"Swan! Swan!"

She was walking away. Leaving him here, in a giant's castle, chained up like an animal while she walked away with the only hope he had left tucked into her purse.

"You would do this to me? To me?" He screamed at her. "You miserable – you demanded the truth and I gave it! I offered you my help and you took it! I turned my back on Cora for you, Swan – for you! Do you have any idea what she's capable of, what she'll do to me for aiding you? She'll rip my heart out of my chest and make me watch as she destroys it, if I'm lucky! And I chose you anyway! I chose you, Swan – and this is how you repay me?!"

Hook yanked at the manacle again, in anger and rising panic. It held; of course it bloody held.

At the sound, though, she stopped, a few paces away, though she kept her back to him. Her shoulders were rigid and one hand kept clenching and unclenching into a fist.

"I gave you every honesty," he said, more quietly but no less intensely. "I couldn't best you with lies and trickery and you know full well I'm not lying now. Cora – she, she wanted me to win you, she wanted me to ply you for information about your world. And have I done that? Have I? Have I asked you one question about your realm, demanded any secrets from you? You know I haven't."

Her head ducked for a second; in that cavernous chamber Hook could swear he heard her swallowing. Her breath was harsh in the silence.

"You know I haven't," he pleaded. "You know this is wrong; I saw your face. You know I've done nothing to deserve this from you."

"I can't," he heard her say. She still refused to look at him, and his anger returned, hot in his chest.

"Can't what?" he demanded. "Can't trust? Can't keep faith with someone who's bloody well earned it?" Killian jerked his arm again, fighting the urge to thrash his way free, and saw her flinch as the heavy chain rattled. "You can't do that, but you've no trouble turning your back on someone who's come this far with you? Is it really so easy for you to just abandon me here?" he said, his voice harsh, and she flinched again at the word. "Tell me something, love, is it really me you can't–"

"Dreams," she blurted, and Killian stopped short. "It's – they –" Swan stopped, caught her breath. "Dreams… mean something. Here. Right?"

Well, that was certainly unexpected, he thought, feeling the anger wash out of him in a rush.

"You mean, in this realm?" he asked, warily. The manacle weighed heavily on his wrist, and he flexed his fingers.

The girl still kept her back to him, but her head turned a little, and she nodded hesitantly. Wary as a woodland creature, she was. Like she was cocking one ear toward him.

"They can, sometimes," he said slowly, feeling his way. "Or so I've always been told. You're supposed to be able to tell, when it's one of that sort. Can't say whether the tales have the right of it; if they do, then I've never had one, myself."

"I, um," Swan ran a hand through her hair, "these… I – months." She glanced at him, away, at the floor, away again. Had he thought of her as wary? It was more like trapped, the way her gaze darted about. Looking for escape. "I've been… but only pieces, I-I didn't – and… and this. Parts of it are – familiar."

Oh, tread carefully here, mate.

"Emma," he said softly, pitching his voice low. "Would you look at me, love? Please."

Finally, finally she turned around – and Fortune help him, she was shaking. He drew himself up in shock. One of the toughest bints he'd ever had the pleasure of meeting, hell, one of the very few, man or woman, to best him fair and square – and she was actually standing there shaking, quivering with – what? Terror?

What the hell had she seen?

"You're saying… you've had dreams – of this?" Deliberately, slowly, Killian took a step back, holding his arms out a little. Not a threat, he was telling her, nothing here to harm you. She didn't answer, blinking rapidly and looking back and forth between him and the chain, now slack and swinging between his wrist and the stone. "I can't make you tell me," he said quietly. "You've got what we came for," and he hoped that 'we' wasn't a misstep, "and I certainly can't keep you here. But if you think you've no choice, if you really believe that you have to leave me like this… I'd like to at least know why."

Her breath left her in a rush, her eyes shut tight, and she shuddered. He could see it on her face, the moment Swan decided that yes, she owed him that much.

Thank Providence.

I don't know how it works... I had this great idea for a fic to cheer myself up and then while I was writing it, this jumped into my head instead. Enjoy - and remember, writers crave reviews like pirates crave gold.