A/N – I haven't been giving my chapters titles (something I regret now) but I feel the need to give this one a name. There are 9 different POVs in this chapter and each of them takes place at the same time, all revolving around a specific event.

Chapter 15: Earthquake

Leroy did not like to be disturbed.

After spending his entire life living in a tiny, cramped house with seven brothers, he now relished having the small motel room all to himself. His new found solitude was refreshing and he refused to have his sanctuary disturbed by maids, room-service, or even his fellow co-conspirators.

Plus, he had several pounds of highly illegal, highly sensitive explosives that could blow up half the building should they be mishandled by ignorant busybodies.

He was paying for his privacy now, however. After almost three weeks of being holed up in there, he was beginning to notice the filth that had slowly consumed the room.

Soiled clothing lay scattered across every available surface. Old (and hopefully empty) pizza boxes were piled haphazardly by the door and the small kitchenette was filled with empty beer bottles. He didn't even want to think about the state of the bathroom!

There was no way he could bring Astrid back here and he was sure she would object to sleeping in those sheets.

Yup. It was time to let the maids in.

He sighed heavily and ran his hand over the back of his neck. He would have to move all the explosives while the maids were at work. He didn't dare leave them in the van or headquarters. He would have to ask one of the others to keep them in their room until his was cleaned.

Gold's son, Neal, was a pain in his ass. He would put them in his room.

Smiling impishly to himself, he picked up his grinder and whistled as he got back to work. Granny's 'package' needed to be done by Saturday and he still had lots to do. The beautiful emerald-colored jewels that she was having delivered were actually created from volatile chemicals that needed to be enclosed in a heavily padded case or Granny could lose an arm.

Possibly her head too.

As he carefully shaped the explosives to fool even Regina's careful eyes, he thought about what he would do with his share of the money.

Ten million dollars will buy a lot of beer! Plus he wanted to get his girl an engagement ring; the biggest diamond he could find. Astrid deserved it and so much more. She was definitely the girl of his dreams!

The first thing they would do is sail across the world. He had already put a hefty deposit down on a beautiful ship. He knew he was counting his chickens before they were hatched but Mr. Gold knew what he was doing when he came up with this plan.

That money was as good as his!

Right when he was about to make a very delicate incision, his hand began to shake uncontrollably. At first he thought there was a problem with the grinder. He had been using it for hours and it was bound to malfunction at some point.

Then he realized it wasn't just his hand that was shaking.

The whole room rocked with tremors.

Diving across the littered floor, he desperately tried to steady the boxes of explosives before one of them fell and turned him to ash. The earthquake lasted several seconds, each one feeling like an eternity. When they finally subsided, he allowed himself a moment of relief and sighed heavily.

Then his room was suddenly shrouded in darkness. In fact, it wasn't just his room. It looked like power was out in the entire city!

"Shit!" he swore loudly.

After ensuring that his Do Not Disturb sign was still hanging from his outer door, he grabbed his coat and ran out of the motel.

~8~8~8~

Mr. Gold sat in his motel room and stared at the five monitors that glowed brightly in front of his couch. There had originally been six, but one of them had come to a painful end by being impaled by his cane.

A large tumbler that had been filled to the brim with Scotch but an hour previously had been to blame. It now lay empty besides the chards of…whatever computer monitors are made of these days. He couldn't think tonight; he mind was befuddled by too much drink and not enough sleep.

It had been difficult day. He had found himself unable to concentrate on completing the final preparations of their mission when his mind kept wandering back to that disastrous meet with Belle the night before.

Tomorrow was Saturday; the day of the fight; the day of the heist. His team had spent the day going over each detail again and again and again. They held a dress rehearsal, so to speak, and performed one last, important task. Jefferson and August had outdone themselves with the construction of the fake vault. Everything should go exactly according to plan.

He should have been thrilled.

Instead, he shut himself up in his room when they were done, got roaring drunk and watched hours and hours of recorded footage of his beloved wife walking around the casino compound.

He watched as she left her suite that morning and walked to her museum. There was very little for her do there. The museum was so small that there was little to no maintenance to perform on the pieces and they only acquired new items from time to time.

Basically, she was glorified tour guide, tasked with explaining great works of art that no one but her would ever appreciate.

Gaston had dropped by in the morning, bringing her another cup of tea. No doubt Regina or one of her minions had prepared it for him. He didn't seem like the type who could tell the difference between Raspberry Splendor and Earl Gray.

Gold was somewhat pleased to see she seemed a bit distant with the casino manager today. Perhaps she had taken some of his warnings to heart. He knew her well enough to identify her moods, even through a hacked computer feed.

She was absolutely miserable and he hated himself for it.

The mishap with the cane happened after he had fast forwarded several hours when she was closing up shop late in the afternoon. It must have been Gaston's day off because he was waiting for her out in the lobby. Gold watched, helplessly, as this Neanderthal escorted Belle back to her quarters, his hand on her lower back, and followed her inside. The time stamp indicated that this had been almost four hours ago.

He had yet to leave.

Emma would be furious with him for losing one of her monitors but he would deal with that tomorrow. Right now he had to stop his hands from trembling so much.

Suddenly it wasn't just his hands that trembled but his entire body. Two of the monitors toppled over and a generic painting fell off of its hook to the floor below. Realization finally broke through the alcohol induced fog that permeated his brain.

Grabbing his cherished chipped tea cup and holding it protectively against his heart, he ducked underneath the coffee table and waited for the earth to stop quaking.

~8~8~8~

Granny sat in her usual booth at the motel's café furiously knitting a winter hat for Henry. She had already finished the scarf and mittens and wanted to complete the set before the team parted ways. Boston, she knew, could get quite cold in the winter, which is one reason why she chose to live in Florida.

She had grown quite fond of the little rascal in the three weeks that she had known him. He was sharp, fearless and incorrigible; just like his father was at that age.

Emma claims she had adopted Henry two years ago. That may be, but she failed to mention that first she had given birth to him and then gave him up for adoption.

She had known the truth the moment she had looked, really looked, at him. There was no doubt in her mind that Henry was Neal's son, making him her step-great-grandson; making him family.

And the one thing that she never, ever does is forget about her family.

She set her knitting down to flex her cramped fingers. Arthritis was starting to set in. God, she hated getting old! Perhaps she wouldn't get through six more husbands after all. Maybe she would end up being someone else's meal ticket for a change.

The thought was thoroughly depressing.

Granny reached out for her cup of tea to take some more Tylenol when she noticed the liquid was gently sloshing around in the mug. Suddenly, the cup itself began to shake and clink against the plate it sat upon and her spoon bounced across the table.

She quickly slid down the booth's seat and hid underneath the cheap, pressed wood table. Glasses and mugs vibrated right off of the edge of the counter, while a rickety, old shelf displaying homemade jams and preserves collapsed behind her.

With trembling hands she reached for the chain around her neck and sought out the twelve wedding bands that hung on it. The feel of the warm gold around her fingers brought her some comfort, but she continued to tremble long after the earthquake had stopped.

The pain in her chest was worsening. Digging into her purse, she ignored the Tylenol and reached for her heart medication instead.

~8~8~8~

David Nolan was in absolute heaven!

Not only would he be ten million dollars richer in about twenty-four hours, he now had someone with which to spend his vast fortune.

Mary Margaret lay next him, her lips locked with his in a passionate embrace. They had been at it for hours now, not being able to quench the lust that had been building between them for the last three weeks.

After the events of the Enchanted Forest, when he had rescued her from the wandering hands of Sidney Glass, she had finally realized that his feelings for her were real.

What they had was true love and neither of them was willing to fight it anymore.

They had talked for hours and hours. He told her everything about his childhood, the struggles his mother had faced after the passing of his father, meeting Mr. Gold who showed him another way to help his family.

She told him all about losing her mother as a child and her father's quick re-marriage to his top model. She described the incredible hurt she had felt when society had shunned her and called her crazy. How she had lost everyone and everything in her life.

Now she had hope.

He deepened the kiss and she responded just as enthusiastically, running her hands over his back as he moved over top of her. The bed rocked underneath them as their passions built, threatening to explode.

Suddenly, it wasn't just the bed that was moving.

David looked up in time to see the paintings fall off the wall and the wine glasses vibrate right off the small kitchenette table. The motel's outdoor neon lights abruptly extinguished and they were plunged into darkness.

"Did you feel that?" he asked hoarsely.

Mary Margaret opened her eyes and panted heavily. "Yeah. You were amazing!"

~8~8~8~

Ruby sang softly to herself while she proficiently cleaned up the little corner of the cannery dubbed the lunchroom. It was really just a couple of rickety tables and a dozen fold out chairs separated from the rest of the warehouse by a few portable wall dividers, but it was the best they had.

Jefferson had managed to acquire a half decent fridge and a microwave older than most of the crew and she had contributed by finding a working coffee machine and mismatched mugs from a local yard sale.

It wasn't much, but it had sure started to feel like home.

She had never been the type to stay in one place for too long. She enjoyed the open road, the adventure of travelling and having only herself to worry about. It's all she's ever known in her adult life.

But if she was really honest with herself, she would admit that it was nice having a group of people around who cared for and looked after each other. Her pack of friends had somehow become her family along the way and for once, the thought didn't terrify her.

She was actually quite sad that the heist was tomorrow, because then everyone would go their separate ways and she would once again be a lone wolf.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

She jumped at the sound of the nervous voice coming from behind her. Turning around, she saw Archie standing at the corner of the partition twisting his lucky umbrella in his hands.

She smiled at his sudden appearance and flipped her hair over her shoulder playfully. "Is that all their worth?"

He chuckled softly. "I think you'd be amazed how much I'd pay to hear what you think."

"About what?" she asked, surprised.

"Anything and everything," he replied. "You are one of the most interesting people I've ever known."

Ruby felt her face grow uncomfortably hot. No one had ever cared about her thoughts or opinions, just what she saw and heard when she was on a job. "I was just thinking about how I've been alone too long. I'm going to miss you guys when this is done."

"I'm going to miss you too." Archie looked down at his feet and continued to fidget with his umbrella. "It's been good for me to be on my own, away from my parents. But it does get incredibly lonely sometimes."

"Yeah. It does."

She brushed her hand over her nose when something tickled her, then blinked repeatedly as dust began flying in her eyes. "What the Hell?"

"Ruby! Look out!" shouted Archie.

She felt more than saw Archie reach her and carefully sweep a thick layer of dust from her face. The ground began trembling beneath their feet as the old cannery rocked from the tremors. Debris fell all around them but it luckily seemed to miss them completely.

Looking up at Archie, she saw that he had opened his umbrella just as decades of dust began to rain down. He held unto her protectively as the world shook around them.

"That is seriously…wow!" she stammered. "Thanks, Archie."

"Don't mention it," he replied, his face turning the most delightful shade of red as he continued to brush more dust from her long hair.

The overhead lights flickered and died and they suddenly found themselves completely enshrouded in darkness. Feeling braver knowing that he couldn't see her face, she reached up on the tips of her toes and kissed his trembling lips.

~8~8~8~

"Is it in yet?" asked Jefferson, looking over his shoulder.

"God, I hate that question," grumbled August, readjusting the angle slightly so his tool would slide in more easily. "How's that?"

"Yeah," he grunted in reply. "Yeah, I think we're good."

"You're sure about this?"

"Just do it already! My arms are killing me!"

August circled around the old black van and jumped into the driver's seat. He carefully turned the ignition, crossing his toes for luck. The engine stalled at first but then quickly roared to life.

"We're good to go!" called Jefferson as he slammed the hood down and rubbed the circulation back into his aching arms. "That was harder than I expected."

They wiped their greasy hands clean on some rags and stood back to admire their handiwork. The cube-van was parked inside their headquarters, safely hidden from prying eyes, but close enough to the cannery's loading doors so as not to flood the warehouse with exhaust fumes. They had been working on the vehicle for hours now, trying to get it ready for Saturday night, and it looked like it was finally ready to go.

"Wait. I think something may be wrong with the engine," warned Jefferson, frowning. "Why's the van shaking like that?"

"What do I look like, a mechanic? My father was a carpenter. You should be grateful I knew how to change the spark plugs."

Suddenly it wasn't just the van that was rocking but the floor beneath them too. Dust and debris began to rain down on them from the old ceiling and Jefferson quickly jumped inside the back of the van for protection.

Feeling around in his pocket, he sighed in relief when he found that the picture of his late wife, Alice, holding a baby Grace in her arms was safe and unharmed. He held it against his heart protectively and looked around for his friend. "August! Where are you? Get in here!"

August had run to the opposite end of the warehouse, dodging falling broken boards of wood and decades of dirt. There was no exit in that direction so Jefferson had no idea what the idiot was up to.

When the tremors had finally stopped, the overhead fluorescent lights quickly dimmed then extinguished completely. Jefferson blindly made his way around to the driver's side door and flipped on the van's high beams. August shielded his eyes from the glaring lights while trying to carry a bulky box in his arms.

"Are you mad?" cried Jefferson once the other man reached the safety of the van. "You could have been killed! What were you thinking?"

"I had to save this." He nodded to the box and used a rag to lovingly wipe the dirt from it.

"What's in there that's worth dying over?" he asked warily. Knowing August it could be full of alcohol or maybe his collection of porn.

"My whole life," he whispered reverently. With a quick flick of his fingers the lock was unlatched and he pulled the top open.

Jefferson carefully leaned over and stared incredulously at the object laying inside. "Seriously? A typewriter?" He ran his hands over his face in exasperation and sighed. "You need a woman, Booth. Badly!"

~8~8~8~

Emma Swan walked down the second floor terrace that passed by the doors to all of the team member's motel rooms and tried not to let her frustration get the better of her. She needed to be calm, but firm, cool and collected. She needed to be the one in control.

She needed a drink. Badly.

Henry had snuck out of the room they shared and she had a sneaking suspicion of where he would be. Her son had grown quite attached to the members of the Gold family, something that she found both endearing and worrisome at the same time.

He still wasn't aware that Neal was his biological father and Henry had been sworn to secrecy about her being his birth mother. Still, of everyone he had gotten to know over the last three weeks, Neal seemed to be the one he had connected with the most.

It made sense. Neal was very immature for his age.

It was a warm and humid evening and while the curtains were drawn in all the rooms, several windows were left open to tempt a passing breeze. From the sounds of things in David's room, he and Mary Margaret had stepped their relationship up to the next level.

She was quite thankful that she had not been assigned the room next to his, although being next door to Granny was no picnic. Her snores were loud enough to wake all twelve of her dead husbands!

Neal's room was two more doors down and she knew before she reached it that Henry was inside. She could hear them talking excitedly through the open window over the sounds of the television.

She walked through the unlocked door and found her ten year old son dressed in his Avenger PJs and Hulk slippers, cuddled up next to her ex-boyfriend, who wore an Iron Man t-shirt.

"Hey Mom!" said Henry happily, munching on an enormous bowl of popcorn. "Are you here to watch the movie with us? Jefferson found a copy of Iron Man 3! It's not even in theaters yet!"

"You are supposed to be in bed, young man," she said sternly.

"Umm…technically I am in bed," replied Henry smugly.

"Sorry, Emma," said Neal sheepishly, nudging the boy playfully with his arm. "He told me you gave him permission to come over. This might be our last time hanging out together and I thought he would get a kick out the movie."

The fight immediately went out of Emma when she realized just how close the two had become. One late night wouldn't hurt him and if he saw that film now then she wouldn't have to take him to the theater when it officially came out.

"That popcorn had better be buttered," she said grudgingly as she moved across the room to claim the other side of the bed.

Neal and Henry both smiled brightly and moved over a bit to make room for her. She was about to plop herself into the bed when something hanging off the headboard caught her eye.

"Is that…our old dreamcatcher?"

His face flushed scarlet and he quickly stretched out to grab it. Emma was faster and reached it first. She turned it around in her hands, carefully touching the feathers that hung from it.

"It always reminded me of you," he said awkwardly, refusing to meet her eyes. "I couldn't bear to get rid it."

"Neal, I…" She didn't know what to say or even what to think. She was speechless and that was something that didn't happen often.

All of a sudden, the paintings on the wall against the bed began to shake and Emma rolled her eyes in disgust. "I really hope that's not Nolan and Blanchard."

"No," said Neal, rolling off the bed. "No, that's not Nolan."

The floors began to rock underneath them and she instinctively crouched to the floor to avoid falling over. Without another word, Neal scooped Henry up in his arms and ran to the bathroom doorway.

"Emma! Get under cover now!"

"What's happening?" cried Henry, holding onto Neal tightly.

"It's going to be okay, Henry," Emma said when she reached the doorway. Neal wrapped his other arm around her protectively and together they waited out the tremors.

~8~8~8~

Belle sat in the living area of her hotel suite and cringed.

Rambo had been killing Vietnamese soldiers for almost four hours now and she didn't know how much more blood she took take. First Blood had been bad enough, but then Gaston had put in First Blood II! She sighed in relief as the credits finally rolled across the flatscreen TV.

"Well, that was…interesting," she said as she stood up to stretch her legs. Danny had never been one to watch action movies. He had liked to spend his evenings curled up with a good book or a watching a documentary on the History channel.

That sounded like absolute Heaven right now!

"Don't go too far, sweetheart," said Gaston after taking another swig of beer. "I'm going to put the third one on in a few minutes."

"They made three of these?" she asked in disbelief.

"Four actually. Why? Would you rather switch to Rocky?"

She sat back down and picked up his hand. "Why don't we turn off the TV and do something else for a bit?"

"Yeah?" Gaston smiled enthusiastically. He scooted over on the couch and caressed her hair. Leaning in closer, he pressed his lips against hers and kissed her fiercely. His left hand wandered down her neck to the swell of her breasts.

"Gaston!" she cried, pushing him away. "That's not what I meant!"

"But I love you, Belle," he replied quickly, bringing her back in. "Let me show you how much."

She turned her head to the side to avoid his lips so he brought them to her neck instead. She squirmed uncomfortably at the contact. "If you truly loved me you would respect my wishes!"

Gaston growled low in his throat and released her. He stalked to the kitchenette, grabbed another can of beer and chugged it down. "I've been respecting you for months now. What about my needs? When are you going to start respecting me?"

"Why are you even with me?" she asked him suddenly. She had been wondering that for weeks now but hadn't had the guts to ask. Seeing her ex-husband again had brought back not just a decade of buried feelings but also a bit of her courage. "We obviously have nothing in common!"

He sighed heavily and came back around to face her. "Let's talk about this another time, okay? We were having a nice night until you had to go and ruin it. Now, I'll be nice and let you choose. Should we continue on with Rambo or switch to Rocky?"

She was about to suggest that he leave when the floor beneath her began to shake violently and frames fell off of shelves all around them. She instinctively reached out to Gaston to steady herself but he brushed her off and ran to the hide underneath the granite counter. The tremors knocked her to the ground and she covered her head with her arms to protect it from falling objects.

"What the Hell was that?" asked Gaston's muffled voice from the kitchen.

"I'm fine," Belle mumbled quietly to herself. "Thanks for asking."

The lights around them suddenly went out and the whole seaside town seemed to be plunged into instant darkness. Perfect.

Her only thought was of Danny and his injured leg. Had he gotten under cover in time? Was he even still in Storybrooke? She sincerely hoped that he was at least somewhere safe and unharmed.

~8~8~8~

"What's going on?" Neal asked as he, Emma and Henry arrived at the cannery. They had received word that the team needed to assemble immediately for an emergency meeting but no one knew who had called the meeting or what it was about.

"Your guess is as good as mine, son," replied Gold tiredly. "I thought maybe you had called it."

Power was out all over the city so they now stood amidst the blaring lights of several cars parked on the wharf. Neal attempted to do a head count but it was too difficult to see among all the shadows.

"Was anyone hurt in the earthquake?" Emma called out, keeping Henry close by.

"Is anyone missing?" added Mary Margaret.

"What the hell is that smell?" asked August suddenly.

Jefferson covered his face with his cravat. "Whatever it is it's overpowering the stink of rotten fish."

"It smells like a dirty toilet," said Henry as he waved his hand in front of his nose.

"It's me," roared Leroy. He stalked towards the group, the stench growing stronger with every step. His entire body was covered head to do in what appeared to be raw sewage.

"Yeah. We're in deep shit!"