Tagging @ouatwinterwhump, @killian-whump, @cocohook38, and @killianjonesownsmyheart1 <3
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4 weeks ago...
“Got ‘im?”
Detective Jones tightened the second cuff around his prisoner’s wrists, grunting,
“Yep.”
David, who was keeping a tight hold on his own feebly struggling captive, took a labored step toward the patrol car. Broken glass and splintered wood crackled underfoot, a testament to the suspects’ recent activities. With the burlap-clad man in front of him finally subdued, Jones followed his friend to the vehicle, while a glaring woman watched with her arms folded. It was her shop front that had been in the process of being vandalized, and she appeared more inclined to blame the deputies for not responding quickly enough than to thank them for preventing further damage.
His charge now safely tucked into the back seat, Jones slammed the door and then promptly peeled back the sleeve covering teeth marks imprinted into the flesh above his mechanical hand. He scowled at the throbbing injury, which was courtesy of the very same prisoner he’d just arrested: the man hadn’t taken kindly to the attempts to restrain him.
David caught a glimpse of the black and purple punctures as he came around the hood. He hissed through his teeth. “Ouch. You all right?”
Nodding, Jones said,
“It’s a good thing this isn’t a zombie apocalypse, or I’d be a goner.”
David looked startled for an instant--he had yet to get used to pop culture references from this version of Killian Jones--and then laughed nervously. “As far as we know…”
Jones allowed the sleeve to fall back into place, having assured himself that the wound was not bleeding excessively.
“You should still get it looked at,” remarked David. “Human bites are nothing to trifle with.”
With a sigh, Jones started to head for the driver’s seat. “Yeah, I know.”
“You still good to drive?”
Before Jones could answer, David’s phone rang. He immediately tensed when he saw who it was.
“Emma? What’s up; is it… did you find something…?”
Both men climbed into the car, but Jones held off starting the engine as he strained to hear the other end of the conversation. Emma didn’t sound particularly excited or emotional, so likely no news on Hope.
“Got it. We’re headed there too; see you in a bit.” David ended the call, then reached for his seatbelt. “She caught a couple more slaves at the docks and is taking them to Whale.”
Jones fired up the engine and pulled onto the street. “More vandals?”
“She didn’t say.”
One week. It had been one full week since Hope’s abduction. The search parties were dwindling in both size and enthusiasm. No one would say such a thing aloud, but the majority had to be coming to one of two conclusions, neither of them good. And to make matters worse, the slave incursions were intensifying. People were starting to get hurt.
With Emma understandably distracted and Killian still limited in his capacity for action, Detective Jones had stepped in to offer assistance, joining a reinstated David as extra deputies for a very overworked sheriff. They frequently went on patrol or responded to calls together, and already, they made an especially effective team. Part of that was due to their common goal of making things easier for two parents experiencing something that they both had reason to empathize with. But Jones also suspected that David’s relationship with the other Killian colored how he interacted with his newer friend, and it was no great effort to form a close working bond with the prince as a result.
As critical as the need to find Hope was, Jones had to admit to a certain amount of relief in dealing with other matters, such as these slave vandals. Morale could be improved significantly by having small successes unrelated to the main problem… or, perhaps, linked in a roundabout way. The part of his mind curse-trained to connect clues and pieces of assorted puzzles automatically engaged with the world around him, searching for associations.
“That’s one thing that doesn’t quite add up, for me,” admitted Jones, breaking the silence that had fallen as the occupants in the backseat recovered from the struggle. “I can understand the thefts, if this… master is running low on supplies to feed his colony. But random destruction of property? Why would he order that? What does he have to gain, as far away as his compound is?”
“Eh, maybe it’s just a side effect of the mind control. Drives ‘em crazy, makes ‘em wanna destroy stuff.”
“Could be.” Jones yielded to an elderly pedestrian waiting to cross the street, even though his arm was killing him and he wanted nothing more than to speed home to an ice pack and some aspirin.
“What I don't get,” said David, “is why he seems to target men. Have you noticed that? Like 90% of the slaves we’ve captured have been male.”
“Doesn’t mean it’s true for the makeup of his slave population as a whole. It could be that he has better control over the males, or trusts them more for his errands. Or he prefers to have the females around him, sick as that may be.”
David sighed. “I wish we had better communication with the other realms. We could go through missing persons reports and look for patterns.”
“I believe Sir Henry is coordinating that very effort,” the detective told him. “We can at least create a profile of who’s most at risk and come up with better protection measures.”
Neither of them brought up the fact that, as far as they knew, Hope was the only 3-year-old among the missing. The only child, period.
Upon reaching the hospital, Jones pulled into a spot reserved for law enforcement vehicles, just behind Emma’s yellow bug. He and David each retrieved a slave passenger, both of whom were now mumbling the familiar plea to be allowed to return to their master.
The four of them were intercepted by an orderly before they’d even stepped through the door.
“This way,” they were directed. “Dr. Whale and the sheriff are in Room 7.”
Room 7 was occupied by two more twitchy slaves in addition to Whale, Emma, and a nurse. There were also two empty wheelchairs provided for the new arrivals, and the deputies had no trouble securing them in place to await evaluation and admission. Over the low repetition of brainwashed ramblings, the physician was conferring with his nurse, while Emma kept a sharp eye out for trouble. David moved closer to her.
“Hey.” He greeted her with a quick hug, which she returned stiffly. “Anything new? As… as far as…”
Emma shook her head. She wouldn’t look at him, but they could both see the set of her jaw and the steel in her gaze as she reached up to clutch at the shell necklace she wore. David put his arm around her in what was meant to be a comforting gesture.
“I’m sorry, Emma. But, listen, we’ll… I’m sure we’ll find something soon. Has Regina gotten back to you yet about that locator spell? If she was able to make it work even with the magical shield thing?”
Emma heaved a huge sigh, and Jones braced himself to hear a negative on that count. But her following statement was unexpected, and seemingly unrelated.
“Killian’s gone.”
Jones thought he detected fear, pain, and a little bit of resentment under her carefully casual tone.
“Gone where?” he asked, though he suspected he already knew the answer. Emma rubbed at her eyes as she struggled to hold onto her composure.
“He’s convinced the monster has her. He’s going to try and get her back.”
David paled, concern prominent on his features. “By himself? What is he thinking?”
“I don’t know! That he can trade himself, maybe? That the monster will tell him where she is so he can break her out? That he’s some damn immortal hero who can single-handedly defeat the guy we’ve been trying for weeks to get at?!” With effort, she reined in her frustration and lowered the volume of her voice. “Classic, idiotic Killian BS.”
Emma glanced brazenly at Jones, daring him to protest. Instead, he inclined his head in solemn agreement. He wasn’t denying the idiocy of the action… but neither would he condemn it or pretend not to understand. Desperation was an all-too familiar burden for him.
“We should go after him,” fidgeted David. “Maybe we could catch up before--”
“No.”
Emma’s voice was so clear and commanding that even Dr. Whale stopped what he was doing to look over at her. Tears were threatening to fall now, but she never lost her air of authority. “We could send the whole town after him, and there would still be enough slaves to fight us off. A big battle means more chance that Killian or… or Hope--” here she cleared her throat as her voice cracked--“dies. So no, we won’t be going after him. Not this time. He made his choice.”
Jones and David exchanged a look. Was this truly the same woman who had risked everything to follow her husband into the Underworld for a rescue? Gently, David began,
“Emma… you’re hurting, and we get it, but maybe we should discuss this.”
“No, Dad,” she hissed back. “No one else goes on a suicide mission. I couldn’t take it.” She sniffed and rubbed at her eyes while David ran his hand up and down her back. “Until we have a solid plan… Killian stays where he is.”
Though it obviously pained him to do so, David nodded a slow acceptance of her statement. The problem was that they were no closer to coming up with a viable plan of action, while the urgency of the situation kept escalating. Sighing, David stepped back.
“What do you need right now? How can we best help you today?”
Emma watched Dr. Whale for a long moment; he had moved on to his assessment of the second slave and seemed to have things well in hand. “I’m gonna stay here and make sure there’s no trouble getting these guys secured. Maybe you could head to the station and check for new messages, any reports or new information. And I guess call Regina for an update.”
“Done.” David turned to Jones and gestured at his wounded arm. “Come on, partner. I’ll walk you down to Urgent Care and we can call the queen while you wait.”
Emma cast a critical eye in the detective’s direction; he made a face and waved off the concern. She didn’t press for details. David drew her in for one more hug, placing a kiss on top of her head.
