He stood outside the door for a moment. There was nothing extraordinary to see, no marker with her name. Just a few gold numbers ... 311. One of many, of hundreds of nearly identical apartments in this horrid city. Did he dare hope this one might be different?
It had been one year, one year out of the hundreds he had now lived. A drop, a moment really. Or that's how it should have felt, if there was anything remotely logical about it.
Pain was nothing new.
Losing a hand, a lover, a brother ... it changes a man. Though he could claim no tolerance to it even after all this time. He hadn't become quite so fond of rum until her, of course. Until his Milah. Then he chose the cowards path, the numbing influence of rum to get him through the day, dreams of revenge to get him through the night.
Not that he hadn't needed a numbing painkiller before Milah... His brother had been his first weakness. A brother's love leaving a soft vulnerable spot on his heart, ripped to shreds as Liam died in his arms. No one should have to go through that even once, but the magic of Neverland had saved Liam, and Neverland's cruelty lay in letting them think they had escaped before stealing him back again. And so that soft spot burned him alive; an anguished fire that destroyed a naval officer and forged a pirate. He embraced his new persona, his ship, his crew and the freedom of the sea. He built a protective wall around his heart, and it began to grow cold. And he survived.
Then he met her. Killian had not expected her to be any different than any other woman in a seaport tavern, they were all pretty much the same...after all, nice girls did not frequent seaside taverns to mingle with pirates. Milah had spark, though, and a free spirit. She shone with color against the monochromatic backdrop of the tavern. He spoke to her of the wind, how it lifted you from the deck and carried your soul to distant lands. Told her of jungles so dense you could see no more than a hand's stretch forward. Of waters so clear you could watch the crustaceans build their homes fathoms below in the sand while nearby mountains growled with barely contained fire. He told her of birds adrift in aerial currents guiding him from island to island. A life restrained only by the beauty of the present and inspired by the endless potential of the future.
She was a woman trapped, bound to a husband who would not allow her to start fresh somewhere new, where no one would know. Where their son could grow up without being the son of a coward. She was also bound to the child, this one a voluntary imprisonment. How could she fail to be enthralled by his tales? She came to the bar night after night to hear his stories and he was equally enthralled by her. Her fire warmed his heart and whispered in his ear, Perhaps you don't have to be alone.
She was a married woman, and so he was almost relieved when her coward of a husband finally showed up. Until he saw the child and hatred bloomed in his soul. Not against the child, against the simpering, smirking man who brought a child into a bar to guilt his wife into coming home. A man who made no attempt to deserve this woman; who instead simply bound her to him with the child she loved. Milah had asked Rumplestiltskin for freedom, for all of them, to go away as a family, see the world ... to see something. He refused her as always, and that night Milah came to Killian, begging him to take her away, to grant her the freedom of his stories. "What will you do," he had asked her, "if he chooses to fight for you?" She hadn't answered but he knew.
Killian himself had started the rumors that he had kidnapped Milah. The one comfort that they could offer Bae, that he would not grow up thinking that she had abandoned him. And it gave Milah's husband an chance to fight for her. He refused, even when he thought she had been kidnapped against her will, Rumplestiltskin would not fight for her freedom.
They had underestimated Rumplestiltskin, though they would not realize it for many years. When he reappeared as the Dark One, Killian realized his life was now forfeit. The man was still a coward and he did not challenge someone if he thought there was the possibility of getting hurt. There was no dueling the Dark One, no winning against a man who could be anywhere he wanted at any time. So he told the crocodile that his Milah was dead, and hoped the carnage would end with him. Milah had made Killian's heart soft again, which he became all too aware of when the dark one decided to stick his hand through his chest. He thought that had been bad. If he had known what was coming he would have begged for death then and there. Damn her. Damn her for being too brave to let him die alone, as he should have. She was clever, though, and she thought they could outwit the Dark One. She forgot that not all men were like Killian Jones, not all men cared for good form.
He had never truly thought she was in danger. He was a bit surprised that he was still alive, but Rumpelstiltskin was still her husband, the father of her child, he wouldn't hurt her. And perhaps he wouldn't have, if only she hadn't told the Dark One that she had never loved him. Then everything moved too fast. He was screaming her name and fighting his way to her as she fell . Maybe the Dark One wouldn't have killed her, if she hadn't whispered I love you. He hardly felt it when the crocodile took his hand, he wouldn't feel the physical wounds until later. The fire had returned, and this time it destroyed Killian Jones and Hook emerged.
Revenge was everything now, all that was left of his mangled heart. He started building his wall again, but fate had no such easy plans for Hook. It sent her son to him. Fate sent Bae and when Killian looked into his eyes he saw her. Bae was the son of the man who had murdered his love, but he had her eyes, her spirit. He shouldn't have been surprised that Bae was not exactly thrilled upon discovering Milah's portrait. Killian had thought that perhaps he could live for something other than revenge, but it wasn't to be. Bae thought Hook had destroyed his family and killed his mother. When the lost boys took him away Hook froze his heart. For good this time. Revenge and death were all that were left to him now, and if he could accomplish them in that order, it was the best he could possibly hope for.
Pain was nothing new. But fear, fear was new. Almost nostalgic, actually. It had been decades...centuries, since fear had any real grasp on him. Fear becomes oddly unnecessary when one has nothing left to lose. For 300 years, Hook thought of nothing but grief and revenge and let his heart stay frozen. It was wounded, and the ice protected it from the final blow that would destroy it, crush it to dust like hers.
He wasn't entirely certain when it began to thaw again. There was a moment of worry when he and Emma faced the Giant, a flicker of pain when she deserted him. Most of it was an act, of course, and he told himself that all of it was. It was safer not to think about it. Then suddenly, as he sailed away from Storybrook, he felt a disquiet in the pit of his stomach. The feeling was so foreign that he almost didn't recognize it for what it was. Fear. Real and honest and centered around the insufferable, suicidal woman he had left behind. It clawed at his insides and he clasped the wheel with a white-knuckled hand.
Fear.
God, no...
The crocodile had asked him if he had given up on his revenge, forced him to say out loud that something was more important than revenge, more important than her. He was still disgusted by the creature that had taken Milah from him. Rumplestiltskin said that he had killed her because she had crushed his heart. Killian knew what a crushed heart looked like and that laughing smirking crocodile was no victim. "I suppose so." Fairly innocuous as phrases go, but this one was the single hardest phrase Killian had ever had to say.
He focused on Emma instead. He had a new beacon, a new purpose. He would get Henry back to his mother, and do whatever it took to protect Emma and her family. Even his tattoo took on a new meaning. He had placed it there as a reminder that the only thing that mattered was his revenge, for Milah. Now when he looked at it it told him to keep Emma safe. He had not forgotten that pain, he never would. The two people he had loved most had perished in his arms. He couldn't do it again, couldn't survive it again. So Emma had to be safe. It had only gotten worse, the clawing desperate fear when he realized that Emma was going to Neverland, as he watched her parents weep beside her limp body after the mermaid attack, as she led the way into the dark jungle and in the recesses of Dark Hollow... Somehow they did survive Neverland, but there is always another crisis, another danger. Standing at the town line the fear returns as the world conspires to separate them once more. She was safe at least, but she was gone.
It has been one year. Out of the hundreds he had lived.
He stood outside the door for a moment.
Did he dare hope this one might be different?
AN: I always appreciate reviews! I've also written an almost prequel to this story called SlipKnot from before the curse. I say almost prequel because you don't need to read that before reading this.
AN: Angstier than my usual style... but what can I say...His character breaks my heart. He's not exactly a knight in shinning armor, but after a backstory like his, I can hardly believe he still functions at all.