"I thought you might appreciate a case where you didn't have to consult with the guys," David told her, the dark under his eyes even more evident under the florescent lights. "It's a missing persons case, but honestly I don't suspect foul play."

Emma sat there in the hard chair, mulling over his statement as if there was some hidden meaning behind it. David had not been in the office all that much, relegating to emailing their assignments in shortened sentences and telling them that he was busy or dealing with personal matters instead of being there in front of them. If she looked at his desk, she might have seen the fine layer of dust that had accumulated with lack of use. He was clearly avoiding the questions that hung silently in the air.

"Her parents declared her missing?" Emma asked, scanning the yellow legal pad that he had made notes on his phone call. The chicken scratch handwriting was hard to read, but she was used to it.

"Sister," he corrected from memory. "A woman named Elsa. She said that her sister and her sister's fiancé have been missing for more than a week. She had hoped that they might have just run off to elope, but that is looking less likely. No notes. No ransom demands and no contact with her sister." His hands were at his hips, his classic pose of authority. "Elsa seems like a piece of work. She's uptight and demanding, but you can tell she loves her sister."

"I guess I'll pay this Elsa a visit then," Emma said, closing the pages of the legal pad and extracting herself from the seat. "Sounds like if she's that uptight and demanding that this sister of hers might have run off to get away from her for a while."

"Don't judge too quickly," he warned, shoulders slumping forward a bit. "And I guess I owe you a thank you. I know that the rumors are pretty bad right now. I assure you that I did not take that money. I would never…"

"Never thought you would," Emma interrupted, tapping her pen on the legal pad. "I know you didn't have anything to do with that. I just hope they find who did before any more names get dragged through the mud. You don't think it will hurt you in the election, do you?"

David nodded, knowing that she was nervous about her own past coming into play. "My father is strategizing day and night to prevent that from happening. He thinks it might help to deflect some of the attention somehow."

Swallowing, she considered that advice. "He knows about my past, doesn't he?" she asked softly. "If people know that, they will think that I had something to do with it."

"My father wouldn't throw you under the bus like that," David said hastily. "The man's a jerk and probably one of the most calculating people, but he's not…he just wouldn't. I wouldn't let him. That whole thing was a mistake. If it was to come out, we'd have to confront the whole Neal issue, which means bringing out the big guns of Mr. Gold. I seriously doubt my father is cocky enough to think that would be a good idea."

"God, I must sound horrible. This isn't all about me. What is he suggesting as this diversion?" She bit her lip, knowing that the next article in the Mirror would probably be even worse. Sidney had been asking a lot of questions, including of people who were normally in the know.

David sighed, his eyes darting downward. "I had asked about my grandmother's ring for Mary Margaret. I thought the gesture would be something she could appreciate until we chose something together. He wants to turn it into a public relations event. He suggested holding a press conference to announce my fighting these allegations and proposing to her during that." He frowned. "Sort of cheapens it, doesn't it?"

"I'd say." David rarely asked for advice from her, seeming to usually have it together. "I guess we all consider it a given that you two are going to end up together, but seriously. You can't use it for publicity though. I mean it is a marriage proposal not a staged event." She knew that Mary Margaret would be crushed if he did that.

"I wouldn't do it just to get positive news out there," he said disdainfully. "I would never hurt her that way. I love Mary Margaret and have spent our entire relationship trying to prove to her that I do and keep her protected from my father. I can't even believe he'd suggest this."

Emma frowned, the pad of paper warping under her grip. "Maybe it's time that you put a little distance between you and your father. I know you rely on him about all this campaign stuff, but he doesn't actually respect you. You could do this without him." David said nothing and Emma sighed in response to his silence. "I've overstepped. I'm sorry. You know I'm the last one you want to ask about parent child relationships. I just know that Mary Margaret wants the fairy tale, which doesn't include cameras, reporters, and press releases."

His smile seemed relieved. "You're right," he agreed. "Mary Margaret deserves more than that. I'm going to make sure that my proposal to her will be everything she wants and more." He motioned his hand to shoo her from the office. "You're turning into a romantic there, Emma. People are going to talk."

She wrinkled her nose. "No, I'm not."

His head tilted sideways as if he was trying to view her from a different angle. "I think you are," he protested. "You're different. I think it might be this thing with Killian."

Rolling her eyes, she turned on her heel and marched to the door. "Don't be spreading rumors about me," she said. "I won't like it."

***AAA***

"You're young," the platinum blonde haired woman said with her discerning eyes narrowing to inspect Emma. "Have you ever done something like this before?"

"I'm quite adept at finding people," Emma insisted, sitting in the large and formal living room where Elsa's assistant had led her. "It's a talent."

Elsa hummed her response as she added a bit of sugar to her tea and stirred it meticulously. "I'm not quite sure I buy that, but I'm desperate. This isn't like Anna at all. Yes, she's impulsive and lacks judgment, but she's never been known to just run off."

The room was ornately decorated with antiques and items that were clearly authentic from the Scandinavian regions. Plush rugs sat under velvety chairs and settees. Artwork depicting generations of the family hung from the walls over rich wallpaper. A fire blazed in the fireplace and gave both warmth and glow to the whole room. A polished silver service had been placed on etched tray and sat between the two women on a tufted ottoman.

"When was the last time you saw her?" Emma tried to ignore the fact that Elsa had already insulted her age and experience twice. The two women were the same age though Elsa seemed a bit removed from the normal chaos of the late 20s. "Was there anything that stood out as unusual?"

"She was in good spirits," Elsa mused, sipping delicately on her tea and settling the cup back in its saucer before speaking again. "I saw her at the dedication to the new art gallery wing that was named in memory of our parents. We didn't have much time to talk between the speeches, photo ops, interviews, and having to talk with each of the donors and friends of our parents."

"So nothing stood out? How was she with her fiancé? Were they getting along?"

Elsa's pinched expression was the same as one of the women in the portrait over the fireplace. When she had caught Emma admiring it earlier, she had commented that it was of her mother and two aunts. The family resemblance was uncanny.

"I suppose so," Elsa said. "Kris is a bit of a brute in so many ways. He's not really…he's a bit beneath her, but he loves her dearly. He's one of the few good decisions my sister has made in her life." She laughed. "I can't imagine that he would encourage her to run away when she has responsibilities here."

"Responsibilities?" Emma parroted, looking back at her notepad for any sign of what those might be since it appeared that Elsa was clearly the woman in charge. The girls were the only heirs and daughters of their parents who had owned and operated ski resorts throughout the world. While it seemed a bit frivolous, Emma could recognize that Elsa took the job quite seriously and had bought her sister's shares of most of the business interests. As the woman had said herself, she liked to be in charge.

"My sister might not have a head for business, but she helps to run the charitable arm of our business. Both an environmental foundation and one dedicated to animals. In addition, she sits on many of the boards that our mother used to in her free time." Elsa frowned. "I suppose that sounds very pretentious to someone like you, but charity is very important to our family. We make sure to give back in every way we can."

Emma nodded her head thoughtfully. "It seems that you have quite a few employees. Is it possible that one of them might have done something because of a labor dispute?" She looked at the list of employees that Elsa had gestured to earlier. It was a thick pile of papers that was single spaced and far too long to make heads or tails of without long hours of research. "Anyone you can think of?"

"The employees of my company are not the types who would do that," she spat as if the thought had never occurred to her. They are loyal, kind, and hardworking. When I decided to form search teams for my sister I gave each employee both corporate and service the choice. They could search for her or they could take the time off at home. Either way, they got paid. Not one of them went home. They have all been part of the efforts to bring Anna and Kris home. So Ms. Swan, I suggest you look elsewhere to find your suspects. Because the hands of this family and this company are clean."

***AAA***

Three days later on Halloween, she stood on the front stoop of Killian's rental with the orange plastic bucket over her wrist and her other hand banging on the door in short knocks. Waiting on him to answer, she shifted her weight and formed her mouth into a happy smile that he would see first thing. She didn't have to wait long, as the door flew open and his laugh rang out with her words, "trick or treat."

"I thought you said you were too old for a costume," he challenged, grabbing her hand and pulling her into the foyer. "You're adorable."

She wore a simple black turtleneck and a headband with a pair of pointed ears like a cat. Her face was painted with black lines to indicate whiskers and the tip of her nose was black. It was broad daylight and she worried that someone might see her, but the idea of surprising him with a playful side was too much for the deputy.

Killian's home was not nearly as monochromatic or sterile as Emma had imagined, but she had not seen much of it. From her vantage point, she could honestly say that the wall behind her was solid and the carpet a plush pile that would probably let her feet sink into the softness when they were bare. It was hard to notice much else as her eyes were closed and her other senses were busy with the way he was kissing her there inside the foyer.

"I thought we were going to watch a movie," she managed to say as he ran the tip of his tongue along the cords of her neck and his large hand palmed the roundness of her breast. "You promised I could pick."

"Later," he muttered against her skin. "I'm busy," His other hand was yanking at the shirt she wore and had tucked into her jeans, fingers digging to find the skin that was still covered in fabric.

"Killian," she said in a breathy sigh. "I thought we were going to…" The palms of her hands were flat on his chest as she gave him a little shove that seemed not to deter him.

"We haven't seen each other since Sunday," he groaned, sounding very much like a petulant child. The groan became more growl like as she pushed him again. "You are going to be the death of me, love." He pulled back, his skin flushed and breathing already sharp.

She laughed, curling her fingers into the flannel fabric of his shirt. "It doesn't have to be all or nothing. I just would prefer not to have my first visit to your apartment only include the foyer because we couldn't…"

"Control ourselves?" he finished for her. His eyes flashed mischievously as he pulled her back to him and hovered his mouth over hers. Her lips parted in anticipation, soaking in the warm breath that he emitted. However, with a quick jerk upward, his lips planted a kiss at the tip of her nose and then backed away. "I could go for a bite of something." He turned away to head to the stainless steel appliances of his kitchen. "Hungry, love?"

It was her turn to groan unappreciatively and reluctantly follow him on a quick tour of the two bedroom apartment that seemed to her to be comfortable and much more spacious than her own. She was not even sure why he seemed content in spending time at her place when he had so much better space and accommodations. She asked him such and got an answer that it was the hostess that kept him coming back.

However, true to his word, he found them some refreshments that she noshed on while he scoured the channels on television. She was tucked into his side as they scanned the offerings and found nothing that seemed to distract them. "You planned this," she accused, her lips pouting. "You invited me over to watch whatever I want when there is nothing to watch." She stretched the best she could, her toes pointing and muscles tightening as she tried not to think about the 30 boxes of records in her work area

"It's not my fault there is nothing on the telly, love," he shot back indignantly, but his smirk indicating more enjoyment than anger. "And you can't honestly think I only wanted you here for watching a movie." He tossed the remote control onto the cushion beside him, turning his upper body to face her. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too," she admitted, blinking as her eyes glazed over in her fatigue. "It's been a long week." She had spent most of it working, the consistency of it taking her mind off the pressure that seemed be reaching new levels in the office. Every place she had gone there were questions about David, the missing money, and Graham's knowledge of the finances. She had brushed all of them off, feigning little interest in what she referred to as idle gossip.

David's demeanor was stiff from the constant worry about the situation. He and Mary Margaret had spent most of the time holed up in one or the other's apartments and not answering the phones. Apparently, Emma had learned, Mr. Nolan was furious and had assembled a crisis communication team and lawyers to discuss strategy. Combined with a string of break ins along the busy shops in town, Emma had felt herself grow tired and cranky with the schedule. Eying Killian carefully, Emma realized that he looked just as tired as she felt. His stifled yawn proved her point.

"We could take a nap," she suggested, finding a comfortable position with his arm about her and her head on his shoulder. "Everything will be easier with some sleep."

His chuckle rang out in the room, echoing a bit. "When I anticipated seeing you and having you here, I did not imagine napping to be a part of the itinerary. I imagined doing much more enjoyable things with you." His cheek rested against the top of her head and his free hand laced with one of hers.

"They'll be more enjoyable if we are not yawning," Emma declared. "And I think you probably imagined getting me into your bed any way that you could." She raised her eyebrows. "So, come on sailor. Take me to bed."

"For a nap?" he asked, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of it. "May I at least carry you?" He didn't wait for her response, sweeping her up into his arms bridal style and dropping one more kiss on her lips before shucking her off into the bedroom to the sound of her squeals and laughter.

He was tired himself, though he hated to admit as much to her after their time apart with their busy work schedules. And the thoughts he'd had of her in his bed had not included the idea of napping and slumbering as anything but recovery. However, he was enamored enough to appreciate the view of her between the sheets that held him each night and her beckoning eyes and mouth as he divested himself of everything but his boxers to join her. As much as he might have wanted to make love to her there and then, he held back and let her curl into his embrace with a soft sigh and whispered wish for sweet dreams. Only a few minutes later he was finding his own mind spiraling into the abyss of dreams of rest.

About two hours later it was Emma who woke first. It had still been daylight when she arrived at his apartment, the sun shining through the dipping temperatures and falling leaves that indicated not only had autumn arrived but winter was not far behind. So when she woke up in the softly worn sheets with a blanket and his warm body keeping her from feeling the chill in the air, she was surprised to see the muted colors of the room without the blaze of the sun that had begun to set.

His grip was present but slight with this arm about her waist and the tickle of his stubble on her shoulder. She still felt the slight jolt of waking up in someone's arms, the familiarity and simple intimacy of it seeming to take over even her most pessimistic moments. There was something comforting and yet strangely ominous about how quickly they felt comfortable.

"Quit wiggling," he muttered as she tried to readjust her position. "I was having a lovely dream about a blonde woman in my bed."

She rested her arm over his, her fingers smoothing the back of his hand. "I was thinking it might be time to wake up," she suggested, her voice thick from the sleep-laden afternoon they had spent. "If we're not going to the costume party, you're going to have trick-or-treaters soon. You did buy candy, didn't you?"

"Aye," he mumbled. "Bloody waste of money and time. Children begging for candy that will rot their teeth."

Her gentle caress turned into a slap to his hand and a laugh. "You sound like an old man. How old are you? 300?"

"This old man has better things to do than hand out treats to children I don't know. Perhaps we could leave them on the stoop and let them…"

"They'd be gone in five minutes and then some kid who didn't get anything will egg your place." She arched backwards into his chest. "You don't want that, do you?"

"It depends," he said, his mouth close to her ear. "I should think you could distract me from any worry about property damage. We've already been postponed from my plans by your desire to take a nap. Don't tell me we have to wait longer." His mouth ran along the curve of her neck, his own body hardening against her. He felt like a teenage boy desperate for her attention, but he swore he wouldn't be that guy. He wouldn't push her or use her without regard, but he knew she wanted this physical side of things too.

She grasped the hand that was there where the t-shirt she had borrowed from him had ridden up over her hips. Guiding it upward under the soft material, she pressed his hand to her skin between her breasts – dragging it in circles under each globe. He hummed with delight. "I guess we could ignore the first few knocks," she said turning her head to meet his mouth. "I can't hear the door from here. How about you?" Sloppy and a bit awkward, their kisses only served to create more of a fevered pitch between them.

"I don't hear a thing," he muttered, rolling her to her back and not removing his hand from her guided grip. Her hopeful smile and hitched breath almost did him in as he positioned himself over her, dipping down to kiss those same lips again and push even more at the fabric of the shirt he had loaned her. He wasn't sure he would ever be able to wear it again, as it looked far better with its faded emblem from some band and the frayed neck from too many washings. Separated from the only article of clothing she wore except for the lace panties that he had told her were quite becoming and what he now always would imagine when he thought of her, his mouth moved from her lips to encircle one hardening nipple as his fingertips teased the other.

She keened under his attention, her head swiveling on the pillow and one hand burying itself in his hair as she held him to her. When he paused momentarily to look up at her, she smiled at him again. "I think I really like your mouth," she commented between breaths. He demonstrated a bit more of why she would say such a thing before looking back to her.

The apples of his cheeks rose to nearly the level of his eyes as he smiled. "And I think I really like the taste of you," he said. "So sweet and addicting." Scooting downward, he hooked his fingers through the lace of the pale green panties and pulled downward, revealing the glistening folds he had been thinking about more than he cared to admit.

She whimpered a bit as his fingered tested and probed, impatience evident in her eyes and the sounds coming from her mouth. He dragged a finger over her, reveling in the way her legs fell even more open with want of him. She was becoming more impatient, which seemed to spur him on more despite the ache between his own legs. He lifted her right leg and ran his mouth up the length of it, teasing and dipping along the curve of it and stopping briefly in spots only to annoy her and frustrate her. But it was all meant as a study of her, learning the quirks and tricks that seemed to make her tick. He silently celebrated each one, memorizing the sounds she made and the way his attention could illicit such reactions.

"Killian," she whimpered, her voice going higher on the last syllable. She was afraid he was going to keep this torture up, skipping over where she wanted him most to do the same ritual to her other leg. "Killian, I swear if you…"

He chuckled, amused that she could be so humorously demanding even in such a moment. Taking pity on her, his mouth found its way to her glistening mound to her frustration turned delight. Without too much more teasing, his mouth worked at her until the frenzy that had become her state exploded around her and left her calling out his name.

Her muscles that had been so tight turned to jelly as she sank backward with a few incoherent words flying out. "You're pretty pleased with yourself, aren't you?" she asked, her arm falling back onto the bed with her as she lost contact with the back his head.

"I think you're quite pleased with me too," he teased, running his tongue over his lips as he looked toward her with lust still evident in his eyes.

Shakily, her arms raised up to pull him down to her, kissing him. When they broke for air she could see the desire she had for him mirrored in his own dark expression. Loosening her grip on his back and shoulders, she slid her hands down to the waist of his boxers, one hand reaching his length and running long fingers over him. Stroking him, her own smile grew with each moan he made.

She repositioned them so that she was the one hovering over him. Her mouth closed over him to the echoing sound of his hiss at both the sensation and realization of that moment. He stilled for a moment before continuing his own exploration and teasing of her body, unwilling to be the only one on the receiving end. However, her own determination seemed more forceful as she continued her ministrations.

His breath was shaky as he told her that he did not intend to ask to bring him to completion in such a way. "As lovely as that would be, I'd prefer to be inside you," he said, making her marvel that somehow his vocabulary didn't disappear with any situation.

Her lips pouted outward as she looked to be considering her options, then smiled as she pretended to relent. "I'm going to get my way eventually," she said. "I want to hear you lose control like you've heard me."

"I doubt I would be as lovely," he said before capturing her lips again. Their mouths stayed fused and hands roamed before his length slid into her. Her eyes that had been half closed opened as he did, smiling a tight-lipped grin back at him as their bodies again found the rhythm that they both craved.

She marveled again at how each time with him seemed to be like a new discovery of what could only be considered a fated union. There were no designs in her mind that he was just good enough or somehow a distraction. While she could not and would not say the words aloud, she was sure that whatever it was between them was if not permanent, then life altering in a way that she would never be the same without him. And as scary as that was for a woman who feared the words "for the rest of my life," she was trying her best to accept herself as worthy of him.

She could never grow tired of the way he touched her so reverently and delicately even as his hips thrust toward her with a fevered pitch. The juxtaposition of his movements to his caresses and the way he whispered her name was enough to drive her mad. Add to it the way he would tell her of his desire for her and she was only seconds away from a padded room by her own estimation.

He was just as enamored with her reactions, the way her eyes fluttered if he touched the right spot or the way her breathing told of her climax before it actually broke. He adored the soft pinkness of her skin as she succumbed to his attention, as did he love the taste of her skin and most intimate areas as she sank into her oblivion. There was something about the way she clenched about him, her walls both tugging and embracing his length as they both sought completion.

She lost the climb first, his name falling from her lips in the most erotic of ways. Head thrown back, he used the better angle to run his mouth along the column of her throat and back down to the breasts that he swore called to him even when she was not there. She whimpered and writhed beneath him, almost sending him over the edge as she arched back and gave him even better access. He muttered a few curses and praises across her pebbled skin. His hand sought her out between them, his fingers finding sensitive areas that would continue to please her as her body still quivered around him.

He was prolonging things as long as he could, but when her second climax hit, he was soon to follow. Her moans and mewls of appreciation and satisfaction mingled with his own as he spilled deep inside her. He only held himself there on her for a moment before rolling them to their sides and brushing back her hair in a tender move that seemed to contradict their previous acts.

"You'll do anything to keep from handing out candy," she laughed. "I think you might have a sweet tooth."

"Indeed," he chuckled back. "I hate to say it, but perhaps we are due another nap."

"Old man," she hissed back at him, giggling as he mockingly assaulted her with a kiss.