This is just an idea I had, none of the characters are mine. I hope you enjoy! This is my first story on this site! :)

"No! Milah!" Killian Jones yelled as Rumpelstiltskin crushed her heart into dust. He was helpless, tied to the mast of his own ship by evil magic. He extricated himself in time to hold his love in his arms as she breathed her last.

"I love you." She whispered to him and she gently caressed his cheek before growing still, her eyes staring emptily into nothingness. He stood, intending to kill the evil crocodile. The Dark One grabbed for the hand he thought contained the magic bean, the object of his desire.

"No." Jones shouted, his voice choked by sorrow. "You'll have to kill me first." The monster just laughed cruelly.

"I'm afraid that's not in the cards for you, sonny boy," he said in his annoyingly high pitched voice and with one smooth motion he whipped out his sword and then Killian's hand lay on the deck in a spatter of blood. Rumpelstiltskin picked it up and placed it in his crocodile skin-like coat and turned to leave while Captain Jones doubled over in agony, clutching at his injured wrist. Struggling to stifle his pain, he grabbed a rigging hook off the deck where it had fallen and yelled. When the Dark One faced the source of the sound, Jones plunged the hook into his chest.

The crocodile staggered backward, looking aghast at the protruding object. Killian nearly felt like he had won, waited for Rumpelstiltskin to topple over dead, but then the demon let out a high giggle and ripped out the hook in his chest and flung it overboard. The gaping hole rapidly sealed itself. "It's going to take a lot more than that to kill me, dearie! But just for the insult, I'm going to send you somewhere far away. You see, you're persistent, pirate, and just a 'wee bit' upset. I can't afford to have someone throwing the proverbial wrench in my plans now. I have what I need."

"Even demons can be killed! I will find a way," The pirate swore through teeth clenched with pain.

"Good luck living long enough." Rumpelstiltskin waved his hand, and maniacal laughter rang through Killian's ears as red smoke surrounded him, blotting out the Jolly Roger and sending waves of nausea and pain screaming through his body.

"Well, that's the last Class H planet I ever want to see again." Captain Janeway laughed. "Good idea with those plasma torpedoes, Seven. I wouldn't have thought of it."

Seven of Nine inclined her head, acknowledging her captain's praise. "It was a simple matter. The Borg has successfully completed similar procedures often before."

"Still, you did well. Tom, adjust course four points to port please."

"Yes Ma'am," The pilot grinned and pushed a few buttons, altering course to Janeway's satisfaction.

"Captain, there is a slight fluctuation in subspace on the bridge" Tuvok informed Kathryn.

"Compensate," Janeway waved her hand unconcerned, assuming it to be a simple malfunction to be easily solved. A whooshing sound behind her interrupted the captain and caused her to turn. A cloud of swirling red smoke appeared, and then dissipated, leaving in its place a strangely dressed man. Tuvok pulled out his phaser and aimed it at the man, just in case he was dangerous or a threat. The man was tall, dressed in a long leather coat and an odd vest. He swayed for a moment, then collapsed with a short yell and lay curled in a ball on the ground, hissing and moaning in obvious pain. After a brief moment of shock, the captain reacted.

"Mr. Kim, beam him to sickbay." Harry nodded and pressed a few buttons. The man disappeared. "Tuvok, Tom, you're with me," she continued. "Chakotay, you have the bridge." The captain beckoned to her chosen group and headed out of the door.

When they entered sickbay, they saw the doctor struggling to keep the strange man restrained on a biobed. "Hold still, I'm trying to help you!" The hologram was shouting at him. Paris and Tuvok quickly stepped in and forced his shoulders down on the bed.

"No! Milah! Milah! Help… Milah! No…" He was screaming, but trailed off as the doctor finally managed to get a hypo spray sedative into his neck. He lay still. Only then did Kathryn realize: there was blood. There was a lot of it. It was all over sickbay, his clothes and the bed, likely on the bridge too, even on her, Tuvok and Mr. Paris. The holographic doctor grabbed a medical tricorder and began scanning the man.

"Help me get this coat off," he ordered. Janeway stepped forward and assisted the doctor with peeling the heavy leather off the man. He was wearing a white long sleeved shirt underneath, now partially red, especially on the left sleeve. Kathryn gasped in horror and even stoic Tuvok could not help wincing at the painful sight. The man's left hand was gone. It was completely severed and bleeding badly. The doctor fast-walked over to a rolling tray and maneuvered it over to the biobed. He picked up one instrument after another, scanning, fixing, and doing who-knows-what to stop the flow of blood and save the hurt man. The captain and her men stood back to let the doctor work in peace.

Janeway drew her pilot aside. "What do you think about our 'guest'? What do you suppose happened to him?" She asked, wiping a hand across her face. Tom let out a half-laugh. "If I didn't know any better Captain, I'd say he was a pirate. Look at him. He's got a sword, a leather coat, and lots of jewelry… Practically everything about him screams 'pirate'."

"How did he get here though?" Janeway mused. "What happened to him? I have so many questions, Tom."

"Yeah, me too. We just have to wait till he wakes up." The two were interrupted by the doctor.

"I just finished. He should wake up in about an hour. You know, he would have easily died from blood loss or infection where he came from, if his clothing tells us anything about his era. He's lucky he 'came' to us, but he still is slightly unstable," the hologram said with a grim face.

Janeway nodded. "You did well, Doctor. Tuvok, Tom, dismissed. Go wash up and change your uniforms. Thanks for your help. Tuvok, meet me here when it's time." The two left the room. The captain watched them go, and when the doors slid shut, she turned to the doctor. "Can you tell what happened?" she asked.

He shook his head no. "We can only hope he feels like telling his story when he wakes up."

"He intrigues me." The captain walked over to the unconscious man's bed. He began to move, and made noises. "Is he waking up? I thought you said an hour."

The doctor began to scan him. "I did. There must be something wrong." When his scan was complete, he looked at Janeway, relieved. "He's just making noise in his sleep. It's nothing to worry about." After the pair watched him for a while, the random noises became words.

"Milah… Milah… No. You killed her. You killed her! I'll find you, demon… I'll find you, and I'll kill you like you killed Milah!" He grew louder and louder, then quieted, sobbing quietly and repeating that name. "Milah… It hurts, Milah. My arm hurts… Milah…Why did you have to die? Milah… I love you too. Please Milah…"

"Stop this. Sedate him." Captain covered her ears.

"I can't, Janeway. He's in an unstable condition. If I sedate him, he might go into shock, or even worse. You have to go. Come back in an hour."

Kathryn quickly left sickbay and headed to her room. She cleaned up, then ordered her replicator to make her a cup of coffee, black, and then stood, silently looking out her window at the starry vastness of space.

She spoke. "Captain's log, Star date 1524.7: A strange man appeared on the bridge today, injured and wearing pirate attire, of all things. He is unconscious in sickbay currently. We shall see if he is friend or foe shortly. End log."

Log entry completed, she moved to her desk and sat down, talking to herself. "Well, this is new. There's a pirate on my starship." She laughed. "I wonder who 'Milah' is. She's a friend perhaps? Maybe she's his sister? Maybe they were in love? Who knows?" She finished her speculations, downed the last of her coffee, and began going over some reports.

An hour later, she was in sickbay with Tuvok and the doctor. The doctor did a few scans, and then deemed him ready to awake. During the time Kathryn was away, the man's odd clothing had been cleaned, along with the rest of sickbay. The doctor pressed a hypo spray into the side of the man's neck. He woke with a jolt and half sat up. The captain spoke. "Hello. My name is Captain Kathryn Janeway, of the Federation Starship Voyager. This is my tactical officer, Tuvok, and our doctor. Who are you?"

He fell back on the bed, wincing and bringing his ringed right hand to his temple. "My name is Killian Jones. Where am I?"

"You are on my starship. Are you human?" She replied.

He looked at her confusedly. "Of course I am. What's a starship?" he asked. The captain looked rather surprised.

"Mr. Jones, what year is it?" she asked him.

"It's 1832. Why? What's going on?" Killian was bewildered, and slowly sat up.

Suddenly Killian's eyes widened. "Milah." he gasped. "Where's Milah?" His face was covered with emotions, such terrible, strong emotions. All present hoped they would never have to feel what this peculiar man appeared to be feeling. "No… Milah…" He whispered. Killian reached up to cover his face, but, quickly realizing something was off, lowered them and looked with an accepting dismay at where his hand used to be. "Crocodile." He muttered, and quickly, like he was embarrassed, buried his damaged wrist under the thin sickbay blanket.

Captain Janeway disrupted his reverie, curious as to his circumstance. "Mr. Jones, could you tell us what happened?" He shook his head, wincing at the bolts of pain that shot through it again.

"I… I can't… Not yet…"

"That's alright, we won't push you. Tell us on your own time. But you have to tell us one thing. Who, or what, hurt you, and will they pursue you? Is my crew in danger?" Captains must always look out for their crew.

"The Dark One, Rumpelstiltskin did this, but I doubt he even knows where I am. He will not follow me. His goal was to keep me away. You are probably safe."

"Did you say 'Rumpelstiltskin'?" Tuvok asked skeptically.

"Yes. Have you encountered that demon before? I pity you if you have. "

"No, I have not. Captain, may we talk." The Vulcan stepped out into the doctor's separated office, followed by Janeway. "Captain, this man is insane. He claims that 'Rumpelstiltskin', a children's fairytale character, cut off his hand. He dresses like an eighteenth century pirate and hasn't heard of starships. He even thinks it's the eighteenth century."

"I hear your concerns Tuvok. But this man seems honest so far. I trust him. We will have to hear more of his story before we can come to any serious conclusions. Besides, if he is crazy, how does that harm us?" Tuvok stepped back in surrender. Janeway moved back toward Killian. "How do you feel, Mr. Jones?" she asked.

"Please, call me Killian. And I feel alright. I only have a slight headache, thank you. How long was I unconscious?" He asked.

"Not long, just slightly over an hour." He stared at her incredulously.

"Just an hour? But how is that even possible? He stared at his completely healed over wrist for a moment before hiding it again.

"Voyager is very technologically and scientifically advanced. We can enhance the healing process quite rapidly if we want to." The doctor was in his element now, and began rambling about all sorts of surgical wonders he had accomplished and the miracles he had done and so on, so forth. Killian looked at the other people in the room to see if they would translate, but they had no more idea than he had.

"One more question Mr. Jo- Killian." Janeway interrupted the doctor's babbling. "Do you have any intent to harm any of my crew?"

Killian looked up at her in astonishment. "Ma'am, you and your crew saved my life! I would never hurt anyone who did me such a favor. Most the people where I'm from would have simply left me for dead. I am at your service." Janeway nodded, satisfied that the man would not be a threat. The doctor harrumphed at the interruption and decided that his patient had had enough visiting time.

"Captain, Tuvok, our 'guest' is going to need some more rest. If you'll excuse me…" He shooed the two out of sickbay and turned his attention to the man on the bed. "Mr. Jones," He looked the man up and down, surveying his bloodied and torn clothing, "I'm going to have to find you a uniform."