The walk to the precinct was a long one. I should have asked for a ride. Emma thought. But then again, someone would have asked what she business she had there, and she wouldn't be able to tell them. Even though she had promised Neal that she wasn't going to ask anymore, she had to. Someone was dead, and the guilt weighed on her heavily. She didn't know exactly what she was going to do once she got there. Officer Jones probably wouldn't be able to tell her anything. But she had to know something. She couldn't keep going through the motions everyday, knowing that Neal and herself had potentially been accessories in a murder. Since he had lied, telling her he would disclose the truth to her and then refusing to tell her anything, she had to take matters into her own hands.

Inside the precinct was only a bit warmer than outside. It smelled of paper and ink, and stale coffee. A woman sat in front, typing furiously at a typewriter. She looked up at Emma over her wire rimmed glasses. "Excuse me-" Emma said, approaching the desk, hands trembling.

The woman held up a finger to stop her from talking, and continued typing like her life depended on it. When she finished, she removed her glasses and wiped them on her stained white cardigan. "Yes?"

Emma was baffled. If this was any indication how the rest of the night was going to go, it was going to be miserable. She cleared her throat and tried not to fiddle with her shirtsleeves. "I'm here to see Officer Jones."

The woman rolled her eyes. "Just missed him." She said. Now she was no longer even looking at Emma. She was shuffling papers around in a drawer noisily. Probably Emma's cue to go.

"Well, do you know where I can find him?" She was no longer nervous. Irritation had overshadowed any other emotion she was having at the moment, and it bled through into her voice. The receptionist stared daggers at Emma and sighed a long, heavy sigh. "Well, I'm not supposed to disclose his address... What exactly is your business with Officer Jones?" Her voice was accusatory. Like Emma was an assassin, looking for young officers to target.

Panicked, Emma said the first thing that came to her mind. It wasn't a good idea, at all. But it was the best thing she could think of short notice. She placed a hand over her abdomen and rubbed around in a small circle. "May I just say that I have something very important to tell him." She smiled and tilted her head to the side.

The woman's eyes were as large as saucers, bugging out even farther as she put her glasses back on. "Oh. Ahem. Uh, yes. Well. Let me just write that down for you." She took out a pen and scrawled out the address on a scrap of paper. "Here you go." She said, looking absolutely scandalized. Emma took the paper. She felt guilty. This poor officer was going to have to deal with awful rumors now because of her. Hopefully he would be able to clear things up.

She lifted the paper closer and read the address. She groaned. He lived in east Manhattan, which was too far to walk. She would have to take a taxi, using the money she had just gotten paid. On her limited income, she hated to spend any money at all. She was saving. For what, she didn't really know. She was waiting to find a dream. Something to spend all that saved money on.

Rain started pouring down in sheets, and suddenly she wished that she had brought a coat. Standing on the wet pavement, she hailed a taxi. When she got in she read the address off of the paper to the cabbie. "What ya headed down there for?" He asked, looking at her through the rear view mirror.

"I'm going to see a friend." She replied simply before slouching in her seat and looking out the window, hoping to avoid any more questions. The man nodded and didn't ask any more questions for the remainder of the 20 minute ride. Rain pattered on the roof of the cab, and Emma played mindlessly with her bracelet, until the car stopped. The cabbie turned around in his seat. "Here you are." He said, motioning toward the apartment building. Emma reached in her purse and pulled out a wad of money and handed it to him. He looked thoughtful for a second before handing it back. "Nah. I'll cover this one for you Hon. You look like you're having a hard enough day." He smiled kindly and patted Emma's hand.

She stepped out of the cab and ran inside, avoiding a further soaking. The officer lived on the fourth level. She took the stairs two at a time, and searched for his room number. When she found it, she stood with her hands limply at her sides. Finally gaining the courage, she lifted her hand and knocked. For a moment, there was nothing. Then finally a very sleepy looking Officer Jones opened the door. He wore a white t-shirt, his hair a mess of raven waves sweeping over his forehead. His brow crinkled a bit when he saw who it was. "Miss Swan? What are you doing here? How did you get my address? Oh, you're soaking wet. Come in."

He bounced from one thing to another so quickly, Emma could barely keep up. He opened the door wider and she stepped in.

"I'm sorry to intrude, you were sleeping. This whole thing was a mistake. I should go." She turned to leave, but he grabbed her shoulder, his blue eyes filled with concern. "Whatever you came for must be important. Sit down, I'll put on some coffee and get you warmed up, alright?" He smiled reassuringly and disappeared to the kitchen. Emma sat down on the couch and closed her eyes. What am I doing? She thought. This was crazy. He wouldn't tell her anything. This was a waste of a trip.

Interrupting her thoughts, was the sound of water running. Soon enough the smell of fresh coffee wafted in the air, as the officer came in holding two ceramic mugs filled to the brim with steaming, fragrant coffee.

The Officer returned and sat on the couch. "So," he began casually, as if she hadn't just burst in and disrupted his sleep. "tell me what you're here for."