Hi everyone!

So, for those of you who read 'Revenge So Bittersweet', remember how I said there were going to be three oneshots in this series?
Yeah... I lied.

This part is going to be a twoshot, because it was just getting too damn long and I didn't want to put all of the action in one big chapter sooooo... This part is mostly Captain Swan bonding time ;) I know how much everyone loves those two bonding.. I know I do.

I'm nearly finished with the second part of this, and then I'll get started on the final part in these series. That will be called 'Reunion So Bittersweet', and will be up ASAP.

I suppose this could be read as a stand-alone two-shot, but I would recommend reading 'Revenge So Bittersweet' first, just so you have some Killian-background before reading this.

I'm curious though, what do you guys think... Will Killian be reunited with his daughter? Or will it be someone else entirely waiting for him back in Storybrooke? Tell me all of your guesses!

Oh, and just a quick warning, I didn't feel like repeating everything Captain Swan said on the show, so there's a time jump in the middle of the chapter, and a change of POV. It starts out with Killian, and then it switches to Emma, and jumps a little in time.

Xx Annaelle

Meetings So Bittersweet

PART I

He tried not to breathe in through his nose as he lay hidden beneath the pile of rubble and dead bodies. He was rather annoyed with Cora at the moment—she was ordering him around as though she were the captain.

He did not take kindly to being ordered around.

He and Cora shared a common goal; that was all. They both wanted to get to this strange realm—the realm his Crocodile and her daughter resided in. As the thought of Cora's daughter crossed his mind, he winced in pain; he had failed his own daughter—he had sworn he would find her; sworn he would hold her once again.. But he hadn't.

Three hundred years had passed—the time to save his daughter had long gone; and he loathed himself for it. Even if Cora had expressed the possibility of his daughter being taken by the curse—putting her in Storybrooke with the other—he dared not believe it.

He was never that lucky.

So he would make the Crocodile pay for what he had done—he would kill him for ripping apart his family—his life.

And in order to do that, he needed to get to this … Storybrooke. That was the only reason he put up with Cora for the past twenty-eight years; that and she would rip his heart out without hesitation if he proved to be of no more use to her.

And all that lead to his current predicament; buried under a load of stinking, heartless corpses, waiting to be rescued by a band of rogue princesses.

He nearly scoffed at the thought.

He was Captain Hook—he didn't need to be rescued by anyone; much less a bunch of empty-headed princesses.

He was torn from his thoughts when he heard several feet traverse the ruins of the village, horrified gasps and angered voices.

He swallowed and closed his eyes.

Showtime.

.

.

.

He glanced over his shoulder at the Swan girl—Emma—as she spoke. He nearly smiled at the resolve laced with resignation in her tone; she didn't want to climb that beanstalk—and he couldn't blame her.
It would take hours; but he wasn't worried about climbing the beanstalk; he was worried about what would be waiting for him at the top.

He turned to smirk at Emma, thoroughly enjoying the way she rolled her eyes at him—but still blushed nearly unnoticeably—and said, 'It's not the climb you need to worry about, love… It's the giant at the top.'

He allowed his words to sink in and started walking once again—he knew they didn't trust him yet; and he didn't expect them to—Emma had made that abundantly clear when she tied him to a tree, ready to leave him to the ogres—but he was genuine in wanting to help them get back to Storybrooke; if he was allowed to accompany them.

They were far safer company than Cora—he glanced at Emma once again—and far better to look at too.

They continued in silence for a while, but he felt Emma's eyes burn into the back of his head; he was well aware that she couldn't really figure him out—but the same went for her and it frustrated him beyond belief; he simply couldn't figure her out.

She intrigued him. There was simply something about her.

She was an open book at times; but she left him guessing at her motives—and she had bested him; which was very impressive indeed. He had meant it when he said he could count the people who did that on one hand—he'd only ever been bested by those with magic.

And that was cheating—it didn't count.

'It looks a little freakier than I remember from the story,' Emma broke him from his thoughts. He turned to look at her with a slight smirk. She sounded more and more apprehensive.

'It reminds me of death,' the warrior girl spoke—Hook nearly rolled his eyes. The beanstalk was cursed; of course it reminded of death.

Snow White—who stood next to him—sighed and muttered, 'That's encouraging.'

He didn't care for their petty concerns about the beanstalk—all he wanted was to get up there, get the compass and get to Storybrooke; to skin his Crocodile. 'Well,' he said, 'The compass awaits. Shall we?'

He didn't wait for a response and started for the beanstalk. They would follow him.

'So, these beans,' Emma—No, damn it, he cursed himself, don't call her by her name—too intimate—The Swan girl began, 'create portals.. Why not just pick one and go home? Why the compass?'

He sighed. Clearly she knew nothing of this world at all—did her parents not tell her anything? 'Because there aren't any more beans,' he supplied, 'Whatever story you think you know, my dear, is most certainly wrong.'

She groaned and began, 'There was a guy named Jack, and a cow, and something about an evil giant with a treasure, and…' she hesitated, 'A golden goose…' He smirked at her pensive expression as she added, 'or a harp.'

'Sounds like a lovely tale,' he grinned, 'But the truth is a little more gruesome.' He suppressed a sigh. This was not one of his favorite tales. 'The giants grew the beans, but rather than use their magic for good, they used them to plunder all the lands. Jack and his men fought a terrible war, defeating all but one of the evil giants. The giants destroyed the beans before they were killed. If they couldn't have the magic, then nobody could.'

He looked up and rolled his eyes. 'Truly very bad form.'

Emma frowned again, almost as though she was attempting to solve a puzzling riddle and asked, 'Okay, so … Evil giants, who made magic portal beans… Why doesn't anyone go up and grow some more?'

She smiled at him as though she had just solved all of their problems—which she might have; minus one tiny little detail. 'Because one giant survived,' he replied, 'the strongest and the most terrible of them all.' He groaned internally—he needed to convince them to climb that beanstalk with him; they truly did need that compass. 'Now we'll have to sneak past him to get—'

'—the magic compass,' Snow supplied with a glare in his direction.

He resisted the urge to scoff at her—he looked at him as though he had been the one to decide to hide the compass with a murderous giant—and smirked. 'Indeed.'

'The treasure remains, amongst it is the compass.' He pointed to Emma, 'Now it will guide us to your land. Cora can open a portal with the wardrobe ashes, but she can't find your land without the compass.' He smiled, 'We get the compass, steal the ashes from her and then we're on our way.'

'How do we know you're not just using us to get the compass for Cora?' The warrior asked, glancing up the beanstalk and then back at him. He smiled wryly when all eyes fell onto him once again—he had been waiting for that question to come up; and he had an honest-to-God answer to it.

'Because you four are far safer company,' he replied. 'All I need is a ride back, hence my allegiance to whomever gets me there first.' He met Emma's gaze dead on and waited; she could tell whether he was lying or not, and as uncomfortable and annoying as it may be, he knew that if she believed him, so would the others.

'Okay,' she finally spoke, not taking her eyes off his, 'then we better start climbing.'

He laughed, 'Right, I failed to mention—the giant enchanted the beanstalk to repel intruders; you'll be so frightened or disgusted—you won't be able to touch it.'

He watched with growing amusement as the Swan girl kicked the ground and spat, 'Well then, how do we get up there?'

He smiled. 'I got a counter spell from Cora—' he faltered and playfully smirked, raising his bound wrists at them. '—if you'd be so kind?' Snow made a face, but untied his wrists anyway, glaring at him—he was certain that if looks could kill; he would be no more than a pile of ashes by now. And still, he could not resist.

He leaned in, winked at her and whispered, 'Thank you, m'lady.' He shed the heavy cloak and scarf, feeling far more comfortable in his regular leather already, and held up his arm. 'I got one more of these,' he knocked on the bracer around his wrist and smirked, holding up the second between his fingers, 'Cora was to accompany me. So…'

He grinned at Emma, who seemed to catch on to his question before he had even said it—something that might have disturbed him if he allowed himself to think upon it—, 'Which one of you four lovelies is going to take her place?'

He eyed all four of them separately, his gaze landing upon the blonde—the Swan girl—last. 'Go on, fight it out… and don't be afraid to, you know, really get into it.' He winked, smirking when the princess blushed and Emma rolled her eyes.

He wouldn't say it, but he was hoping it would be her.

Somehow, he wouldn't mind some one on one time with that feisty blonde. The others didn't really draw him in—there was something about this one..

He couldn't name it; and he wasn't sure he wanted to either.

He busied himself with getting ready for the climb, trying to calculate how long it might take them to get to the top and how long it would take to get the compass—he wanted to get it done fast; he was certain Cora would realize he had switched sides sooner rather than later; and he didn't want to be anywhere near her when she did.

He glanced back to the four women and rolled his eyes. They were taking far too long. He smirked when he realized it seemed like Emma was going to accompany him—though he did find himself rather surprised by the sudden wave of jealousy that hit him as Emma spoke of some bloke named Henry—said that she didn't care what she had to face to get back to him.

Who was this man—and why the hell did it bother him so much? He shook his head lightly and crossed his arms over his chest, attempting to follow the exchange between the women; he didn't want them making plans without him; he did not want to risk losing all that he had worked for over the past three centuries because he decided to trust Emma.

'You got anything in that bag that'll help us against a giant?' Emma tilted her head to the side and looked at the warrior girl, who glared at him in return and spat, 'A hook?'

He frowned. They were all acting as though he purposefully and personally offended them. 'Hey,' he exclaimed, 'Bad form, lass. Very bad form.' Of course, he was ignored, and left to stare at Emma and …Mulan, was it? As they separated themselves from the group and whispered conspiratorially—he frowned. Now that didn't predict much good.

He'd have to figure that out while they were climbing.

'Ladies,' he interrupted their cozy little chat, 'In this world, we're slaves of time—and ours is running out. In other words,' he sighed and feigned a slightly bored and impatient expression, 'Tick tock.'

The truth was—no matter how much he might hate it—he wanted to get Swan alone; he felt an almost compulsory need to find out what made her tick; who she was; who the lad she wanted to get back to was. It was a need he did not care to investigate too far; the thought of caring too much was simply terrifying; and ridiculous.

He was Captain Hook; he cared for none but himself and his ship.

Warily, he watched as Emma approached him, opening her jacket sleeve with some metal contraption—something from another realm, he presumed—and smirked at her. 'I was hoping for you,' he added playfully, not caring to admit how real that statement was.

He grabbed her hand, nearly jumping at the seemingly electric current that burst through his veins upon touching her and placed it on his shoulder, avoiding her eye—he knew she felt it too, and he wasn't sure what that meant.

'Put your hand right there,' he smirked at her, feigning nonchalance, 'There's a good girl.' Slowly, making sure to touch her as little as possible—he honestly did not want to know what would happen if he touched her more than he needed to—he snapped the bracer onto her slim wrist. 'This will allow you to climb.'

He frowned slightly though, when he thought of the path ahead of them. Somehow, the thought of Swan in danger bothered him more than anything had bothered him since … Since Milah died. Since he lost Penelope.

It was rather disturbing, and he was most pleased with himself for not showing his inner turmoil to Emma—she would make more out of it then there was. 'But there are other dangers…' He hesitated for a moment and fought to regain his bravura and smiled at her.

'Thankfully, you've got me to protect you.' He held up his stump silently, raising an eyebrow at her. She smiled and cocked her head to the side, almost as though she was mockingly saying, 'Really?'

He rolled his eyes at her. 'Come on, lass. I can't climb one-handed, can I?'

She glared at him, but dug into the satchel nonetheless, handing his hook to him with obvious reluctance. 'Don't think I'm taking my eyes off you for a even a second,' she threatened, her green eyes not leaving his.

He smirked at her as he clicked his hook back into place. 'I would despair if you did.' She rolled her eyes at him, hanging his satchel on his hook without any sort of tact, ignoring the flirty smile he sent her way—he grinned to himself as he slung the satchel over his shoulders and followed her to the beanstalk.

Ah yes. This was going to be so much fun.

.

.

.

Emma wasn't sure how to deal with Hook—he was nothing like she expected him to be; and it unnerved her completely. She didn't like how he seemed to look right through her—it was almost as though he could read her mind; and that scared the hell out of her.

He was Captain Hook, for God's sake—she couldn't let herself trust him; she was sure he hadn't turned his back on Cora completely. It didn't matter how sweet and charming he had been when helping her with the cut on her hand; she knew he was a good actor.

He was a pirate.

Of course he was good at sweet-talking people.

She had tried to ignore the emotion—the heartbreak—in his voice when he muttered, 'They're both gone.' She had only asked him about Milah; only wanted to know why he was so hell-bent on getting to her land; why he needed to punish Rumpelstiltskin for what he did—and he had revealed far more than he had intended.

She wasn't even sure if he had realized just what he had said himself—but those three words had said more than anything else ever could—he was broken. He was a broken man seeking to avenge the people he loved. If she had to guess, Milah would have been his lover, killed by Rumpelstiltskin, along with a child.

Hook's child.

She was well-aware how ridiculous the thought of Captain Hook having a child was, but somehow, it made so much more sense.

The pain and rage she saw reflected in his eyes—it was her own. Pain a parent only endured after being separated from their child; tortured by their inability to protect them.

She hadn't confronted him with it—they had both been rather pre-occupied with finding the compass as fast as they could; though Hook was distracted several times by other pretty, shiny objects in the treasure room.

She found herself wanting to trust him—wanting to believe in him; because she recognized herself in him. And if he could make it—if he could be saved, so could she.

She looked from the hole in the wall, to the giant, back to the pile of rubble—and a plan formed in her head. She sighed and turned back to the giant, praying to whatever God this land worshipped that she would not come to regret this.

'Actually,' she said, 'I get two favors.'

Anton glared at her, but nodded begrudgingly. 'What do you want?'

She smirked.

.

.

.

Slowly, she reached for his hand and helped him crawl from underneath the pile of rubble as he laughed, a delighted sound that made her want to join in rather than what she was about to do. 'You are bloody brilliant,' he exclaimed, 'Amazing!'

She tried to hide her blush as they kneeled before each other, and took to silently appraising him, making sure he wasn't injured—but it seemed the pirate had more luck than wits. 'May I see it?' He questioned, drawing her from her thoughts, holding out his hand with a pleading look in his eyes. 'The compass?'

She pushed down the dread that filled her gut and smiled at him, pulling the compass from her pocket. She was doing the right thing—she was sure of it.

He would understand.

He needed to.

'It's even more beautiful than legend,' he breathed, almost as though in awe—she didn't quite get it; but maybe that was a pirate thing—fawning over pretty compasses.
When he reached out to touch it though, she pulled back, not entirely sure what he was up to—she tried to ignore a tiny little voice in her head that was telling her she was about to make a big mistake and tried to smile back as he offered her his hand.

'Come,' he said, 'Let's go home.'

Slowly, she placed her hand in his, calculating how fast she could pull this off, before he'd get to his feet. The shock that ran through her upon touching him nearly made her stumble—his large, startled eyes told her she wasn't the only one to have felt it; and that scared her even more—furthering her belief that she was doing the right thing.

So as fast as she could, she snapped the cuff around his wrist and backed away, wincing at the disbelief laced with genuine hurt when he demanded to know what she was doing.

'Emma,' he said, nearly stumbling to his feet, 'What are you doing?' She winced again as his voice nearly broke upon the last word, closing her eyes for a moment before muttering—still avoiding his penetrating gaze—, 'I can't—'

'Emma, look at me,' he interrupted her, 'Please. Look at me.'

And even though she knew it would ruin everything she had planned, she found herself unable to deny his request. Slowly, dreading the moment their eyes would meet, she raised her eyes to his blue ones. 'I brought you here,' he stated, genuine confusion in his tone, 'I helped you, I risked my own safety to help you find your compass—the compass that is now in your hand. Why do this to me now?'

She bit her lip and shook her head. 'I can't take the chance that I'm wrong about you,' she whispered, 'I need to get back to my son. I need to do whatever I can to protect him. I can't take any chances.' She took a step closer to him, pleading without words for him to understand.

'Please,' she said, 'I'm sorry. But I have to do this.'

She turned her back on him, pushing back hot tears that burned in her eyes as he called out her name. 'Emma! Emma, please! Damn it, Emma!'

She walked away slowly, confused and terrified by the way it tore her up to leave him—it wasn't something she had foreseen; she had figured she just needed to get away from him to loosen the hold he seemingly had over her—even if he wasn't aware of it yet.

'Damn it!' He yelled behind her, and she tensed when she heard him sending something crashing to the ground. 'Emma, my daughter is in Storybrooke!' he exclaimed—now there was something to stop her dead in her tracks. 'I would never have allowed Cora to pass through the portal,' he continued, sensing her hesitation, 'I just needed her to open it.'

Slowly, still stunned, she turned, staring at him. 'You said they were gone,' she whispered, her voice trembling. He, too, was pale, but nodded anyway. 'I know. And maybe I'm wrong and foolish to hope she'll even be alive—but if there's even the slightest chance that she's in Storybrooke—'

His voice broke and Emma nearly wept at the sight of tears in his cerulean eyes, '—I need to know. I need to find her; even if I'm too late.'

'You have a son,' he said, 'You know. I will do anything to get my child back. Please don't take the chance I have been waiting for ever since she was taken from me away. I won't betray you.'

Her resolve was wavering, and she hated herself for it—she couldn't believe him; no matter what her earlier suspicions had been; she couldn't risk Henry's safety because Captain Hook tugged on her heartstrings.

'Swan.'

His gentle whisper broke her from her thoughts, and she looked up into his stormy, expressive eyes. 'Please,' he whispered. 'Don't take away the only chance I have at reuniting with the only family I have left. Let come home with you.'

She wasn't sure why she gave in—she didn't know what finally made her do it.

All she knew was that she found herself wandering back towards him, slowly lifting his hand in hers, fiddling with the lock until it dropped from his wrist and landed on the cold floor with a loud, hard clank. 'I'm trusting you,' she whispered, holding his gaze, 'Don't make me regret it.'

His smile was gentle and sweet as he lifted her hands to his lips, brushing a soft kiss on top of it. 'Never,' he swore, before tucking her hand in the crook of his arm and escorting her back towards the beanstalk.

R&R, people!

Follow me on Twitter: Annaelle_P