Henry; I want you to start on an initial profile."
They all nodded and Emma stood up, snatching the keys off the table before Killian could grab them and shooting him a smug look as she walked past him to the door. He groaned and looked pleadingly at the two men still at the table, both of whom shrugged and ignored him.
"You always drive," he said irritably, shuffling after her as they exited the office.
Emma turned to him, incredulity tinting her features, "Excuse me?"
"You heard me," he said, nodding at her, "You always drive."
She raised her eyebrows at his haughty tone, "That's because I want to live to see my thirtieth birthday."
"Children, please," Ruby's voice tutted as she made her way around them, heels clicking long the floor as she walked down the stairs, laptop bag bumping against her hip with every step. Emma and Killian watched her stride towards the glass doors, pushing them open and making her way towards the elevators. Emma turned to her partner as they walked slowly in the same direction of the brunette and narrowed her eyes indignantly. He shook his head, a smirk tugging at his lips, and they moved towards the elevators.
Ruby had just gotten in one and they had to wait for another. As they did, Emma was reminded of her previous mental note and turned to him.
"Why did Phillip look positively thrilled to be going to the morgue?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.
Killian's eyes were still on the elevator buttons and she saw as he smiled, tucking his hands in his pockets.
"Not the morgue, darling, the M.E," he responded amusedly.
The elevator light flashed and they walked towards the opening metal doors as she shot him a puzzled look.
"The M.E?"
"Our dear Phillip has a crush on the lass," he said as they leaned against the glassed walls that made up the elevator. The doors closed and Emma raised her eyebrows in surprise, leaning over to press the button for the garage.
"Aurora?"
Killian nodded, folding his arms across his chest, and she shrugged indifferently after a long moment, "I guess that makes sense. He was giving her the googly eyes when we went to get the rundown for that case with 'the Human Garrotte.'" The elevator doors opened and they walked out into the neon-lit underground parking lot. Emma pressed down on the button as they neared the car, pausing so she could watch for which one's lights would flash. Just as she held the device out in front of her though, Killian's hand snaked out and plucked it from her hand, unlocking the car himself and making a beeline for the one that had beeped.
She hurried after him, a look of mixed shock and irritation on her face, "Give me the keys."
He smirked over his shoulder at her and moved to the driver's side. She followed him.
"No," Killian replied simply.
She narrowed her eyes at him, and swiped her hand out to grab them. Her hand flew through the air as he pulled them out of reach and she huffed, feeling a little immature about their antics – not that it made her stop trying to grab the keys.
"Jones," she warned him with a deathly glare to which he simply smiled. He opened the driver's side door and jumped in without another word, leaving her to groan and stomp around to the other side. It appeared he would be the one driving today.
8888
The right-hand man's house was a twenty minute drive from the police headquarters, his residence located in one of the nicer apartment buildings in town. They pulled up out front and hopped out, entering through the glass double doors side-by-side. A guard stood at the elevator and a quick flash of their credentials had them shooting up in the pristine elevator to the twentieth floor – the penthouse.
She scrutinized the strange pattern ingrained into the glass on the elevator doors as the familiar gut-dropping sensation took a hold of her. She would have to tell Graham that their most recent case was a local one, which was lucky really. Now she would be able to work on their case and the problem of preventing her homicidal… what even was he? She didn't rightly know how to describe what had been with Neal.
A cruel part of her taunted a word that she knew applied, but Emma didn't dare let it fall into the list of things she was willing to call him.
Her thoughts were brought back to the present when the glass she was staring at parted, the elevator doors opening to reveal a short corridor of grey carpet, white walls and silver furnishings. Emma pushed herself from the wall and exited the elevator, Killian following behind her as she made her way towards the only door at the end, the one that read in elegant black script on the door: Penthouse.
Killian was quickly sidling up to her as they walked.
"Remember what David said," he commented light-heartedly and Emma rolled her eyes.
"Who are we looking for?" she asked instead when they reached the door, stopping in front of it and turning to her partner.
He pulled out his phone and opened the message from Ruby, selecting the photo she'd sent him so it loaded on the small screen. Killian held the phone out so they could both see the photo as they walked up the veranda steps.
"James Prince."
The man they were looking for had dark blonde hair, deep blue eyes and a hard jaw. In fact, as she stared closer at the picture, minus a few details, the man looked almost identical to David.
"He looks a bit like David," Killian commented, unwittingly voicing her inner dialogue as he locked his phone and put it back in his pocket.
Emma nodded thoughtfully and spun back to face the door, knocking on it a couple of times. From inside, she could hear as someone's footsteps hit what sounded like stairs, growing louder and then abruptly becoming soft again. When the door opened, Prince stood behind it, a black silk bathrobe draped across his form. He raised an eyebrow at both agents and smirked, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back somewhat smugly.
"Agents of the law, I'm guessing?" he said, rocking back on his heels as his eyes very blatantly raked down Emma's form and she rolled her eyes.
"James Prince, I'm guessing?" Killian retorted beside her, a definite grind in his voice that hadn't been present before. At his voice, Prince turned his attention to her partner and he studied him momentarily before shrugging nonchalantly.
"Unless someone else lives in the Penthouse," he said, emphasizing the last word and looking directly at Emma, as though his residence might affect her in some way. She shook her head and shifted her weight drolly, letting Killian take the lead on this one.
"We have a few questions for you."
"Luckily for you, I'm not going to ask for your grounds because I have nothing to hide and I am a very accommodating gentleman," Prince said, his comment very clearly directed at Emma as he winked and opened the door wider for them to pass inside. Killian led the way and the blonde followed quickly behind him, entering a large open room with great glass windows covering most of the opposite wall. A metal and glass round staircase sat to their left, plush white couches strewn in front of them around a large television.
There was a kitchen to their right, all stainless steel and black marble. They walked until they heard the door shut and then turned around to face Prince as he swaggered forward.
"Do you want anything? A drink perhaps?" he asked with a winning smile.
"Do you know anything about Connor Tate's death?" Emma asked in a deadpan, bypassing the question entirely. She was really not in the mood to deal with this jackass - especially not when she was supposed to be working with Graham tonight on their little problem (little being the understatement of the year).
Prince frowned faux innocently and shook his head, "I've no idea who that is."
Lie.
Emma shook her head and turned to her partner so he understood the reliability of the man's reply. He blew out an exasperated breath and turned to face Prince again – they knew how to make this ass give them what they wanted. Emma shoved her hands in her pockets and leaned against the back of the white leather couch, smirking internally when Prince's hand twitched as though to admonish her, but he stayed, his face still masked by mirth.
"Just clarifying, but you're George King's right hand man?" Emma asked, cocking her head to the side.
Prince shrugged, "Again, I have no idea who you're on about. Are you sure you have the right person?"
Lie.
Even Killian didn't need her signal to know that was a lie, rolling his eyes.
"Does King have an informant in the CIA?" her partner questioned.
"That wouldn't be too good would it?" Prince countered with a patronizing smirk. The answer was neither here nor there in terms of honesty but his tone belied the general idea that there was, in fact, a mole. She narrowed her eyes in scrutiny at the man.
"Did the informant give up Connor Tate?"
"What informant?"
Emma barely suppressed a groan of irritation at the vague answer, turning to face Killian with a mildly pleading look on her face, "Can we please break protocol?" she asked in a hushed tone so Prince couldn't hear her. A smile ghosted her partner's lips but he shook his head and turned back to their suspect.
"Are you married?" he asked abruptly, looking around the apartment.
Prince shook his head, "No."
"Do you live here all year?" Killian questioned, raising a speculative eyebrow, ignoring the strange look Emma was shooting in his direction. Prince shrugged and tightened the silk sash around his robe.
"Mostly."
"Were you born in America?"
"Yeah."
"What about your parents?"
"No."
He continued shooting off questions, simple ones that had Prince answering in quick, short succession – yeses, nos and maybes in a swift string of dialogue that had Emma on the verge of questioning her partner's tactic. Until he asked a question that was very different to the others, and, already having lulled Prince into a sort of false sense of security, he answered honestly.
"Did King's informant reveal Connor Tate's identity?"
"Yes."
There was a moment of silence as a satisfactory smile spread on Killian's lips and Emma couldn't help but marginally smirk. In front of them, Prince stood stock still, his eyes widening in realization before narrowing with anger. His mouth twisted into a scowl and he walked closer, pointing an accusing finger.
"You – you can't use that! I bet you two don't even have plausible or legal reason to ask me questions," he growled.
Killian sighed, "Well actually, since this is a matter of national security – we have every right to question you. In fact, we could have dragged you down to the station if we wanted but we figured you'd be more complacent here."
Prince's eyes flashed furiously between the two agents.
"King didn't kill him," he said abruptly and Emma was shocked to see that it was the truth.
"What?" she said before she could hold her tongue, her brows drawing together in confusion.
"You heard me – he only found out after Tate was found dead," Prince said angrily, stalking forward some more.
"So you'd be willing to provide an alibi for that?" Emma asked.
"I was at Joe's Grill down the street with King until midnight – and I'm pretty sure they have security tapes!" he responded defensively pointing to the windows behind her as though she would jump out right then and there and start flying down towards the restaurant down the street. She stood up from where she'd been leaning on the back of the couch.
"Are you sure King didn't hire someone to kill Tate?"
"Pretty damn sure," Prince answered honestly, his face still tinted with indignation.
"Who's the mole, then?" Emma asked and he shook his head, unfortunately telling the truth.
"The only person who knows is King."
Emma opened her mouth to speak again but was cut off by a sharp bark somewhere to her right. The strange click of claws scrabbling on glass sounded and her eyes snapped onto the staircase to where a large black dog was making its way down. And suddenly Emma felt short of breath.
Her muscles tightened, her hand moved to the gun at her side, flashes of rabid dogs in darkness as a pool of blood coated her arms playing behind her lids with every blink as she felt herself stiffen. The dog made it to the floor and trotted towards them, its tongue lolling out the side of its mouth as it panted.
Once she would have thought it endearing.
Now she only felt anxiety creep up on her, a sweat breaking out across her neck.
"Emma?"
She spun around at the sound of her name to see Killian giving her a look of mixed concern and confusion. Prince, on the other hand, simply had an eyebrow cocked in question, his eyes flickering down to her hand that still hovered over her saddled weapon. She pried her hand away from the brown leather of the gun pouch, forcing it to drop to her side as she schooled her features, though she stepped back so she had the dog in her peripheral vision.
Killian's gaze on hers silently implored her, asking her if she was okay, and she nodded.
"I'll wait outside," she said before either man could talk, walking quickly towards the door and closing it behind her. The small hall was air-conditioned but it felt stagnant as she walked in.
What the hell is going on with you? She asked herself silently, running a hand through her blonde locks.
When the dog barked again behind the closed door, Emma jumped, her hand reaching up to grapple with the left side of her chest over her heart as it beat rapidly. Dogs had never been a problem before.
But now, with the ingrained images of the feral dogs trying to gnaw on her for seconds, she couldn't help but cringe away from the mere thought of the dog in the room mere meters from her – especially because of its resemblance to the ones that had attacked her in Reed's barn. Emma closed her eyes and leaned against the wall, taking deep breaths so her heart rate could calm down.
It felt like less than a second later when the door opened again and Killian stepped out, considerably more sober than before. She dropped her hand and kept her face neutral as he approached and crossed his arms as he stood in front of her, his cerulean eyes studying her carefully. Her mind replayed a similar setting in a warmer, yellowing hall way not too long ago. When she'd tried to push him away. When he'd gotten far too close.
"You alright, love?" he asked, his voice like a cold splash of water.
Emma nodded fervently, trying to appear unfazed – and distantly knowing it wouldn't work – as she replied with a shrug, "Yeah, fine. Did you get anything else?"
Killian didn't answer for a long second, his gaze flickering between her eyes with something like indecision in the icy blue depths, before he let out a breath and answered, somewhat reluctantly, "No, but I managed to slip a tracking device into his wallet."
She nodded and pushed herself up off the wall, already trying to divert the subject of her sudden fear of dogs that she knew was circling his mind, "So he and King found out about the mole in their organization after he was dead?"
He nodded, "Yep – and they both have alibis so they couldn't have killed him anyway – unless he was lying?" Killian raised a speculative eyebrow at her and she shook her head with a tired sigh.
"He wasn't lying," Emma took a deep breath and rubbed her forehead, a headache ebbing around her temples, "So it's either common murder or someone else related to the operation."
"What if it was the mole, like Ruby suggested?" he supplied.
She nodded and chewed on the inside of her cheek, "That sounds plausible." Shoving her hands in her pockets, Emma turned around and started walking back to the elevator, "We should get back to the office." She reached the elevator and pressed the button, watching as it lit up and her eyes lifted to the triangle in the top right corner of the wall she was facing. Killian was quickly beside her, his eyebrow drawn together in reproach.
"You should go home," he said, "I'll drop you on my way back to the office."
"Jones, I'm fine," Emma replied, unable to keep the fatigue from pulling at her articulation.
"Swan, you're not," Killian retorted in kind, "It's late and you need sleep. I'll tell David what we found."
The elevator doors opened and she walked in, once again letting her back fall against the cool metal wall, and fixed her partner with a stern look as he joined her in the small space, "No, we'll tell David what we found."
The elevator doors closed and they were silent, his eyes intent on hers as a silent war of wills was waged between them. Emma's jaw was set, her stance firm even as she felt exhaustion creeping up on her, and he groaned after a long moment, shaking his head and she knew he was about to grudgingly concede.
"But you're going home straight after that," he said determinedly and Emma let his gaze drop so she could once again trace the lines of the elevator doors opposite her with her eyes.
"Unless David has something else for us to do," she responded obstinately.
And she could swear she heard him mutter something like, "You're a stubborn bint when you want to be," before the elevator stopped moving, the doors opened and they walked back to the car where he would once again drive them back.
8888
"Emma?... Emma?" a voice whispered, growing firmer each time she refused to respond until eventually her eyes fluttered open. She looked around, realization setting in as she recognized the car interior.
Shit. She'd fallen asleep on the drive back to the office.
Emma pushed herself into a straighter position in the seat and looked out the window. They weren't in the work car park, they were parked on the street, her apartment building on their left. She gave her partner a deadpan look as she turned to him and he simply raised his eyebrows.
"You fell asleep."
"Really?" she replied sarcastically, rolling her neck and swallowing a couple of times – trying to get rid of the weird after-nap taste, "I thought I told you –"
"You did, but you fell asleep in the car, Swan. You won't be of any help if you're snoring on the table so get inside and I'll see you tomorrow."
She still didn't budge, silently weighing up her options but already leaning towards the door as her own mind turned to how great it would feel to collapse into her bed and just not ever move. Emma chewed on her bottom lip and Killian noticed her indecision, sighing and turning his torso more towards her.
"Listen, I'll tell David you were sick if you really want – but I'm not driving you back to work," he said and she could see by the way he was looking at her that this was already a battle long lost.
"What about my car?" she asked, suddenly remembering that indeed her vehicle was still parked in the garage under their office.
"I can pick you up tomorrow morning if you need," he responded instantly, unwavering in his resolve.
Emma studied him for another minute before she blew out a long, loud breath and unbuckled her seatbelt.
"No, you don't need to. I'll get a taxi in… and don't worry about telling David I'm sick," she said, opening the car door and jumping out. She patted her pocket to check she had her wallet and keys and sure enough, they were there. The car door was still open and only half of Killian's face could be seen as the streetlight filtered in through the windshield.
"I'll see you tomorrow," Emma said, letting a sliver of gratitude curl her tone. He nodded in response and she shut the door, turning around and heading into the apartment building. It wasn't until she was inside that he finally pulled back onto the road.
8888
"What did I miss last night?" Emma asked the next morning, sidling up to David and looking at the white board and pin board side by side, the photos and words jumbling together to form what was supposed to be a collage of evidence and theories. To her, it just looked like a spider web of confusion.
"Well, Killian told me about Prince and King – but I've still got the CIA analyst and Ruby checking their alibi just in case. We also have a track on Prince thanks to Jones which they're also keeping tabs on. I was able to speak to two of Tate's co-workers last night – the other three are coming in this morning. So far, they've all said the same thing – great guy, workaholic, no immediate family."
"What about Phillip? What did he find?" Emma asked, looking between the images and linking what David was saying. There were two profile photos that had writing underneath while another three remained blank. There was a picture of King and Prince on the right side of the board with their information as well as a note next to the latter's which reminded them of the tracker.
"The M.E. said that the fracture of his neck suggests military training so we're starting to think Ruby might be right about the killer being the mole. And Henry –"
Henry raised his hand like a schoolboy trying to garner himself some attention as he spoke up, cutting David off from his position at the table in front of the laptop, "I was reading through his case journal and he was meticulous about everything – kept dates, addresses and numbers. He was close to bringing the whole things down but all of the pages where the specifics were mentioned have been torn out. He wasn't a big risk taker considering his profession – he liked calculated risks."
"So he would have to have been close with the un-sub to go out in the middle of the night to meet them, no questions asked," Emma said, and nodded, "that would also explain how the mole found out about him being close to shutting it down before the bureau."
David nodded and she could see in her peripheral vision as Killian came up beside her, "So basically, from what we can deduce, the killer was probably the mole – who also happens to be someone that Tate trusted – and this person didn't tell King about Tate until after he was already dead."
"If this person was so close to Tate, why wait until the pressure was on to kill him?" Emma posed, stepping back to sit on the edge of the table.
"And why did he or she wait until after Tate was dead to tell King?" Killian questioned, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully.
It seemed Phillip's turn to interject as he turned in his chair to face them, fingers poised in front of him in consternation, "Well, the killer may not have wanted to kill Tate and only did so when they felt threatened? Which could link in to not telling King?"
"How?" David asked.
"Well," Phillip said, "if the un-sub was afraid of King, he or she would want their loose ends tied when they went to him, wouldn't they? I mean, if King found out the mole knew about Tate and didn't tell him…?" he didn't have to finish the sentence for them to catch on and Emma considered the notion. It was feasible. The mole would have wanted Tate dead so when he told his boss, he would stand a better chance of living.
And yet, something about it didn't sit right with Emma.
The killer clearly had military training and the death via broken neck didn't seem like the sort of thing a person who was wily and spineless would do. A walking contradiction indeed. She shook her head and focused back on the present just as Sidney made his way into the room, looking to David.
"Agent Gaffney's here," he said and the Unit Chief nodded, turning to his team members.
"One of Tate's co-workers," he explained briefly and returned his attention to Sidney, still standing in the doorway, "Which room?"
"Two-oh-four," the man answered and David nodded again, this time walking towards the door. He looked over his shoulder as he did, pointing to Phillip, "Come on – you're going to give me your professional opinion." The British agent followed quickly behind his superior and they had just left the room when Henry's laptop began to ring. Killian and Emma moved towards it as Henry, now standing in front of one of the white boards, looked over his shoulder at them.
"Who is it?" the young man asked, his hand poised with the marker over the board.
"Ruby," Emma answered, sitting down in the seat beside Killian in front of the laptop. The tech analyst was video calling them and her partner answered it before it rang out. On the screen, an image of Ruby appeared in a foreign office, clearly a lot larger than hers with a lot brighter lights.
As she appeared on the monitor, hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail, Killian was the first to speak, "What you got, Red?"
"Other than a bedazzling personality and dashing smile?" she grinned in reply, leaning forward into the camera.
"So modest," an unfamiliar voice laughed from the computer and Emma and Killian shared a confused glance as the brunette snapped her head to the left, an expression of mild amusement glinting in her brown eyes.
"Shut up, Free Willy," she said, pointing a red-nailed finger at someone out of the screen beside her.
There was the sound of chair wheels rolling as Emma frowned down at the screen and asked, "Who's that?"
Ruby turned back to the screen and rolled her eyes as another person came into view on the screen, his chair bumping into hers so she was pushed to the side ever so slightly, "The dead weight I've been strapped to," she said, an undercurrent of light-heartedness obvious in her tenor. The man on the leather backed chair beside her was tanned and blonde with round features and an easy smile. He nodded towards the camera though his eyes were clearly focused on a screen below it.
"The name's Victor Whale – I'm the fed's tech analyst," he said with a self-deprecating laugh, "Nice to meet you."
"Killian Jones," Killian introduced himself with a nod.
"Emma Swan," the blonde said, repeating her partner's motions.
Victor smiled, "I know."
Both agents stiffened, their voices coming out on the same breath, "What?"
"Ruby's told me all about you," he said, glancing at the woman beside him on the screen. She grinned, even as both Emma and Killian glared at the camera, earning nothing but a shrug from the recipient of their light scowls. She threw her hands up defensively and Victor laughed as she spoke, his eyes focused on her.
"What?" she said and dropped her hands to her hips, still somehow managing to thrust her hip to the side petulantly even though she was seated, "Do you want to hear what I –"
"We –" Victor interrupted momentarily but she just continued speaking.
"- Found?" Ruby finished.
Killian blinked once and sighed, clearly letting the subject drop as he gave the laptop an incredulous look, "Well, we didn't answer your call just to listen to your voice."
"Oh, but it is a magical voice," Ruby grinned.
"Again with the modesty," Victor chuckled, leaning back in his seat. Ruby punched him half-heartedly in the arm so his chair slid partially out of the frame. When she looked back to the camera, she poised herself as though nothing had happened, her fingers ready to type should the two agents have any inquiries throughout her debrief.
"We're tracking the device you put in Prince's wallet and he hasn't gone anywhere suspicious yet. As for Tate's GPS, nothing stands out so far but I'm going to cross check both and see what I find."
"What about Tate's CIA file – anything that might help us?" Emma asked.
"Nope – and before you ask, it's the same with his colleagues. They were all stand up citizens and employees," Ruby answered and Victor frowned for a second before tapping the brunette on the arm so she turned to face him. There was some mumbling for a second before she grinned and looked back to the camera where Killian and Emma were waiting with raised eyebrows.
"Victor's just had an idea – if Prince has a GPS in his car, the CIA equipment can hack into it and we can look at his past destinations. And we can check into both Tate and Prince's search history – see what we find," Ruby explained.
"Go for it – call if you have anything," Killian replied, shooting Ruby one last smile before closing the laptop and sitting back in the leather chair. Emma propped her head up in her hand and blew out a deep breath, her thoughts racing between unlinked thoughts and evidence and theories – her mind suddenly resembling the mess of a pin board hung up in the room. A part of her was still trying to recover from the whiplash that was Henry's abduction and rescue, another was pushing for her to work with Graham on the whole 'Neal-thing' while there was one last, steady part of her that urged her to take one thing at a time; mainly, this case.
When she looked up from the desk, she could feel Killian's eyes on her.
He didn't say anything for a long moment and when he did, it threw her off guard just how off-topic his question felt.
"Are you still going to the gala?"
Emma blinked in confusion before she registered his question and nodded, "Yeah – I think Ruby got me a dress… when's it on again?"
"Tomorrow."
She groaned and restrained the urge to fall onto the table, head-first. Instead she just chewed the inside of her cheek and cursed under her breath. She thought it was next week.
"Will we still be able to go - with the case and everything?"
Killian nodded, "You know how Regina is with keeping up appearances."
Of-freaking-course.
8888
She entered her apartment just as her phone started buzzing in her pocket. Again, she felt exhausted and it couldn't even be attributed to hard labour. They had literally spent the rest of the day going through files and making conjectures about the killer so they had a pretty full profile – a piece of the puzzle still missing. Ruby was still compiling and cross-checking all the GPS data, Prince had yet to go somewhere interesting and their internet searches hadn't revealed anything really useful yet.
As the door shut behind Emma, she hung her keys on the hook next to the door and moved to pull her phone out of her pocket.
"Hello?" she answered walking past the kitchen and into her bedroom, moving towards her bed so she could sit down and pull off her boots.
"Emma, it's me," Graham's voice came through the receiver, and once again it was stained by worry.
"What's wrong?"
She was about to sit down when something caught her eye on her bed. Something silver glinting in the middle of the quilt, something small, almost invisible on the grey cotton. She leaned over the edge of the bed and moved to pick it up, and was about to when her mind finally snapped to attention, placing the silver object and prompting her to recoil like she'd been burned with a hot iron.
Graham's voice came through just as the phone dropped through her slack grip, falling to the floor, "Neal's in Virginia."
Emma moved backwards until her back hit the wall and she cursed angrily, both audibly and in her head.
But now, with the small diamond swan glinting in the white moonlight that filtered in through the window, Emma was suddenly thrust into a memory, her eyes squinting shut as golden-lit images entered her mind's eye.
April 2005
The French countryside was beautiful in summer but enchanting in spring. The rolling hills where the bright green pastures bloomed looked like something one might see as a desktop screensaver. It was a truly breathtaking sight to behold, and one Emma made sure to store as they drove along the dirt road.
They were driving along an off-road path, their car shaded by the canopies of trees that lined each side, when she felt the vehicle she was riding in come to a stop. She sat up in the black leather seat, straightening her cream blouse and preparing herself for the business that was about to go down. It was actually quite a shame that such a beautiful roadway should be home to such morose dealings.
The car door opened and Emma stepped out carefully, her brown leather boots hitting the dirt lightly as she landed. The blonde pushed her sunglasses off her nose since the trees provided adequate coverage, and she began walking towards the back of the large truck.
Barely a minute passed before a convoy of three black BMW's appeared in the distance, making their way towards the truck she was now seated on the back of. The blonde tied her hair in a loose pony tail as she waited, checking her watch in idle boredom. When the cars finally stopped, men spilled from each one like ants spilling from a nest. They were all dressed in black suits and each one had a handgun barely concealed on their hips.
Six of the men in suits stayed close to the cars as two escorted the only man not wearing a suit up to where Emma was waiting. She jumped down from the edge of the truck and spread out her arms, already prepared for the inevitable pat-down.
One of the penguin-esque men stepped forward and concisely ensured she wasn't wearing any wires. He noticed her own weapon and was about to remove it when she raised an eyebrow in the direction of her customer. He called the bodyguard back, leaving Emma with her firearm still strapped to her ankle.
"Do you have the product?" Neal asked.
"Of course," she replied, stepping aside so the bodyguards could advance on the truck's contents. They opened the fabric flap and began rifling through the various weapons and arsenal she had brought. Emma walked to stand beside the man wearing dark jeans and a simple pale blue button-up.
"I'm disappointed. Where's your suit?" she asked, raising a speculative eyebrow.
Beside her, Neal smirked, "You should know by now I'm not the type to wear a suit."
Emma shook her head with a barely concealed grin, waiting for his men to finish checking her product. When they did, one approached them, his scrutiny of the blonde obvious and slightly insulting. She raised her eyebrows defiantly.
"Problem?"
He turned to his boss, "This stuff's too good. Even our best suppliers don't have some of the gear she has. If you ask me, it's too good to be true."
"Well no one asked you, did they?" Emma countered; fixing the bald suited man with an icy glare, she was pretty sure his name was Greg. Both she and his bodyguard turned back to Neal, waiting for his response. He looked at Emma warily before turning back to the suit.
"I'll take care of it," he said, and then to Emma, "Follow me."
She kept her expression neutral, nodding indifferently and walking behind him as he made way to the second BMW. He opened the car door and ushered her in, an order which she promptly obeyed. When the door was closed, she didn't turn to him but kept her eyes ahead and her face expressionless.
"Are you going to… take care of me?" she asked stoically.
He gave her a grim nod, "Yes."
There was a brief moment of silence before she turned to face him, an impish smile already forming on her face.
"Good."
He grinned as she leant forward, pulling him in for a chaste kiss. He was the one to deepen it, pulling her closer so she was sitting on his lap. They stayed like that for a long while, their lips locked together as they chuckled faintly at the idea his men thought he might actually kill her – she'd captivated him too much for him to ever get rid of her. And she knew it.
Emma pulled herself away after a while, sitting back in the seat and simply observing the man beside her. Neal watched her carefully before putting his hand in his pocket and pulling something out.
It was a leather pouch and the blonde raised her eyebrows in curiosity.
"What's that?" she asked, nodding at the small bag in his palm. His roguish smile had shivers running up her spine and she sat up a little straighter, waiting for him to explain.
Neal untied the pouch, tipping the contents onto his hands. Out of the small purse dropped something silver, its lustre brilliant and oddly mesmerizing. With his calloused fingers, he plucked the thing from his palm to reveal it as a dainty and utterly flawless silver necklace. On the end of the delicate chain there was a small glass swan – or at least Emma wrongfully assumed it was glass.
She stared in shock at the beautiful jewel, watching hypnotized as it swung back and forth at the end of the chain like a pendulum.
His brown eyes stayed on her face and she finally looked up to meet his gaze.
"Do you like it?" he asked, the tenderness in his tone making Emma's stomach do strange things.
She stuttered for a second, something uncharacteristic for her, "I-I… it's beautiful… is it for me?"
He chuckled, "Of course it's for you… who else would I buy jewellery for?" Emma rolled her eyes and he gestured for her to turn around. She did so and pulled her pony tail out of the way, her eyes downcast as he gently placed the chain around her neck and locked the clasp in place.
She turned back around, warmth radiating from her as she looked at him.
"Thank you," she said, leaning forward to place a gentle kiss on his lips.
Neal returned the action, pulling her towards him so he could embrace her.
"I love you, Jennifer," he whispered, and it was like cold ice being thrust down her back. She didn't let it show of course because if she stiffened or corrected him, her cover would be blown. So instead she relaxed into his arms despite the sudden and cruel reminder that this was not her life or future. That he was a mission.
That she was slowly compromising her ability to do her job.
Emma opened her eyes and locked them onto the swan pendant, abruptly hyper-aware of her surroundings. It finally occurred to her that his little gift meant two things: he was coming for her and he had been inside of her apartment.
Graham's voice drifted indecipherable out of the phone, the only sound in her now-silent bedroom.
Her mind, on the other hand, was another thing altogether as voices and thoughts and images meshed together in a maelstrom that would soon become a blinding headache.
Well shit. It's Neal again.
Pretty please review? And for those of you asking - next chapter our lovely idiots are going to be a bit more overt about their feelings (think slow dancing and D&M eye contact/conversation) - I had giddy butterflies just writing it.