I've been obsessed with this random image I had watching last weeks penultimate episode of season 3, but this is a completely random one-shot and detail in canon isn't really something I give a damn about with. I just wrote it for fun because I've had enough of exams this week, but please review anyway.

Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon A Time, nor technically can I lay claim to the wonderfully dashing and adorable Captain Killian Jones in this situation.

Creeping mist endeavored to consume every glimpse of this charming nameless town. Charming mainly due to the number of taverns and such that lined the street's nearest port, and nameless only because the Captain currently tumbling over the oak porch of the bars and maidens in his most recent memory had no care to remember such a detail as a places name in the blissful state that led him consumed solely on the wonders of rum. With so many years of sailing through the seas to ports just like this at every destination, perhaps the added robbery thrown into the mix every now and then or some otherwise pirate like exercise, no place held a significant recollection when he'd wake up in the morning as to deserve the effort of remembering what it was called.

The dashing man stumbled, chip of wood descending into flight towards the ground as the tipped hook that protruded from where the pirate had once possessed a hand - before an encounter with a crocodile that was memorable even with the most hearty supply of alcohol available - etched a mark in the pathetic fence that lined barely a half of the entrance to the brothel he'd just been forced out of. He wasn't entirely sure why he had been ordered to move, they had been yelling a fair amount of reasons at him that he hadn't been paying attention too. But he'd put up a jolly good fight against them none the less, and Captain Hook fought dirty.

Here he was, however, stumbling away from the place with a dusty, stained bottle of a poison that even he wasn't sure the name of and if he had been any sort of decent man that would have been his sign that he had had plenty enough to drink and should return home; even if in his case that pertained specifically to be the magnificent vessel he adored to abide in. Yet that was a thought that he would never contemplate crossing his mind, for if pirates were organised or dedicated to one another enough to form something of a club or government party – stopping the consumption of rum for any reason what so ever would probably be a rule punishable by death. Instead the renowned Captain of the Jolly Roger staggered down the cleared rocky pathway that formed the main road of these bars and ignited in slurred laughter of baffled excitement at the sight of a lone tethered horse that stood but a few feet from him.

With a lazy slash at the rope that kept the horse stationary for how ever momentarily the owner had planned, the animal snorted and ruffled to acknowledge its freedom. Hook kept a jewelled hand on the neck of the mare, slipping in its place but maintaining the prevention of the steed dashing away before it could do anything – even if Hook balanced himself that way mainly for the purpose of stopping a tumbling collision between him and the horse's neck.

Somehow the pirate Captain's capability strained through the haze of a drink induced fog of the mind to the point that let him clamber a top of the stallion and he swayed upon its back for a moment in drunken hysterics as he told himself he was getting the hang of horse riding. After a joyous few minutes of kicking about a bit atop the unmoving animal, Hook found himself attempting something that finally made the horse startle and gallop. It was so sudden that the pirate fell forward for support over the creatures main and dropped the bottle of liquor behind him in a mourned smash, all those actions at once being what made the already consumed alcohol within jump in protesting surprise.

The fleeting journey was just that, it was rushing and liberating and rather enjoyable if you didn't slow down under the influences of alcohol. It was the giant bump in the road that brought it to its quick end; A crash and a thud and a different kind of rush of air for the pirate, one that didn't include a horse for stability underneath him. Hook hurtled to the ground long before he realised the horse had bucked over what it had hit. The fact he had hit something only being a deduction he was capable of due to the fact that he saw a small heap under where the horse was bolting from and the strangled cry of emotional torment that was called from nearby.

"TARDY!" Hook scrambled to his feet and stumbled in a feud with his bearings for a moment as another small, stout figure dashed towards the heap on the road, skidding with precession to kneel beside the unmoving form. "TARDY, NO!" the voice sobbed. Hook was reaching the point where he could accept the sickness of what he was convinced must be too much drink by now and was fleeting – albeit with numerous halts as he continued to struggle with balance – towards where his ship was anchored with the intention of collapsing down and forgetting about this whole ordeal completely.

The grieving figure above the corpse looked up to catch a glimpse of the Captain as he fled and his expression became grim and determined and focused. Stealthy the Dwarf vowed from then on that he would get revenge for his fallen brother and the rain that began to drizzle down did nothing to extinguish the fire of the anguish that had been ignited.

The bell to Granny's dinner sounded in glee as the entering citizen of Storybrooke started the noise. Killian glanced up from the counter stool-chair he had occupied as Swan headed towards him; as distractingly stunning and as captivatingly herself as always.

"Sorry I'm late." She apologised distractedly when her hand slid across the back of Killian's chair so she could swing around to sit beside him. This situation would have usually called for some snarky comment and smirk from the technically no longer captain but forever pirate that it was addressed to, even if Swan did look bothered by something that was serious - but everything was serious nowadays. And yet the silence that had crashed into the conversation behind them took him as rather distracting. The table of dwarves looked at each other sincerely, before Leroy raised his mug of coffee and announced soberly:

"For Tardy!" Because none of the seven dwarves would soon forget the two members of their family that they had lost. Emma had started on some new worrying development of the safety of this town but Hook was momentarily lost to the swirling of some ice murdering contraption the dinner included, lost in the past that his memories could not escape...and Mr Smee stared at the pirates vest from a window table in the corner.