Author's Note: Ok, this fellow fascinates me, and with his backstory soon to be revealed, I just had to take a shot at this. This is my best guess at Hook's past; a sort of bet against myself to see how close I can get... or to see if I like my version better. I may throw in some more "flashbacks" as future chapters... maybe not. We'll see. (Oh, and please review the good, the bad, and the ugly. It's been a while since I've written, so I'm rather curious to get your feedback.)

"Get back to work, Lad!"

The boy snapped up his mop from where he'd been leaning against the cabin in a rush and began hastily dragging it back and forth. Scales and bits and red-tinged water swished away from his feet. The moment the First Mate looked away though, his movements became sluggish. He'd had just about as much of this as he could stand. Do that, Lad! Fix that, Lad! Run up the mast, Lad! Never a word of encouragement or praise, just an unending list of errors and tasks that he'd not done quickly enough. Then there were the practical jokes at his expense: a dime a dozen, and the hard biscuits and salted pork for days on end. Oh, and the smell. That truly sealed the deal for him.

His eyes searched for the shoreline that was supposedly ahead... somewhere, but with the haze there just wasn't any hope of making out anything too distinct off the bow.

"Bloody-!" He hopped precariously onto one foot, bringing the other up and spotting the bright metal of a fishing hook buried in his bare heel. It was all he could do to keep the tears off his face, but he didn't have a death wish. He wasn't about to cry like a girl in front of the whole crew. Instead he bit out a few of the more colorful curses he'd been practicing and snarled, "Liam! I need a hand!"

A ways away a slightly older boy poked his head out from behind a stack of barrels, his dark hair in a mess. Whatever Liam had thought to say dissolved though in an instant as he cringed. "What have you done to yourself now, Killian?"

"I've stepped on another bloody hook!" he snapped, working hard to keep his balance on one foot as the ship swayed. When Thean drew near, the two boys seated themselves on the deck, the older studying the younger's foot and drawing out a knife. Killian clinched his eyes shut and looked away, biting his lip hard as the hook was cut out.

"You've got to be more careful," the elder chided as he bound up the little wound, but Killian's lip began to quiver.

"I'm sick of it," he groaned. "I hate this boat. I hate the captain, the crew, the whole bloody lot of it! When are we leaving Thean? When are we getting out of this hell. I can't keep doing this much more."

"Shhh!" There was a long pause as Liam glanced around for anyone who might've been listening. It seemed they'd been granted a reprieve though. None of them wanted to be responsible for patching up a child's hurts. "Killian, you're just going to have to get used to it. There's no were else for us to go."

"Sure there is! We can go on land, we can get work there. We'll be our own men, not living by the old Mackrel's every word."

"And do what? You can't just go over there and get a job. You have to be good at something. Do you know how to farm? Raise an animal? Smithy? Chop wood? Neither do I. Sailing's the only bloody thing we know, and it's what we have to do! It's that or starve. So get back on your feet and keep at the deck, and for once, mind that you don't step on anything?"

The boys glared at each other for a long moment; dueling sets of blue eyes trying to make their point where words had failed. Killian was the first to glance down. Just as they began to stand and head their separate ways though; Killian snatched a fistful of Liam's shirt and pulled him right back down, a broad grin slathered across his face.

"Sailing's all we're good at? Fine! Then let's sail! But not on this schooner. We'll join the navy!"

"What?"

"We'll carry swords and learn to fight and go on grand adventures seeing places that no one's ever seen before and capture pirates and take their ships as prizes and rescue ladies. All the girls always stare when soldiers walk by!"

Liam frowned shook his head. "Killian... Killian! It's not going to happen. That life's even worse. You've seen how the deck-hands get treated on those ships."

"No, we'll be officers! And NO ONE will tell us what to do. We'll go to parties and drink good port when all the rest of the crew is drinking dreggy grog, have a room to ourselves and eat butter!"

"Killian!" Liam's shout finally seemed to stem the flow of Killian's enthusiasm as the boy stopped to stare at him. "It's never going to happen. Do you know why officers are rich? Because they were already rich. You have to buy a commission to be an officer in the King's Navy. Do you have that sort of money lying around? 'Cause I know I don't!"

Silence fell.

One of the deckhands started to eye them and the two boys scurried to their feet, throwing themselves back into their work, but before they left, Killian hissed a quick, "I'll get it... somehow."

That evening, after they'd finished their evening meal and all save the night crew were crawling into their hammocks, Killian found himself perched high in the rigging, watching the last of the sunlight fade over the horizon and playing the argument he'd had over and over in his mind. Liam just wasn't the same anymore. He was broken, hopeless, defeated. Just surviving was enough for him now, when it never had been before. The memories of a not-so-distant past, when they'd imagine slaying dragons and wining the praise of kings and doting damsels, stabbed at him. It was all their father's fault. He'd left them. Bloody coward. Bloody dishonorable worthless get! Left them to fend for themselves. Left Liam to try to be a parent before he was even finished being a boy, and Killian was so keen of it...

There was one thing the bloody villain had taught him though. Eyes lighting on the first star that poked through the deep blue, he found himself wondering if it was true. If there was actually something of value in anything the old man had ever said. He couldn't remember the first few words of it, but the rest slowly worked themselves out into a hushed mutter, "First star I see tonight. Wish I may, wish I might, have this wish I wish tonight. Please...we need a future."

Nothing happened.

Foolish. Of course it wouldn't hold true. It was just like everything else. He gave a long sigh and slid down the ropes. A few moments later, he was fast asleep in his hammock.

"Killian... Killian."

"What?" he asked groggily and blinked several times when he saw a woman in a glowing blue dress. She definitely hadn't been on board the ship earlier.

"Take this," she said, and handed him a small, dark gem that glowed a host of different colors. "When you make port, take a left on the first road you see after walking off the pier. Seven houses down, there will be a building with a green roof. A man lives there who would very much like to have this jewel. Bring it to him. You'll be doing him a great favor and he will reward you handsomely. Buy a future for both of you." In a bright flash, she was gone.

When Killian woke the next morning, he frowned to himself for a long moment before sticking his hand in his pocket and pulling out the bright gem. Brows rising, he stared at it, rubbed it between his fingers, even licked it to assure himself it was there. Then, all at once, he sprang up and shot up the ladder. "Liam!" he shouted, not caring that the other hands heard him. After all, his brother was running toward him, he held a gem in his hand, and the horizon showed land fast approaching. Killian grinned.