Author's Note: The following story is the result of a singularly nagging thought that has tinkering around my mind since 3x21 first aired. Yes, that was two years ago – and yes, it does seem like quite a long time to wait to write a story. The truth is quite simple. I've been procrastinating. The fact of the matter was that although I had an idea for a story, I couldn't figure out what I would ultimately do with it. After two years of waiting for some form of mystical intervention to guide me, I have decided that I won't ever be able to figure out where I am going with this story if I don't start writing it. So, here we all are my dear readers, the lot of you watching with mild curiosity as I fling myself off the deep end, and all of us wondering if I'll figure out a way to scramble out of the whole I've dug for myself. Lovely times, eh?

Anyways, I hope you guys like this very short prologue. Please review and tell me what you all think. It would be nice to know if you guys are interested in reading this. It might provide my imagination the necessary motivation to figure this story out rather than to allow it to swallow me whole.

Spoilers: This story takes place during the time travel episode in season three, and goes AU from there. I can't promise that anything from later episodes won't crop up, but I'll be sure to add in any extra spoiler warnings necessary once I have a better idea of where I am going with this.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Captain Hook knocked back his sixth shot of rum of the night. He smirked as he noticed one of his deckhands making off with a short red-haired wench of ill repute. The brunette sitting at his left trailed her fingers across his chest, teasing the hair there in a manner she no doubt deemed to be quite seductive. Hook smirked as the blonde to his right refilled his cup and he gave her a good frisking for her troubles. The little trollop simpered, and was no doubt about to invite him up to her chambers when his attentions wandered. The brunette, apparently dissatisfied that her blonde friend had garnered his favorable attentions, began to nip at his jawline, trying to regain her favor. He chuckled, and angled his face towards the brunette, giving her a smouldering kiss which left the blonde pouting in dismay. His crew and several other patrons hollered in approval as the embrace grew heated. So much so that Hook wondered whether the brunette or the men were more disappointed when he broke off the embrace in favor of knocking back another shot of rum. To his right, the blonde had grown stiff, though she ought not to be too upset. He had every intention of escorting both women back to his ship for a nightcap.

It seemed that his decision to make an unscheduled stopover for provisions had proved to be a particularly fruitful one. The Jolly Roger had barely been docked at port for an hour before word of a royal wedding had reached the pirates ears. The news suited Hook quite well, for word had also reached him that King Midas, father of the bride to be, had prepared a vessel stocked with treasure, and would presently be sending it to King George for his daughter's dowry. The vessel in question was expected to set sail three days hence, and Hook had every intention of intercepting it along the way. Dear old George didn't know it yet, but he would never get his hands on that particular hoard.

The brunette giggled, and began once more nipping at his jawline. Distracted, he tightened his hold on the brunette, giving her the illusion that she still held his interest. Not that he had been interested in her to begin with. She, like her blonde friend, was nothing more than a typical bar wench. They all acted much in the same manner. Their airs were commonplace, and their charms all but non-existent. It was quite clear that they were only good for one thing and one thing alone. The fact remained that they were hardly any better than common whores, and Hook had little doubt that they had more than once received payment for services that they would have performed freely. Nonetheless, it would not due to be aloof, and discourage his entertainment for the night.

Giving the brunette as salacious grin, he picked up the dice and was about to roll his turn when he was startled by the voice of a siren. "What are you boys playing?"

Hook looked up, somewhat gobsmacked to find an extremely attractive blonde smiling seductively down at him, though he managed to hide his shock quite well. As he took in the enchantress' features, his thoughts scattered altogether, and he couldn't quite seem to gather them long enough to make heads or tails of the situation. He was perplexed by her presence in this tavern. She was a truly stunning creature, the likes of which one could not find in such a rundown ramshackle of a place.

Hook felt the brunette who had hitherto occupied him stiffen at his side, and the simpering blonde idiot to his left dug her nails into his arm. But Killian hardly noticed them. He was lost in a sea of vibrant green, eyes locked with those of the enchantress. What little sexual attraction the two wenches sitting beside him had managed to inspire in him had abruptly withered in the presence of the green-eyes beauty.

The blonde leaned down further, arching her back and forcing her breast to strain against her corset all the more as the seductive curl of her lips deepened in victory.

She knew she had him.

Not to be outdone, Killian appraised the mysterious enchantress with a roving eye, and gave her a salacious smirk.

Two hours later, Captain Hook found himself in the most peculiar of situations. Awareness had begun to seep back in, and as he attempted to pick himself up from his own bloody chamber floor after having been struck down. He stumbled forward and caught himself on his desk. Hook eventually managed to stagger his way to his bed and let himself fall down onto the mattress.

He took a moment to gather his bearings, trying to clear his mind of the effects of the copious amounts of rum he imbibed early that evening. Several moments passed, and he came to the sobering conclusion that the rum had not affected his cognitive abilities as much as he would care to convince himself it had. He had returned to the Jolly Roger in the company of a blonde siren. The very thought of her set his blood flowing south and his lips tingling in recollection. Her memory was vivid and incontestable. Just as was the memory of finding himself faced against an imposter bearing his countenance, glaring at his in unrestrained fury as he struck him down…

What was it that Smee had said as he had boarded his ship?

That something was not quite right?

Not quite right indeed.

Author's Note: Well, there you have it, short and sweet. More than anything this chapter is meant to act as a teaser of sorts. But I think you guys have enough to get the idea of where I am going with this. Please be sure to review and let me know what you all think. Thank you.