A/N: this was a prompt dedicated to the hookandhatter on tumblr. it's long over due. there are some grammar/general crappy writing errors, so i am sorry for that. and most of it might not make sense, since my stuff never does. i do want to point out (and you can read this after or before, doesn't matter) that emma in this did have a little childhood crush on the Captain, so you can base your ideas off that why she left too. yadayada. quote is by sri chinmoy.

hope you like it.

The Once-Boy

"You can only hate someone whom you have the capacity to love,
because if you are really indifferent, you cannot even get up enough energy to hate him."

"Captain?"

The voice was as timid as ever, like a little mouse peeking its head out of its hole to stare openly up at a cat. There was nothing truly wrong with Smee if he really thought about it, but if there was one thing that Killian hated more than that little red hat atop his head was the way he stuttered about his words.

"Is there a reason for you being in my cabin, Mr. Smee?"

There was a wince upon his face as he twisted the hook upon the heavy attachment on his arm. It had been weeks since he had lost the hand, leaving him with nothing but a depressing stump of a wrist that often fooled him into thinking that it was still there in the dead of night only to find the softness of flesh and not the rough touch of calloused fingers. There was some sort of satisfaction, however, each time that metal hook clicked into place no matter the discomfort.

"Does it… Does it hurt, sir?"

For a moment amidst the silence, the hook was brought up to his eyes to observe the pointed edge. It was a dull and clearly misused piece of his ship, but he set in his mind a goal to fix that. It didn't matter if it took hours to sharpen the metal into a fine point, Killian would do so without even a hint of impatience. It was better than dwelling in the past, of watching the emptiness of death swallow up Milah's face as her heart turned to dust in that coward's fingers.

A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. "Would you like to try it, Smee?"

The large man shook his head quickly.

"Then what is it you want?"

"It's just that… There is a woman, Captain. The men found her wandering near the ship."

"A woman?" A brow raised then as he turned to look at the nervous looking man, only worsening the man's behavior as he took a sharp step forward. "She must be from the camp—"

"That's just it, sir." The man's face turned red as Killian's face darkened, knowing his mistake had been that he had cut the Captain off without permission. "She's not a red skin."

The Captain was not ignorant to the fact that things in Neverland had changed. Some of the trees were barren, the clouds dark and threatening above the land and sea. What was worse was the water, the way it rocked and crashed against the side of the ship at random intervals even though there was no storm about. Being that Killian knew about the water more than anything else in his life, he knew this wasn't something normal. Not even for Neverland.

It didn't help that there had been not a single sign of the Lost Boys since they had arrived. There was no obnoxious crowing, not even a hint of boyish laughter that used to fill the each little crevice of the island. It had been a bit nerve wrecking at first, until Killian found some relief in it.

"Stand aside."

The crew parted the moment he spoke, some with sly grins on their faces and grabby hands that inched toward a curled figure upon the ground.

The first thing he saw was the glimpse of curled blond hair upon the floor, arms tied behind her back with rope that he could see happened to be digging into her skin as she struggled with her bindings. But the very moment he approached, the sound of his boots scrapping against the wooden floor of the deck, her head snapped up and she peered at him through curtains of her hair.

There was something familiar about the way she glared.

"Sit up."

He watched as the woman pursed her lips, sneering rather delicately as she sat up only to spit at his feet.

He could feel the prodding eyes of the crew on him, watching with intent the way the Captain's features twisted into mild surprise and then into anger. Killian didn't care whether he had changed into something darker than before ever since Milah was sent to her watery grave. He didn't even care that he lost a hand, because in all honesty all he really cared about was this hatred inside of him at everything little thing that reminded him that he was alone and that this emptiness inside of him would not leave until he got his revenge.

Rumplestiltskin.

Even the sound of the coward's name had him gritting his teeth together.

A quick nod from their Captain was all the crew needed as they grabbed at the blond, yanking her up from the wooden floor only to toss her against the rail. She hissed and spat like a cat, kicking with feet until she caught one on the nose with a satisfying crunch.

It was chaotic, but it ended with a scream.

Killian used to think of himself as a gentlemen, what with the way he smiled and charmed with just a few simple words to any and all women. But after everything that happened, the Captain could hardly care whether or not the woman's face was pretty even though he could clearly see the expression of pain on her face as he pulled her against his chest and held his hook to her neck.

It didn't matter if the pointed end of his hook was dull. It would only mean a slower death is all.

"I wouldn't be doing that if I were you, lass."

"Don't call me lass."

He grinned a little wolfishly once as he gripped the woman tighter with his hand, watching her wince and soon hide the action once she realized her mistake.

"Now what were you doing near my ship?"

"Your ship?" There was a hint of amusement in her voice that had Killian pausing, only to dig fingers into the sensitive flesh of her arm as she continued. "I don't remember the Captain having a hook for a hand."

She laughed like a hyena as he shoved her at the ground, this smug look in her eyes that struck a nerve inside him so deep that he almost forgot what it felt like to be so fucking annoyed.

"You're still a stupid codfish," hissed the blond from the ground, catching the Captain off guard with those wild legs of hers as she lashed out at his knees.

Killian honestly never hated gravity more than in that moment.

He didn't know how, didn't even want to ask the bloody idiots who tied her up how she managed to get out of her restraints as she found her merry way upon his stomach with a knee digging into his chest and a small yet familiar dagger pressing into the leather vest hiding his ribs. As he growled up at her, raising a hand to stop the crew from moving any closer, he could see it in the green of her eyes and the smug smirk upon her lips.

"Pan?"

"It's Emma."

He glowered at her grin. "You're a woman."

"And you're a man without a hand."

He nearly groaned at this. It was like a distant memory of an argument long since past, one that went on for hours because some scrawny little shit of a boy was throwing back insults right at Killian's face. Except it had been a girl the whole time. He could practically feel the arrogance seeping off her.

"Tell me, Pan, how is it a boy suddenly turns into a woman?" The Captain grinned a little deviously as the girl's eyes darkened. "You haven't been teasing the mermaids again, have you?"

She pushed off him then with a glare, muttering once under her breath that her name was Emma and nothing else, but he could see through him – her – as he always had been able to. She felt a distinct ounce of pride when being called Pan, and Killian knew it.

Killian hesitated in rising, if only because the woman was a wild card. If she wanted to put him back on the ground, he didn't doubt she could.

"What happened to you?" she asked then, looking uncomfortable for even inquiring such a thing as her fingers curled into the palm of her hands and she stared down at his feet.

Did she actually care? How sweet.

"What happened to you, Peter Pan?" He could see the fire in her eyes grow once more, and for some reason a bit of relief filled him. Relief he had not felt for weeks, something that had his lip curling into a snarl of distaste if only because he didn't want to feel relieved when he was still mourning. But to think that he would feel at home with this brat around, a brat who was truly a brat no loner. "My, my. And here I always thought you were ugly."

The crew laughed as they normally did, even when Killian wasn't even trying to be funny. It was a comfort of the old days, before he met Milah, before he knew what real pain was. But now it was only annoying, and the withering look he sent them had their traps shutting very quickly.

With a daring move, he raised his hook until she was staring at it with narrowed eyes, using it to slowly brush back a curl of long, golden hair. There was no fear in her eyes, not even with he brushed the cold steel along her neck. "Did you leave, lass? The boy who never wanted to grow up left only to return as a woman."

The grin he gave was not amused, but sinister in the way it curled at the edges. It was nefarious even as the once-boy froze and peered up at him with wide and familiar eyes.

"How about you enlighten me, love. Why is that?"

She didn't even stop to think. This woman went right at it.

"When you left, I… I couldn't stay. Everything felt different."

He may have believed her before, if only because people didn't generally lie to him in Neverland. But he had spent far too long from home, and even though Peter's – no, Emma's – words rang true his heart refused to believe it. He refused to believe that his disappearance had been fretted over by some boy that hid in trees. He refused to believe that this woman's sympathy was real even as, in his stunned silence, she reached up to pull his hook down from the nape of her neck. She did not release it.

"When I left, I grew up." She shrugged lazily like it wasn't a big deal, but he knew that it was. Peter had been Neverland's king, but this Emma did not even know how to be its Queen. Did she not know that if she had left for good, there would have been no Neverland to return to?

The look in her eyes as she met his gaze said that she did.

"The lost boys were talking about you when you came back. That you had a hook for a hand, and that you didn't have spirit in you anymore." A look crossed her face, one that hardened her pretty features and made her into something far from anything he had ever seen before. "You should have stayed in Neverland."

Killian gave a derisive laugh as he raised his arms in mock defense. "You could be right, lass."

He felt he should have let her go. He didn't have the patience to deal with some fierce woman causing havoc on his ship, even if at one point in time this one had caused it all.

"Get off my ship before I change my mind."

He should have known that this – whatever she was – was up to something, but by the time he did, the blond was already grinning and then crowing loudly at the top of her lungs.

It was then, in dirty little furs made of animal skins and unkempt hairs, did children begin to swarm down upon his ship in an array of colors. The crew began to shout and raise their swords, making Killian hiss at the panic that was caused, but a hand upon his chest was soon giving a hard shove until his back met the door of his cabin.

There was a smile on Emma's lips, one that was familiar and yet different all at the same time. It was smug, with amusement hanging at the corners of her red mouth. There were points in his life where he wished things could be handled a little easier. Maybe if that were so, he would still have his other hand. But as the fierce blond suddenly threw herself at him, he knew that wondering such things would be pointless and only serve to distract him further.

Emma was as vicious as she always had been, except now she was older. There wasn't a small boy who slipped from view only to show up out of his blind spot. There was just this woman with a dagger against a sword and a hook, and as much as he tried to stop himself from feeling it, he was impressed.

But her movements had changed since she had been little. When she had been smaller, her attacks had been loose and yet precise, now they were wild and heavy. The woman barely put up her defenses, attacking with all the might she had with some stupid little grin on her face until, finally, he had enough.

With a deft move, his hook grabbed her by the dirty material of her shirt until he heard the satisfying sound of a tear, slamming her down to the ground when she was unprepared for it.

"Drop the toothpick." He stepped down hard on her wrist then, watching her grimace as her petite fingers unclenched the dagger she held tightly in her hand. "That's a good lass."

As she stared up at him defiantly and utterly familiar, Killian shifted until he lean down and pressed the edge of his blade against her neck. At the purse of lips he watched form upon her lips, he let out a smooth chuckle that only had her glaring. He knew he shouldn't have. It was wrong, no matter that she was a woman now and could handle herself, but as Killian dragged the edge of his hook down along the flat planes of her abdomen, he could not help but enjoy the visible shiver that seemed to shake her.

With a heavy hum that laced his voice, he grinned down at her. The chaos of the fighting went unheard, if only because his once long time annoyance was beneath him and at his mercy. All he had to do was press that blade down harder, and she would be gone from his terribly dark existence.

"This has been quite interesting, I must say. Had I known you were a girl, I would have insisted you grow up." There was a spark in his eye as his tongue swiped along his bottom lip, an hold habit even though it seemed to bother the blond beneath him if her uncomfortable shifting was any indication. "There are a few enjoyable things grown ups can do together, love. Most of them involve the woman on her back—"

"Killian."

He wasn't sure why his name on Emma's lips made him freeze. Maybe because the only one who had ever been allowed to call him such was dead, heart crushed to ash. Perhaps it was because he had almost forgotten what it felt like to be himself, even if it had only been weeks, and the sound of his name had him realizing what he was doing and what he should be doing.

"Killian, Killian. What would you have done had you met me before all of this? If we grew up together."

"Romanticizing things again, lass? You do know if you met me before all of this, you would have been a bit too old for my tastes." He heard her release a sound of shock and soon felt a slap on his shoulder, making him chuckle as he apologized quickly otherwise the woman's beating wouldn't have ended as easily as it had. "What brought this all on, Milah?"

"I had a dream last night. You weren't a pirate, and we were married. We were happy."

"Are you not happy now?"

She gave him a pointed look that gave him the answer, as if he was being ridiculous for even asking the question. "I just wonder. If you met me before you became a pirate, before you ever stole your ship, what would you have done?"

He knew deep down, that if they had met before he stole the Jolly Roger, things would have ended differently. Milah was a woman that craved adventure, and had they settled down in another life, she would have left him just as willingly as she had left that coward of a man. But to please her, to please a part of himself he never thought he had, he smiled a little wistfully.

"I would have stolen a ring instead."

"Look at me."

The demand in Emma's voice had him falling back to the tight grip of reality reluctantly. The eyes that stared up at him were not the eyes of the woman he had been thinking about, but they seemed to pull him in just as strongly. Green eyes. Not gray.

He scowled as he stared down at the woman beneath him, his grip on his sword growing slack even though he didn't want to succumb to whatever it was that Emma was trying to do. But he couldn't stop himself as he moved his sword from the sensitive skin of her throat and dropped it down next to her head until the sound of metal clattered against wood, a weak look entering his eyes.

"You've been hurt inside, Killian. I can see it. But you are alive, not dead. Do not act as if you are."

"And do not act as if you know me, wench. Shall I do the same of you? Emma. You were better when you were nothing but a brat."

A snarl curled at the edge of the woman's fascinating lips, unprepared for when bare feet met his stomach and kicked him back. She was on her toes faster than he expected her to be, barely even registering the fist that was aimed for his jaw.

Lights blinded him. He never imagined that a woman would have such a strong right hook, but he had now been proven otherwise as he tried to catch himself on the ship's railing. The crew around them fell silent, the lost boys looked painfully smug as their leader stepped up to face the groaning Captain who absently rubbed at his soon to be bruised face.

"Killian."

How he hated it when she said his name. And how he loved the leap of his heart it caused.

He was silent as he glared up at her, wiping off the trail of blood that dripped from his lips. Killian watched in suspicion as she raised her hand, lifting up his sword she held in her fingers and handed it to him, without any hesitation or thought of caution.

"Don't be such a silly ass, Captain."

As his fingers closed around the hilt of his blade, fingers brushing hers unintentionally, he nearly sucked in a shaky breath at the fast pace his heart suddenly took on. He could never forget his hatred, no matter if Emma's eyes were softening as they scrutinized him. He could never forget the need for revenge, and his need to kill some demon he'd probably never see again.

But as Emma smiled once his sword was back in his hands, he could not stop the small inkling of hope that poured down from his heart into his twisting stomach.

"Welcome home, Captain Jones."