Chapter One: Dream Warning
'Emma' a soft voice, almost so quiet as to be missed, breathes in her ear, stirring her from restless sleep. 'Emma, you have to wake up! Please…you need to go!'
Emma jerks awake with a start, gasping for breath as she sits bolt upright in bed. Henry sleeps on beside her, completely lost to the world in slumber – for which she is glad. She, however, is wide awake, even with just barely two hours' sleep. The clock on the nightstand flashes 1:59 a.m., and all is still but the loud hum of the room's substandard air conditioning. Images flash through her mind, one after another coming back to her. She had been in that room, seen Graham struggling in the hold of Greg and James, but this time she had been facing him, seen his warm, gentle eyes widen just before the fatal shot, had seen her name form on his lips in silent farewell. Then, there had been a petite, dark-haired woman leaning over her, heart-shaped face sweet with sincere concern as she leaned to place a warning in her ear. Now awake, Emma is left with merely that snapshot of care and the echo of the woman's words. All she knows is that she needs to get up, and they need to move. For whatever reason, she's been given a sign and they aren't safe anymore.
She stands, throws her jacket back on, pulls on her boots, and then comes around the bed, gently shaking Henry's shoulder to rouse him. He mumbles grumpily, a wrinkle appearing between his eyes, and curls tighter away from her. "We've got to go, Henry," she urges, picking him up without any further hesitation. "I know you're still sleepy, but we can't stay here." She picks up his shoes as well, takes a last glance around their room to make sure they've left nothing behind. Quickly, she grabs Henry's book from the pillow and stuffs it in her purse.
Emma sneaks out of the lobby silently, not seeing anyone, even a clerk on duty. She doesn't know where to go next, and worries her bottom lip between her teeth as she glances around debating. 'To the police,' she answers herself with a decisive nod, moving to the street and hoping to hail a cab. 'It's not safe for us anywhere else.'
Luckily, a taxi pulls up before she has to stand in the open for long, and she bends to scoot into the backseat, still cradling Henry against her chest protectively. "I need to go to the nearest police station – quickly, please," Emma tells the cabbie when he looks back to meet her eyes in the rearview mirror.
"Right you are, little lady," the man answers brightly, taking off and giving her a friendly smile that does reassure her a bit.
They ride in companionable silence for a few minutes, Emma stroking Henry's hair and praying she's making the right move. It isn't until their driver clears his throat nervously and attempts to catch her evasive gaze in the mirror that she is snapped back to her present company. "If you don't mind me saying Miss, you and your boy look plumb worn out. I hope the trouble you need the police for isn't serious…" He lets his words trail off leadingly, and while Emma appreciates what seems to be genuine concern, she can tell the man is also curious and fishing for details. She can't chance it. She doesn't know how far Spencer's net of connections goes, or how many underlings he has that she hasn't seen and wouldn't recognize.
"We'll be fine once we reach the authorities," she replies, trying to sound confident. Her "I hope" is added under her breath.
The cabbie nods kindly, offering only an, "I'm sure you're right," and returning his eyes to the road. A few minutes later, they stop in front of a precinct building. Emma pays him and watches the taxi slide back into traffic, then turns, wrangling her duffle, purse, and Henry once more, through the main entrance. When she reaches the front office, a desk sergeant looks up questioningly, beckoning her forward. "May I help you, Miss?" he asks.
"Yes, I, um…" Emma fidgets, not sure how to blurt out what she's witnessed. This is simply the only place she can think of to go for safety. "I witnessed a murder," she finally forces herself to say, swallowing hard and hoping that Henry will stay asleep through this.
The officer's eyes widen slightly and the helpful smile falls from his face; his whole aspect turning serious and concerned. "Are you alright?" he questions, coming from behind the desk to usher her forward, a gentle hand going around to guide her.
"I- I'm fine…considering," Emma says with a half-hearted and shaky smile, then follows the shorter, portly man as he leads her into a small, quiet office and helps her stretch Henry out to lie more comfortably on a short couch along the wall.
"Just let me find a detective, or the Captain, and we'll take your statement shortly," the office assures her. "Don't worry, Miss. You're safe here."
Emma nods, sinking into the chair placed before the simple desk, lacing her fingers together nervously, her knee bouncing with tension. The adrenaline from her disquieting dream still hasn't faded. She should be exhausted, and yet she can barely sit still. Her history with the police isn't one to put her at ease either, but necessity is forcing her hand.
They don't keep her waiting long. Soon, another officer – from the look of him, a higher-ranking one – enters, shakes her hand, thanks her for coming, and takes his seat behind the desk, facing her. Without much prompting, Emma tells her story, glancing aside only to see that Henry is still asleep. When she finishes, the officer leans forward, elbows on the desk and hands steepled at his forehead. "I'm glad you came to us, Ms. Swan," he states, his grave calm helping to ground her. "Of course we intend to do everything we can to bring the perpetrators to justice. However, there are some things you need to know, and we need you to stay here until reinforcements arrive. It wouldn't be wise for you to leave now, unprotected. What you have witnessed is part of a much bigger string of events. You should also be aware that there are FBI agents on the way to meet you."
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"Hey, Kil," Agent Ruby Lucas sticks her head in the doorway of her partner's office, pulling his attention from the early morning memos and e-mails at his desk. "David wants to see us in five," she adds once he looks up at her. "He seemed tense, must be big."
She gives him an intrigued sort of grin and wink, takes a big bite out of her customary Krispy Kreme breakfast, and disappears down the hall, probably to her own office for a moment. FBI Special Agent Killian Jones sighs, swiping a hand through his unruly dark hair, pushes his desk chair back, and straightens, stretching his arms over his head to work the kinks from his neck. He came in early, focused on clearing some of the backlogged paperwork off his desk, and he's stiff from uninterrupted hours of tediousness. He isn't done, but he's made progress, and there is nothing left which can't wait until he and Ruby take care of whatever their supervisor has for them. Standing, Killian switches off his computer, knowing they often head out right after a briefing. He grabs his "go bag" sitting on the extra chair by the door and heads down the hall to Supervisory Special Agent Nolan's office.
Ruby steps out of her neighboring office as he passes, her long, leggy frame easily allowing her to match his pace and fall into stride with him. She looks sidelong at her partner with a mischievous grin, "Geesh, Kil, how long have you been here already?" she asks, pretending to tease, though her true concern shows beneath the words. "Did you even go home? You look like you've put in a whole day's work already, and we're just getting started."
"What's it to you, Lucas?" he smirks, glancing at her from the corner of his twinkling eyes, not one to let her poke at him without tossing some snark right back.
She shrugs, nudging him playfully with her elbow, to let him know not to take her next remark seriously. "Nothing to me, Jones. I just don't wanna take a bullet out there because my partner should have had my back but fell asleep on the job."
He slings an arm over her shoulders companionably, tugging on a lock of her long, brown hair, knowing it annoys her. "Never fear, Darling," he tosses back flippantly. "I am always a gentleman. Can't have a lady getting hurt on my watch."
She snorts inelegantly, shrugs out from under his arm, and shoves him away with an unimpressed "Please!" whose bite is ruined by her snicker halfway through.
By then, they have reached the doorway of Agent Nolan's office, and hearing them coming, he looks up, beckoning them in. "Morning," he greets simply, indicating the two chairs before his desk so they can get underway. "Here's what we have."
Killian and Ruby do as requested, a curious glance passing between them at David's manner. The man is an excellent unit chief: fair, honorable, professional, decisive, but he is usually not so blunt and to-the-point. Killian immediately finds himself agreeing with Ruby's assessment that whatever they are about to hear must be huge.
He isn't kept wondering for long. "Las Vegas PD had a young woman and her five-year-old son turn up in their lobby at three o'clock this morning, looking exhausted, scared, and overall a good bit worse for wear. On sight, the desk sergeant assumed domestic disturbance of some sort, until she informed him she was there to report a murder. That got his attention, and he found the chief of detectives to get her full statement. The story that came out led him to get us involved…" David pauses at this point, passing case files to both his agents and letting them open the manila folders to peruse the pictures and basic information within. Once they silently begin to do so, he continues. "Emma Swan and her little boy, Henry. Native of someplace called Storybrooke, Maine. Abandoned as an infant. Bounced around foster homes until she was 17, then she ran away just before she aged out of the system. She turned up in Portland, Oregon, where she was arrested for possession of stolen goods – partner left her holding. Served eleven months in a minimum security prison in Phoenix. She came out of that with the kid, seems she went in pregnant. The kid was in foster care the last couple months of her sentence. Don't know how she got custody again when she didn't appear to have a thing to her name. The boy's father is unknown. From there, she apparently ended up in Vegas, working as head of security at The Kingdom casino…"
David is just giving them the highlights, and Killian is skimming over the file before him, half-listening, until his superior's last words snap him to attention, ice blue eyes suddenly more reminiscent of the hottest flames than any form of water. Ruby glances across at Killian anxiously, knowing her partner well. Shooting him a look that warns him to keep his cool, she is the one to clear her throat and ask Agent Nolan. "This is the same Kingdom owned and operated by George Spencer, and a branch of the Gold-Mills crime syndicate in Boston?"
David nods tersely, pausing in the litany of facts he has been reciting to study his two best field agents closely. He knows it has to be these two. The moment this case came across his desk an hour ago, he'd known they couldn't afford to send anyone less accomplished, but that doesn't mean he has to like it. Agent Killian Jones is smart, intuitive, and fearless; Jones can read both subjects and situations like open pages in a book. However, he is driven by emotion, and his own personal history with the Gold-Mills ring makes him both volatile and vulnerable. Agent Ruby Lucas is more practical and less obsessively driven – resourceful, gutsy – but she is younger than Jones and fiercely loyal to her partner; she would run right after him onto a sinking ship, even if it was the wrong call.
Still, this case is too big, too important, to trust to anyone else. This syndicate has slipped through the Bureau's fingers for too long, and has their hands in a bit of everything: illegal gambling, money laundering, extortion, kidnapping, assault, and murder. They have gotten away with their dark deeds much too easily, and he wants his best on the ground with this one, making sure the string of atrocities stops. Plus, he can't in good conscience keep Killian from this, no matter how much his gut warns him otherwise. The man has lost too much to these thugs and their boss, and he deserves his chance to see justice done. David Nolan can only console himself with the reminder that it is better Jones be involved officially and held to Bureau guidelines than go rogue and involve himself anyway – which he would do – and take no restrictions into account.
Killian's eyes meet his with a simmering rage that almost makes David reconsider his decision. "And just why does a woman who is probably the girlfriend or mistress of one of Spencer's thugs and works for the evil prat merit our trust or concern?" he seethes quietly. His words are controlled, but his voice snaps out the words in a way that makes his Irish brogue sound more cold and brittle than either of his co-workers has ever heard it.
David leans forward, elbows on the desktop, staring straight back at his agent, reminding Jones just who calls the shots, and spells it out clearly. "Because she is willing to testify. There is no proof that she was ever involved in any of the criminal proceedings on the side, and because she walked out of Spencer's employ and onto his hit list last night when she saw her boss put a bullet in her boyfriend's head. Her boyfriend didn't just work for Spencer. He was a CI for the Vegas PD, providing intel on a separate case they were building against him out there. The guy was a low level employee, just hoping to make a fresh start and a better life for the two of them and her boy, and he ended up paying with his life."
The two men stare at each other silently for a moment, both tense and stubborn, while Ruby glances nervously between them. Finally, Killian breaks the face-off, looking down at his hands for a moment, before quietly conceding, "Aye, Mate, you're right. That does seem enough to turn her firmly to our side."
"Alright then," David nods, standing up along with Jones and Lucas. "We need you out there ASAP. Get yourselves ready, read over the files on the plane, wheels up in twenty."
Both agents turn to leave, but David calls Jones back for a moment. "Killian," he warns, holding the other man's stare and speaking with deadly seriousness. "I know you want to nail this whole group more than anybody. It's understandable even. But I need you at the top of your game. Do not let the past compromise your ability to do your job, or you're out. Got it?"
"Yes sir," Killian replies, tone clipped, but gaze steady as he agrees to his supervisor's terms. He is out the door and beyond David's hearing before he mutters, "Unless it can't be helped."