"I'm sorry...I know I'm early..." Dora started to back out through the doorway, but Archie stopped her.

"No, no...it's fine, Dora. Please, come in."

She stood nervously in the center of the room, looking around. "Henry told me that you're good to talk to."

Archie's smile got wider. "He's a great kid."

"Yes. He's very kind."

There was an awkward silence, broken when Archie finally cleared his throat. "Why don't you sit down?"

"Thank you." She said politely, sitting on the very edge of the couch. She tried not to fidget as Archie stared. Finally, he must've realized he was doing it because he cleared his throat again.

"Why don't we just get to know each other for a while," he suggested. "You're so new, I don't really know much about you."

Dora's entire demeanor changed. She wrapped her arms around herself, and her face became shuttered, closed off.

"That's probably for the best," she murmured.

Archie gave her an appraising look, and she couldn't help but notice the kindness in his eyes.

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that," he offered. "Now...what brings you here today?"

"I was under the impression that you know most everyone in town," she said.

Archie nodded. "I suppose that's fair to say. Are you looking for someone? Is that it?"

She wet her lips nervously, not meeting his eyes. "Something like that. Someone who collects...old things."

Archie thought for a moment, pursing his lips. "Nobody like that in town," he said. "But we do have an old, abandoned pawn shop. The owner has long since left town. You could apply to the mayor's office to find out who's got ownership now."

Dora stood abruptly. "The mayor - where do I find him?"

Archie pushed up to his feet as well. "Her, actually. Mayor Regina Mills just became mayor again for her second term, since another candidate hasn't materialized yet. She works out of her home for the time being."

"Can you supply me with the address?"

"Yes, of course. It's just down the street. Her husband is one of my oldest friends."

"Thank you." She moved to go past him to the door, and Archie reached out, touching her arm gently.

"Dora? How are you doing? Without Neal, I mean."

Her face became sad again, and the melancholy in her voice pulled at Archie. "It's lonely," she answered in a near whisper. She looked up at him, and the sadness in her gaze made him want to...no, that was highly inappropriate. She was his patient, after all.

"Have you ever been lonely, Dr. Hopper?"

"Archie," he said. "I-It's my name. You can call me Archie - if you'd like to, that is."

"Archie." She smiled slightly and he felt an overwhelming need to reassure her.

"I think we all feel alone sometimes, Dora. It's human nature."

"I know all about human nature," she said in a hard voice. She reached for the doorknob. "And some people are better off alone. It's easier."

"Easier," Archie agreed. "But not better. Think about that, Dora. And lets talk again tomorrow. All right?"

She shook her head no, but somehow, her mouth opened, and said "yes" instead. And as she walked down the street, she tried very hard not to think too much about the kindness in his eyes.

###

"I'm telling you, doctor - she squeezed my fingers." David was emphatic.

"It could have been an auto-reflexive response, particularly since she was receiving endocrine stimulation from the nursing," Whale theorized. "She's not responsive now."

"I know what I felt!" David insisted.

"David," Catherine said soothingly. "Maybe you dozed off a bit while you were waiting -"

"I know what I felt," he repeated again stubbornly.

Whale rubbed the back of his neck. "I'll run some tests - basic bloodwork, maybe a neuro-response panel. There was a slight jump in her EKG, but nothing out of bounds."

"You should do that," David said. "Definitely. I'm telling you - she was trying to communicate."

"Just don't get your hopes up," Whale cautioned. "People in this sort of a vegetative state can show variations from day-to-day. It doesn't mean they're waking up."

David sighed. "Okay. I'd just feel better if I know we're doing all we can," he said, glancing down at the baby in his arms. "For Neal."

"We're doing everything we can," Whale assured him.

"Let's go," Catherine said, reaching for the insulated bag carrying the breast milk that nurse had put down. "Do you want me to hold the baby?"

David shook his head. "No, I've got him." He looked down at the baby that was sleeping peacefully in his arms. "He's a sweet kid. Didn't give his mother a bit of trouble."

Catherine folded her hand around David's arm. "I'm his mother now," she reminded him, then she pulled him toward the door. David's face was troubled as he looked back at Mary Margaret one last time.

Dr. Whale turned back to Mary Margaret, placing his fingers at the pulse on her wrist. He looked down at her, pursing his lips.

"You don't want me trying to figure this out," he mumbled, reaching in the pocket of his jacket for his flask. "I'll just end up killing you. Your better off sleeping than under my care."

He took a healthy swig, then mumbled a couple of swear words under his breath. A moment later, he was hastily stuffing the flask back in his pocket.

"Henry!" he called out, as Henry stepped through the door. "Didn't see you come in."

"I need your help," Henry said. "How do I see someone who's in the isolation ward?"

Whale looked taken aback. "You mean downstairs?"

"Yes. There's someone there who doesn't belong there. I need to get her out."

"Henry," Whale said reasonably, "You don't just check someone out of the isolation unit. People there have been committed, and for a very good reason. They're a danger to themselves or to others."

"But not this girl," Henry pleaded. "Just come with me. Examine her. You'll see."

"Henry -"

"Please! I know you doubt yourself, but this girl needs our help." He stared at Whale, his eyes pleading. "Please."

Whale let out a sigh. "I can give her a physical exam, but you'll have to get her examined by a psychiatric professional as well. The release orders have to be countersigned, and she has to be remanded into the custody of a trusted individual."

"Like the mayor?"

Whale nodded. "Yes. Like the mayor. And she'll need to be supervised - and again, all this is provided she passes both the physical and psychological examinations."

"I'll got get Archie while you're doing the physical exam." Henry moved over to the door that led to the back stairwell into the basement.

"Henry, wait. There's an access code -"

"My Mo- I mean, the mayor - gave me the access code," Henry said, punching it in. "She's down there, and we've got to get her out. Come on!"

Henry took off down the stairs, and Whale threw up his hands, following after.

###

Emma and Killian had a long walk ahead of them, and by the time they reached the edge of the older part of the strip, they were hot, parched and dusty as hell. They found a very small casino not far off Fremont Street that had clearly seen better days.

"How are you at poker?" Emma asked as they walked into the cool darkness. It took a moment for their eyes to adjust to the light.

"This is a gaming hall?" Killian asked. "Is there anything with dice?"

"Craps, but I warn you - you can't use your weighted dice here," she cautioned. "They'll catch you and we'll both be in jail. Every casino has security people and tons of camera surveillance to deter that sort of stuff."

"Then I'll just have to depend on my own good fortunes," he said, giving her a rakish grin.

"Do you have any money?" she asked. "We have to have something to start with."

"And I suppose you're averse to picking pockets?" he said, raising a brow.

"That's a definite 'no.' They'll see that, too." She pointed up at the nearest camera mounted in the ceiling.

"I suppose we'll have to rely on our charms, then," he said. He gave her an appraising look. "If I could find you a dress, we'd be flush with cash within the hour."

Emma gave him a smirk, and then a nudge. "That might not be necessary. Check out the lady with the rocks on her fingers."

Killian gave a casual glance over Emma's right shoulder, to the garishly dressed older woman at the nearest slot machine. She had gaudy rings on every finger, hair dyed an unnatural shade of red, and entirely too much lipstick and eyeliner, particularly for a woman of her advanced years. She eyed Killian with obvious interest, giving him a wink as he smiled in her direction.

"Go wash up or something, Swan" he murmured, keeping his smile in place. "I'll go have a chat with the lovely...lady."

"Knock 'em dead, sailor." She patted his back and then made herself scarce. Killian walked over to the older woman, sliding onto the stool at the open machine next to her.

"Hello love," he said, locking his blue eyes on hers with deadly intent. "What are we playing?"

Forty-eight minutes later, he found Emma sipping a cool drink in a darkened corner. He stopped in front of her, reaching down for her hand. "Are you ready to go, love?"

Emma's eyes widened. "You've snookered her already?"

Kiillian's eyes widened as well. "Does that mean what I think it means?"

Emma rolled her eyes. "You took her money?"

"I borrowed the money she so kindly offered me," he clarified. "Who bought you the drink?"

"It turns out men don't really care if you're wearing dirty coveralls," she said with a shrug. "They'll still buy you a drink."

"You could be wearing your mother's clothes and I'd buy you a drink," Killian said with a grin. "Or even nothing at all, if you prefer."

She finished the last of her drink, then stood up and grabbed his hand. "Come on, loverboy. Let's get some food."

Emma pulled him along toward the nearest restaurant, which was right next door to a boutique that sold a variety of clothing and jewelry.

"Did you make enough to buy me some clothes?"

He gave her a slightly offended look. "So little faith in me, Swan." He reached in his pocket, dropping a large roll of bills in her hand.

"Holy cow! She gave you all this?"

"I paid her back once I'd made my own money," he said. "And she started me with far less than this."

"This should bankroll us all the way home. We just need to figure out the best way to get there without being noticed."

"Already taken care of, love," Killian said, gloating. "My flamboyant benefactress has kindly offered us passage on her private jet. She lives in New York, and will be happy to take us back with her tomorrow evening."

"Killian! That's perfect! No security, no trail - you're amazing!" she hugged him tight. "You must've really done a number on her!"

"I was merely my charming self," he said. "And the only request she made of me was that I join her organization. Oh, and you're my sister, if she should ask."

"Your sister." She gave him a look.

"I can manage to keep my hand off you for the length of the flight. At least I think I can," he qualified.

"Mmmm-hmm," she said doubtfully. "Come on, let's find me something to wear and then find some food. I'm starving."

"And then we can find a room," he suggested. She gave him another look. "Or two." He raised his brows, trying to look innocent.

"We'll see." She gave him a mysterious smile, and headed through the door of the boutique. He followed her with a slow, spreading grin on his face.

"So what's this organization you agreed to join?" she asked, flipping through a rack of dresses.

He shrugged. "Something called 'The Mile High Club.'"