"Get your boots off my conference table, you godless heathen."

Killian smirked as both Robin and Will scrambled to put their feet on the floor.

"Two rude-ass birds, one stone."

Settling in the chair at the head of the table, Killian made a show of shuffling the files in front of him on the table, lining up his notebook and pen and propping his own booted feet on the table.

Will spoke around the Pop-Tart in his mouth: "You see this shit, Archer? Do as I say, not as I do."

Robin nodded in the affirmative before turning slightly toward Killian and shaking his head no, an exaggerated frown on his face.

"Once you have these, Will," Killian tapped imaginary Captain's bars on his shoulder, "You can put whatever body part you want wherever the hell you want."

"And that, friends, is the story of how Captain Killian Jones became responsible by association for glory holes in the bathrooms here at the precinct," Robin chortled.

Killian cleared his throat and sat straight as the rest of the task force filed in, Zelena on their heels.

The loss of Gold at the top of Dreamshade's food chain wasn't as monumental hit to the organization as they'd hoped, nor was Felix's untimely death or the

incarceration of Peter. In a tribute to Rogers, Bangor PD's fallen officer and Captain America fan, the white board for the task force had been reorganized into a Hydra logo of sorts with headshots of key members at the ends of elaborately drawn tentacles. Months of investigation and undercover work had revealed a much more complicated hierarchy within Dreamshade than originally thought, and it appeared Gold, Pan and Felix were not the first, second and third in a short line of senior members dictating the operation.

The most startling revelation was that there was one high-ranking member between Gold and Peter who was still attempting to carry on business as usual. They were represented by a blank sheet of paper with a large question mark next to the photos of Peter, Felix and Gold, the two latter of whom had a red "x" over their faces.

"Zelena, how's the tap on Peter going?" Killian gestured to his tech guru and sat, steepling his fingers and waiting as she gathered her laptop, making her way to the front of the room to connect it to projection wiring.

"Thanks, Captain. The cellblock plant was a bust. Peter is far too savvy to give anything up to some random schmo in an orange jumpsuit. Our C.I. has nothing to report, either from rooming with Peter or lurking in the common areas."

Dejected mumbles went around the room.

"He said our boy keeps to himself and is, I quote, 'scary as fuck, lady, so nobody messes with him.' We'll keep the C.I. in place for another month or so to not arouse suspicion."

"Shit. Okay, that was a long shot and at least we tried. Make sure the C.I. gets some extra commissary funds when he gets back to city lockup." Killian wasn't surprised Peter was both exiling himself from gen pop and turning up the silent intimidation. Twirling in his chair, he addressed the group. "It doesn't seem like these assholes are trying to recruit from inside. Which is smart on their part and fucking irritating for us. That means no loose lips. If anything, they're likely to be tightening the ranks and keeping everyone in line. No rogues, nobody going off script."

Heads nodded and Killian gestured for Zelena to keep going.

"At first glance, the phone taps appear to be a bust. Peter doesn't call anyone, save for a law office. We have eyes and ears on the attorney with the assumption nobody represents the likes of Dreamshade without being suspect himself. Robin and Will have been doing surveillance."

"So far nothing, Cap." Robin stood to report. "He works, he goes home. His wife is in pharmaceutical sales and travels a lot. When we manage to get a pic, we'll put it on the board next to his. No kids." He sat again without looking, jumping as fingers dug into his ass; Will had snuck his hand palm up onto his chair while he was speaking.

The room erupted in laughter. He may not run the most conventional of units but Killian understood the benefit of blowing off steam when the hours were long and the leads were few.

Zelena sighed heavily, the wicked twinkle in her eye the only sign she wasn't truly exasperated with her punchy audience, and waited until the commotion died down.

"Now this is where it gets interesting." All ears perked up in her direction, including Killian's. Interesting in Zelena-speak meant she had something.

"Written correspondence out of the prison has been regular. Our bad-assed villain appears to have developed a habit of exchanging letters with his dear old mum every Sunday."

"So? Captain, do you think some old lady is gonna be some higher up in a gang? C'mon, guys. Can you believe this?" The voice came from the back of the room, courtesy of an older, paunchy detective coasting his way to retirement sent Bangor's way by a precinct in Portland, the tone carrying no small amount of scoffing. The bloated red face swung back and forth, looking for someone to agree with him but no solidarity came. Killian considered staring him down but Zelena was doing just fine shooting him her signature "you must be new here" stink face.

Making a mental note to have the mutineer axed from the task force, Killian winked at her as Zelena made a subtle flick of the wrist, hand down by her side. Most would think nothing of it but everyone in the unit knew it was an ode to her "Witch" moniker and had everything to do with siccing flying monkeys on those who displeased her.

"As I was saying, Captain Jones, these letters come in and go out like clockwork. They are horribly boring and mundane to the point where it read less like personal correspondence and more like code."

Killian sat up and out of the corner of his eye, saw every spine in the room worth its salt do the same. Zelena punched a button on her laptop and an image of two letters side by side popped up. Peter's was written on standard issue prison notepaper with a cheap ballpoint pen that looks like it gave out on him more than once. The other was typed from top to bottom – even the signature – and threw up a fuckton of red flags.

"Wait! There's more!" Zelena half-shouted over the buzz in the room. "I did some digging into Peter's public persona. That side of him looks like a choirboy but there's one thing missing: He doesn't have a mother. At least not one whom he diligently calls or writes weekly when he's not behind bars. No texts, no email, no regular trips to church. This mother figure has only existed since he was arrested after the warehouse incident. I ran a few theories by a few colleagues in behavioral units and they concur my knee-jerk reaction to the composition of the letters."

Zelena took a deep breath. "I believe our second in command behind Gold is a woman."

"Are you serious? That bloated sack of shit thinks Belle is running Dreamshade operations? That sweet little thing with the bitchin' shoe collection and a face that screams 'I sing to woodland creatures'? Where the hell did you find this guy?"

Emma was sitting in her office, FaceTiming with Killian and plowing her way through a dinner of ordered-in grilled cheese and onion rings. She picked up her vanilla shake, struggling to get anything of substance out of the cup and saw his eyebrow quirk at her exaggerated sucking. She pulled off the straw and made a show of lewdly licking the melted ice cream off her lips, laughing as his eyes followed her tongue.

Men. So easy to distract.

"Portland swore he has the department's highest solve rate but I'm thinking that was a good twenty years ago and they shoved him onto my task force to get rid of him until he takes that permanent pension vacation. He's fucking useless."

On the screen of her iPad, Killian was scrubbing his face in exasperation.

"I don't know why you can't just come help with this investigation, Swan." He said it rhetorically with his face in his hands but Emma's stomach clenched just the same.

It's not the same as keeping the chats with Will about the details of his shooting a secret. Was it? The more time passed and the further she went in the interview process with Bangor PD – all on the down low to ensure it didn't look like Killian was paving her way – the more she waffled on keeping the potential move to herself.

Especially after that weekend at his cabin when he'd brought up the possibility of her dropping anchor in or around Storybrooke.

Most of the time he seemed like he wanted so much more, dropping future plans for the two of them so casually into conversation she couldn't figure out what made him ask about her buying a place. Was he happy with things the way they were? A night or two when they could manage it, and the time in between spent living separate lives and writing letters, connecting with a phone call or text here and there? Maybe he thought she was a flight risk and wanted confirmation she wasn't going to bail on him.

Ugh.

She masked a scowl behind a bite of her grilled cheese and checked back into their conversation.

"Hey, it's tough policing a town whose latest and most serious crime was a good Samaritan going around town pushing coins into expired parking meters, depriving Storybrooke of somewhere between one and four parking ticket fines a day." Emma buffed her knuckles on her jacket and Killian laughed.

"I'd love to see you this weekend but have to stay close to town. Can you make the drive out here?"

"Um…sure." Because I'm already going to be there Friday for my final interview.

They talked just long enough for him to make a half-hearted but very Jones-like attempt to talk her into FaceTime sex and disconnected the call.

She turned her iPad and pushed the sleep/wake button twice, getting the same warm rush as always when the lock screen photo popped up. It was their first joint selfie, taken with Killian's phone. Their faces were as tightly together as the oversized frames of her glasses allowed. His hair was sticking up in all directions; a byproduct of both sleep and having the strands twisted between her fingers as he spent a considerable time with his head between her thighs the night before.

They'd been making pancakes, good naturedly arguing over chocolate chip vs. blueberry when he'd snuck behind her, palm sliding over the bare thigh visible beneath the hem of his tee shirt while the other hand brought his phone up. She'd tilted her head into his without a thought to her appearance – messy hair and no contacts – and the result was a photo of a couple who looked on their way to falling in love.

She supposed that even back then, they were.

Her interview ran long. So long that Emma found herself ducking into the stairwell instead of taking the elevator downstairs to try and avoid being seen at change of shift. She thought she was in the clear, two steps away from freedom and the door when his voice boomed behind her.

"Swan!"

Killian looked around before breaking away from Will, leaving his detective standing awkwardly in the hallway, and took a few long strides and kissing her cheek. He lowered his voice.

"I thought we were meeting at the house later. Were you leaving or just stopping to say hi?"

Flustered, Emma found herself stuttering a little.

"Yeah, well, I was, um…just coming by to say hi. So…hi."

Her eyes darted to Will for a split second, almost involuntarily, but Killian caught it anyway. He turned to his detective and back to Emma and his expression hardened.

"What the fuck – " He shook off Emma's hand when it landed on his arm. "You two. In my office. Now."

What the hell is it this time? Killian was seething as he led the way through the bullpen, doing his best to school his features. More behind my back crap about me? Liam? My own goddamned investigation? Or worse. Were they a thing? Was she cheating on him? With his friend?

He took a seat behind his desk, doing his best to not look downright murderous as Emma sat in one of his visitor chairs and Will stood at attention, his Captain not giving him the order to sit. The blinds around his office were open and there were more officers than usual milling about because of the shift change.

"Would you two like to tell me what the hell is going on? Why Emma was sneaking out of the building?" He turned directly to her. "Come on, Swan. I thought we were done with secrets. And you, you fucking asshole." He gestured to Will. "I swear, if you so much as touched her, I'll –"

Will broke protocol and Killian wasn't sure if it enraged him more to see his detective slip into friend more or if it helped ease his mind.

"There is nothing happening between Emma and me. Not like that. We're friends. And nothing more. I wouldn't do that to you, man. Besides, she's pretty stuck on your ugly ass and completely immune to my charms."

Anyone else would have earned a punch to the jaw but Killian knew Will wouldn't lie to his face. Emma, on the other hand…

He waved will off and waited until the door closed again before folding his hands demurely on the calendar blotter on the desktop. He opened his mouth to start his interrogation but she beat him to it.

"I applied for a job here."

The words came out in a rush and it took a second for them to sink in. A job. She was here for a job.

"What? Why? What's wrong with the job you have?" Killian knew he sounded dumb but she'd caught him off guard.

His first instinct was to jerk away when she leaned over the desk and touched his hand, the adrenaline that comes with anger still rushing through his veins, but she ran her fingers over his knuckles until he opened his fist and let her link them together.

"Nothing, Killian. It's a good job. I like the town. I like the people. But it's not where you are."

Oh.

He squeezed her hand, speechless as she rushed on.

"I know I should have told you – even asked, really – but I didn't even know if I could pass the exam."

She was looking at him so earnestly and with so much honesty in her eyes, it zapped any remaining ill will he had.

"I don't know what to say, Swan. I wish I had known, I could have helped –"

Killian pulled his hand away and stood, coming around the side of the desk to sit in the vacant chair next to her. He kept his distance knowing all too well about prying eyes but reached out a finger to touch her knee briefly.

"No! No, that's exactly what I didn't want. I did this for me before anything or anyone else. I wanted to prove to myself I could go from a tiny town sheriff to, well, the bigger leagues. And if I'd ridden your coattails in, I wouldn't be able to say I did this myself. And everyone at the top will know you didn't call in any favors to get me here. I just…please, don't be mad."

He looked past her shoulder and saw that the bullpen was mostly cleared out. Anyone who was left was huddled around Will's cubicle, yelling loudly at something on his laptop. It gave Killian the time to usher Emma out of his office and the building to his truck. He owed his friend one.

It was quiet as he drove. He reached across the center console to take her hand but other than that, Killian seemed lost in thought.

Emma's heart was still racing from the confrontation in his office, still worried he was mad. She watched him, examining his profile and looking for any of his telltale signs of being royally pissed off. He looked more contemplative than angry, she decided. When they arrived at his house, he hopped down and jogged around the front of the truck, opening her door for her and helping her navigate the step down to the running board and then the ground. She was grateful since the shoes were new. A little on the sensible side for her tastes but it went with the two no-nonsense pantsuits she'd bought for the interviews.

Twisting the key in the lock, Killian pushed the door open and stepped in, moving to the side to give her space to follow him in and close the door. He tossed his keys toward the helmet on the table in the foyer and missed, took his .45 out and placed it next to the keys with the care it deserved, and then stripped off his jacket and shoulder holster, hanging them both on the hooks near the door.

Then he pounced.

Hands in her hair, lips on hers, spinning her up against the wall. He kissed her messily, speaking almost unintelligibly against her mouth.

"Why didn't you tell me, love? That you didn't want to be apart?"

Emma slipped her hands around his waist, pulling him closer and pulling away at the same time. He braced a hand behind her head, drumming his fingers there impatiently, staring at her mouth, seemingly annoyed she was no longer kissing him.

"I was going to. I was thinking about it and thought it was maybe what you wanted. But then we were at your cabin and you were asking about me buying a place in Storybrooke. I didn't know what to think and almost canceled the damn interviews because I thought you wanted me to stay where I was."

The breath Killian blew out was strong enough to feel like a goddamned glaucoma test and he started to laugh. He backed up and took her hand, leading her through the kitchen to the couch. Emma went to settle on one end but he pulled her closer, almost onto his lap and took her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him.

"I was asking about you moving and commuting because I wanted to see if you were open to the idea. I didn't want you to stay in Storybrooke. I wanted to figure out how to make this work and I was going to ask you to move into the cabin with me."

Okay, that brought the waterworks.

Emma melted into Killian, sliding her face into his neck and breathing him in. Someone wanted her. Not just wanted wanted her. But wanted her every day. The good, the bad and the ugly crying as her tears wet his neck. And he just held her, resting his chin on the top of her head until she squirmed in his arms, twisting around to look at him.

"Chief Hunter officially offered me the job before I left. Robbery division. He said he wants me in on the task force because of my connections throughout the state and in Canada."

Emma watched his face carefully, looking for any sign he wasn't thrilled at the prospect of her crashing his party, legs still tucked awkwardly up against him. When he jumped up and executed a fist bump that made the one Tiger Woods always did look like amateur hour, she was completely off balance and almost pitched forward off the couch. Catching herself, she looked up to see Killian transition from his fist pump to what looked like a seizing monkey doing a touchdown dance.

"What the fuck are you doing, Jones?" He looked ridiculous and Emma was wheezing by the time stopped whatever the hell it was and pulled her off the couch. His movements went from herky-jerky to smooth as he slid an arm around her waist and clasped their hands together, moving them over his heard as he turned them in a slow circle.

"I'm dancing with joy, Swan. You've made me a very happy man." He brought her hand up, kissing her knuckles.

Emma allowed herself to be swayed and put her head on his shoulder, listening to his strong heartbeat under her ear.

"You're just saying that because now you'll have access to all of my contacts."

The rumble in his chest was loud as he laughed, pulling her tighter to him.

"Yes, that's one reason." He drew back and dipped his head, brushing his nose against hers. "But I'm happier that you'll be close. Very close if you want to be."

Killian caught his bottom lip between his teeth and Emma wondered how she fell for someone so incorrigible when it came to innuendo.

Teasing him back, she slipped the hand resting on his upper arm down to his backside, squeezing lightly as she pressed herself closer to him.

"Really? How close?"

His lip slid free of his teeth and she flicked her tongue out to lick it.

"That depends. How close do you want to be?"

Emma saw him draw in a breath and hold it and she knew exactly what he was asking. She drew up on her tiptoes so they were eye to eye, looping both arms around his neck.

"I want to be as close as you'll have me. Wait – Killian? Wait!"

He dashed off into the kitchen leaving her standing there more than a little miffed. They were having a goddamned moment and he just up and left.

But then came back with his offerings.

"This ring has all the keys you'll need. Front door, back door and the mailbox. Here's a garage door opener. I'll move the bike and some other stuff to the shed to make room for your car."

She stood, mouth agape, staring at the items sitting in his outstretched palm. To anyone else they might look like the shit someone might pull out of their junk drawer to give to neighbor offering to bring in while they were gone on vacation. To Emma, it was an offer of a home.

"I love you." She blurted it out. Almost shouted it at him, really. And she was pretty sure he dropped the keys and door opener when she launched herself at him. The kiss she initiated was deep and slow, her falling tears wetting their lips. When they drew back, she giggled and swiped her suit jacket sleeve under her nose. "I'm such a mess right now."

"Hey!" Killian's face took on a mock frown. "Don't talk about the woman I love that way."

She sniffled again as he swooped her into his arms.

God, she was something. Sated and sleepy in his arms, Emma snuggled into him, their limbs tangled together under the blankets. He could say it now, what he'd been thinking all these months, and so he did.

"I love you."

She mumbled the words back and Killian didn't think he'd ever tire of hearing them fall from her lips.