Double Heart

Apparently my angst muse has emerged and demanded this story be written. Below you will find my take on the infamous "sleeping curse" and "true love's kiss" themes, with a decidedly Captain Swan twist. Warning: This first chapter contains violence and torture, and while it is initially rated a "T", it's a hard one, and it will eventually become an "M". I've practically finished it though, so I won't leave anyone hanging for long ;) Thanks for reading guys!

Chapter 1

The hours passed like days.

The days passed like hours.

His arms were numb yet again, bound tightly in twine to a ring well above his head. The abrasive rope dug into his flesh mercilessly, tight enough that it didn't even matter he had no left hand beyond his wrist to keep the cords in place. The numbness that had settled in his bones was a small mercy.

The thin shirt that still clung to his shoulders offered no warmth from the dank chill of the cellar, and the meager light that occasionally filtered through the door in the ceiling was the only sign that time was still passing, that the sun still rose and set, that he still lived.

All in all though, Killian supposed he should count his pathetic blessings since that the red-headed witch didn't seem too keen on torture of the physical sort. Or, at least not the kind that involved screws and whips and other sharp implements. He'd endured far worse (he told himself constantly) and survived in far worse conditions. Other than the one time she'd pressed a blade to the inside of his arm and collected his blood in a bowl beneath it, she hadn't even touched him. He wasn't even bound the entire time, allowed to pace the small confines of a wrought-iron and earthen cell every once in a while. And, while she seemed quite keen on learning the Charming family's location, when he refused to answer her inquiries, the worst she'd normally do is leave him in the dark, bound to the wall. He was getting less and less food, and recently she'd stopped bringing him water, but it really wasn't so bad. It wasn't anything at all compared to his own thoughts, the dreams. Himself.

Really, the only difference between this particular stint of imprisonment and the numerous occasions before was that his crew wasn't around to bail him out…that he knew no one was coming for him this time.

No, no the blasted gods be damned. He chased the thought from his mind and went back to hanging his weight from the ropes around his arms, testing and wearing on the strength of the metal ring above him. It was embedded in the earth wall at least a few meters up, and it must have been anchored bloody deeply too. He'd been working at it since the first time her magic snaked the ropes around him and through the metal loop. It hurt like hell, his shoulders and nerves screaming from the pressure, but if he could just widen the hole surrounding it enough to yank the iron free from the earth when she comes in the cell…she would bloody well snap my neck with her magic before I even managed two steps towards her.

He resisted the urge to scream out profanities as the familiar sense of hopelessness threatened to dissuade his increasingly uncomfortable efforts. He was making progress, the ring was definitely looser, and damnit he needed a goal. Something to work towards, something to fight. He wasn't going to give up, even if…

The set of heavy wooden doors that led into the cellar suddenly opened above him. What he imagined must have been late afternoon sunlight cast long shadows across the dirt floor. He felt the rush of frozen air as a sharp and breathtakingly agonizing wall of tiny blades. He clamped his jaw down hard to keep his teeth from chattering. No weakness, you never show weakness unless it can get you something…

"My, what a chilly day. You should have dressed more warmly, Captain," the witch chided, her deceptively soft and lilting voice grating against his ears. The gaudy green jewel at her throat gleamed dully as her magic lit the lights that dangled from the ceiling in white glass balls. He immediately flinched against their brightness.

"Well, my dear, if you'd let a man have his coat then it wouldn't be an issue," he replied, forcing his lids open in a tight squint.

"Oh, I wouldn't want you to get too comfortable. I daresay you won't be here much longer."

"Growing tired of me already?" he said, slipping into the easy, emotionless banter. "I must be doing something wrong. What a shame. I do hate to leave a woman unsatisfied."

"Oh no, it's not you," she answered, the iron bars before him disappearing with a wave of her hand. "It's Emma, actually. I'm afraid she's disappointed me greatly. Who knew she was just as heartless as the rest of us?" The woman sighed, stopping just in front of him before dragging a red nail from his collar bone to the point where the last two remaining button of his shirt still held the useless garment over his shoulders. Her name brought a surge of emotion that wouldn't have done a damn thing to save him, so he let the witch…Zelena, become his focus. He stepped however closer he could to her, arms straining behind him, and was rewarded when her eyes widened fractionally in surprise.

"Come now, love. Don't be like this." He dropped his voice to a low murmur. "I'm sure you could find some other purpose for me. I really don't know where they're holed up, but I can find them for you. I can be…quite useful."

"Hm, so you keep saying." She watched him, bright green – manically green eyes dead-set on his own, the space between them practically nonexistent. "Though, I'd consider your position more carefully, Captain. I might actually take you up on one of your generous offers before I'm through, and you'd be utterly helpless to stop me." She winked once before moving to the left, walking around him in a circle. "But, sadly I'm not here to flirt with you today, love. The time for that has passed. Instead, I want to give you something." She stopped circling. "I realized this…situation hasn't exactly been comfortable for you, and I honestly do regret that. I hate being the bad guy, I really do. So, in the interest of my conscience, I thought I'd let you see your Emma one last time before I cleaned out my cellar."

Killian's chest momentarily constricted, immediately fearing that Emma was here, that Zelena had managed to find her, that she'd been hurt or –

"No need to look so alarmed," she smiled. A cloud of green smoke appeared above her right hand, clearing to reveal a small mirror. The handle and frame were gracefully engraved in the shape of thorned vines and roses. Pale, elegant gold surrounded the reflection of his gaunt, slightly blue and unshaven face.

"I don't have her. Not yet, anyway," she continued. "But, with this mirror, you can see whatever it is that your heart desires. All you have to do is ask, Killian. Ask it to show you Emma, and you will see her. She'll be right in front of you, here and now. Whatever she's doing, wherever she is, the veil of space between you will be lifted. You can die in peace, knowing that she's still safe."

Killian stared back at his hollowed reflection, her words pressing on his brain and heart like a massive anchor, dragging him back into the thoughts he'd tried so hard to banish – the realizations that left his future bleaker than it ever was before, questions about whether it really would be so terrible to die. No one was meant to live as long as he had…hundreds of empty, lonely years. Thousands upon thousands of rum-filled nights, naught but a cold bed and ghosts to ease the hole inside him – it had all nearly driven him insane before. The prospect of facing even one more night alone was nearly enough to shatter him. And yet…

"So, out of the goodness in your admittedly wicked heart, you'd like to ease a dead man's fears. Why?" he growled, all pretense of cooperation dissolving as he struggled to find something beyond the pain to focus on. He didn't want Emma to come for him, he never did. Despite the traitorous thoughts and scenarios that his dreams would bring to life in agonizingly-realistic detail, this was the last place he ever wanted to see her. She was safe with her parents, with her son. If that was all she needed to be happy, truly happy, then so be it. If this really was going to be it, if Zelena was truly done with him, he just wished like hell she'd get on with it already.

"I told you, Killian," the witch answered, smoothing the hair away from his eyes in a disgustingly gentle fashion, "it's a gift. You've caused me less trouble than I ever could have imagined, and I genuinely have enjoyed our conversations, even if you've been less than cooperative. Let me do this for you at least, since we both know I can't let you go back to them. They probably don't even want you back, so it really is better this way. Just ask for her, Killian. Ask to see Emma."

"What makes you think I want to see her at all, anyway?" he said, forcing a bitter laugh from his chest. "They've left me here to die. I'm quite happy never seeing the likes of them again."

Zelena's gaze hardened ever so slightly, but in a blink her eyes were again kind and soft. "I know it must be hard for you, all alone, even after everything you've done for them. I'm sure Emma was at least fond of you, and perhaps one day you might have weaseled your way into her heart. You just didn't have enough time. I mean, look at you. A pirate who should have been centuries dead falling for the Savior, of all people. A princess. It's the stuff of…well, fairytales."

"Aye," he admitted, "it certainly was." He felt the corners of his mouth tilt into a small smile, the memory of Emma's lips and passion warming him ever so slightly, before the grin slipped altogether from his face. "But we're not in the Enchanted forest, Witch, and villains don't get happy endings. Or haven't you heard?"

Zelena's spine snapped straight, her eyes widening and expressing turning positively murderous. "Is that so?"

"I'm no fool. I know that once I ask for Emma in that mirror, you'll likely be able to see her as clearly as I, along with where she is. If this was your game all along, then you've lost, Witch. I'd die a thousand times if it meant protecting her for a while longer."

Sharp nails were suddenly digging into the underside of his chin as she gripped his face, her boney fingers possessing a surprising strength that threatened damage.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Dying a martyr for the woman you love. How very heroic, Captain, if not pathetic."

"I'm no hero, love," he ground out. "I'm a selfish bastard, and one with nothing left to lose."

Crack.

He registered the immediate pain and burst of stars on a black canvas before another crack followed, and then another. His ears were ringing, a warm, steady trickle rolled down his chin, and he realized with a heavy sense of dread that the only thing she'd actually hit him with was her hand. It had felt like an iron bar. He could barely take a breath before several of his hairs were parted roughly from his scalp as she yanked his head backwards.

"Alright then, Captain. We'll do this the hard way. That mirror was crafted by the fairies of the Enchanted forest and comes with very specific instructions. It can only show the user something or someone they truly love, and with that declaration you've just spouted for our friend the Savior, you're my ticket to finding her. Either say her name into the glass, or I begin dismembering you."

"So keen to get your pretty clothes bloodied, Witch?" he huffed, the words thick between his swelling lip. "And here I thought you were above all that."

He wasn't immune to the fear spiking through him, the panic and hysteria threatening to consume everything. He felt his body shaking, the sweat dripping down his brow, but there was something stronger behind it all, something shining and bright and good. Instead of chasing Emma's face from his mind as he had so many times before, he brought the best preserved image he possessed to the forefront. Half-lidded eyes, wet lips, halo of mussed golden hair, fists gripping him so damn tight as she caught her breath – the breath he had stolen.

He felt the nerves in his arms suddenly burst back to life in breath-stealing agony as the rope around them tightened further and began hefting his feet off the floor. His was barely on his tip-toes, and then totally suspended, sounds spilling unbidden from him as he struggled for air, clarity, Emma's face slipping away from him.

"I wonder how long it would take for your arms to pop from their sockets," the witch mused, circling his now twitching body again. "Pirates like to gamble, yes? What's your wager? How long?"

It was too hard to speak. It was too hard to breathe. He wanted to scream and scream, call her the absolute worst names imaginable from all the different worlds he'd traveled. He wanted to spit his blood at her and kick out with his feet. He wanted to break the bloody mirror that now hung suspended in the air before him, his warped and twisted reflection the only thing he could see.

As things were, however, he could only grunt out two words.

"Long. Enough."

"For what?" she laughed, a hand patting his leg. "Long enough for Emma to come and save you? I'd wager not. I think we both know that's not going to happen now."

He felt her abnormally strong hands grip around his leg a second before she jerked downward, earning another unbidden cry from his mouth.

"Ooo, I do like that sound. Shall we try the other side? Or perhaps you'd like to make it stop? Just say her name, dear, and the pain disappears. Like magic."

He didn't say a word. He didn't.

"You really are going to make this hard, aren't you?" he heard her sigh, thought excitement was decidedly bleeding into her voice. He willed his mind back to Emma, Emma, Emma, Emma.

She pulled Rumplestiltskin's dagger from under her cape, waving it before his eyes, beyond the mirror. The blade was so sharp he didn't even really feel it until seconds later, when what initially felt like a feather swiping across his torso blossomed into something unfathomably deep and searing.

"Just say her name, Killian. Say it and all this will be over."

He closed his eyes, and endured.

Throughout it all, however, even as his mind threatened to leave him, he noted that she did little more than spill his blood and tighten the ropes. The witch, for all her acclaimed wickedness, was damn squeamish, hardly amounting to the blokes that lived in the dank dungeons of the world's darkest corners. Despite her threats, he was still intact – or close enough. He couldn't help the absurd laughter that suddenly bubbled in his chest as she dragged the flat side of the blade over his ribs, the metal icy on his now bared skin.

"What's so funny, love?" the witch hissed, nicking him. He didn't even flinch, the abrasion hardly more than a scratch compared to the others.

Killian leaned his head back as far as he could, struggling for air so he could speak. "Would I…" huff "happen to be your first time?"

Yes, his sanity had surely left him. Her abrupt response was to suddenly release the ropes around his arms. He immediately came crashing to the floor, his numb limbs incapable of doing anything to break his fall. He crumpled on his right side, head banging the packed earthen floor hard. He felt the skin split along his right temple as more stars danced in his vision.

Before he could regain enough sense or breath to do anything about his new position, the earth around him cracked and split into fissures. He did try to kick away from the gnarled roots that began constricting themselves around his body, fighting frantically when they tightened around the fresh, open wounds and his arms, but it was positively useless.

"Now let's get a decent look at you, Captain," Zelena said as she crouched beside him, head tilting to the side in a decidedly reptilian gesture. To hell with sanity.

"You and the Crocodile must get on well, being from the same genus and all. Tell me, does your skin really turn green – "

His words were overcome with a fresh gasp as the roots around his body tightened considerably.

"My you certainly are a glutton for punishment," she scowled, wrapping her hand around the underside of his jaw. "And no, to answer your previous question. You are most certainly not my first. Fear not, Captain. I'll have you screaming for Emma by the time we're through, and not in the good way, either."

He would have raised a brow at her familiar phrasing had his throbbing head not protested so strongly.

She released his face, standing to pace beside his prone form. "But I knew from the beginning that physical pain wasn't something you'd respond to very cooperatively. You've suffered much in your years as a fugitive and pirate, and while most men would be blubbering sods by now – you seem just as…cheeky, as ever. What can we do to up the stakes?"

"You could always just let me go. See how that goes for you," he said, his words thicker and harder to phrase than ever. The blood loss was beginning to take its toll, and it didn't help matters that the feeling was returning in agonizing waves back to his arms and hand.

His eyes flicked over to her as she abruptly stopped pacing, her face lighting up in an obvious moment of epiphany.

"Perhaps…" she mumbled, another cloud of green smoke billowing once more from her hand. When it cleared, he saw that she was holding a thin needle, the tip coated in some sort of black substance. Despite himself, Killian couldn't help the way anxiety sped his heartbeat.

"Perhaps…" she said again, turning towards him, "we make a deal. Do you know what this is?"

He focused on the needle in her hand, Princess Aurora's face suddenly flashing before his eyes.

"No bloody clue," he answered as nonchalantly as possible, even though he could feel the trepidation and biting fear begin to bloom in earnest. Fucking hell, she couldn't possible intend…

"It's something your friend, my dear sister Regina created. Her very own, specially brewed sleeping curse. One prick with this needle, and all your worries disappear into an eternity of fiery black rooms. No rest, no peace…nothing but solitude and anguish. Sounds thrilling, doesn't it?"

"Perfectly exhilarating," he replied, his body moving against the roots harder, more desperately. "But what the hell does it have to do with me?"

"I imagine you've already put that together, Captain. It's really very simple. Ask the mirror to show you Emma, or face an eternity under Regina's sleeping curse. And, remember, with no true love to kiss and wake you, it really would be an eternity lost in that wretched abyss. It takes more than this one-sided puppy-dog love of yours to break something as powerful as this." She stepped closer to him, and he flinched away – no, bloody recoiled.

"See? I think you understand perfectly," she cooed, stroking his hair, letting the tip of the needle drag lightly across his chest. "I won't ask twice, and even if you don't tell me, it would only be a minor inconvenience. I have no qualms about putting you under. It would only delay my plans for a few days at most. So, do what you do best, Killian. Make the right decision for you."

An eternity…forever trapped in some hellish world while his body rotted away. His soul would never know peace. He would never know peace. Never again to see his brother, Milah, Bae…Emma. He closed his eyes, blocking out the sneering witch's face and picturing his lovely Swan –

No, not his. She never really was his. Gods know he didn't want to tame her, but it would have been nice to hold her just once. To see her smiling up from beneath him.

Water leaked from the corner of his eyes, every ounce of fight gone and fled from his body.

"Get on with it, then," he said, voice barely managing a whisper. "I am quite curious as to what this terrifying new world holds in store for me. I love a good adventure."

Zelena was suddenly on her knees beside him, the needle poised perfectly above his heart. She was seething. Her eyes were wider than saucers, her white teeth clamped tightly down as they jutted out from her curled lips, veins bulging from her neck.

"You think I won't? Do you think this is a game you foolish, foolish man? I am about to banish you to the most wretched form of half-existence in all the realms, and you still mock me?"

"Not mock," he answered, bracing for the inevitable. Swallowing his last breath of air. "I'm flat out laughing, darling. On the inside, of course."

He felt her body tense, poised for the plunge, when suddenly something loud and distinctly metal slammed down across the cellar doors above them until they nearly caved.

Emma…

Zelena gripped his face and turned his head until they were forehead to forehead, the assault on the door pausing as he heard Regina's distinct "Out of my way."

"Oh, I don't think so, Killian," Zelena whispered, hovering right above his lips as her arm tensed again. "No one laughs at me."

With a wicked grin, and a sudden, intense ray of light bursting through the now broken doors, Zelena plunged the needle into his heart.

He was gone long before Emma's insistent hands could fall across his cold skin.