Chapter One
Hooked
Hook sat on a fallen tree, waiting for dusk to fall. He'd returned from Neverland once more, in order to settle an old score.
He hadn't seen this land in nearly ten years. For the past decade, he'd pondered his encounter with the little imp, the Dark One… Milah's husband.
For ten years, Hook had reflected, recalled, remembered and pondered about that one man, Rumplestiltskin. At first, he'd hated the bastard! He'd hated the pathetic cripple in the bar for being cowed by his wife; he'd hated the snivelling coward on his deck, and he'd hated the nasty little creature the man had somehow become. And, above all, he hated him for Milah.
Rumplestiltskin had been a coward and a failure; a humiliation to the woman they'd both loved. The first time Killian had seen the runt, in the pub, he'd secretly commended the beggar for having the balls to retrieve his wife. The cruelty that had dripped from the woman's tongue hadn't deterred him, but surely had hurt him. But, that commendation turned to scorn as the man allowed his woman to abuse him so. He was weak; Hook hated weakness.
But then, he saw Baefire. The boy had witnessed what no child should; his mother disgracing his father. But Killian paid it no mind. It was Milah's business.
The second time he'd seen Rumplestiltskin, the little insect had snivelled and begged for his wife. He'd cried, for God's sake! The sight of the pathetic little man had disgusted him. How could a man be so weak? he'd thought. If he'd loved her, he'd fight for her! And when the whelp hadn't picked up the blade, it sickened him further; he wasn't even worth the effort to kill.
The last time he'd seen Rumplestiltskin, he was the Dark One. At first, he'd been curious, then annoyed. And when the bastard taunted him, he'd been pissed off.
But, when he'd ripped Milah's heart from her chest, he'd been consumed by blind rage. He'd promised her he'd take care of her! That he'd take her everywhere; that they'd be together always…
And the scaly little crocodile had cut off his hand. The pain and shock from Milah's death and the blade through his flesh was enough to keep him from going after the creature. Instead, he ran. He'd used the bean and ran like the coward he'd always thought Rumplestiltskin to be. But I was surviving! There was no way he'd – and it hit him. He realised that, just as the frightened, crippled peasant pleading for his wife would have no chance of winning a duel with him (for he certainly would not have played fair, in any circumstance), he had no chance at winning against the Dark One.
His heart skipped a beat, his chest tightened and his blood ran cold as the realisation struck. Now, when remembering the crying peasant on the deck of his ship, he knew how wretched he'd been.
So now, he waited. He waited for Rumplestiltskin to appear.
X
Even before the sun set, Rumplestiltskin knew someone awaited him in the Enchanted Forest. He could feel the pull of their heart, the desperation of their soul. He saw a snippet of their thoughts; a crying man, a dead woman – Milah. He knew who awaited him… but why?
Against his better judgement, he appeared in the forest, a little ways behind the pirate.
As he watched, the captain's shoulders hunched as he held his face in his hand, his hook resting over his knee. He knew the man wouldn't leave; he could feel it radiating from him.
He waited a few long moments, merely watching the pirate, waiting for any sign of trickery. When none were apparent, he finally showed himself, appearing before the man who'd stolen his wife.
"Well, well, well," he tease, placing his hands on his hips. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Captain Hook? Have you come to gut me? Perhaps another duel? Or… do you intend to rip out my heart?" He rolled his R on 'rip', a condescending tone meant to rile the pirate.
"No," came the soft reply. The man had yet to look up from his knees.
"You're not here for a deal…" mused the imp. "How may I…" he stopped, cut off by the look on the pirate's face when he finally met his gaze.
A long moment passed in silence, neither looking away.
"What is it, dearie? How may the Dark One aid such a prolific pirate?" his words were soft, but firm. The look on the other's face confused him.
"I… don't know."
X
Killian Jones, Captain Hook, pirate, plunderer, and gentleman lady-charmer… did not have the words to express his need to see Rumplestiltskin. He knew he'd come to settle past grievances, yet he didn't have the words; he didn't want to make himself look even more of a fool than he already had.
"You don't know?" He detected a slightly disbelieving tone. "You've come to waste my time? Is that your revenge? Then, bravo, dearie. You have succeeded." The little creature mockingly applauded him before turning to leave.
Before he knew what he was doing, Hook stood and reached out, grabbing Rumplestiltskin's wrist. "Wait!" he cringed at the pathetic desperation in his voice. "Wait," he repeated in a softer tone, not releasing the bony wrist.
X
He knew his departure would cause reaction… but this? The fool pirate was lucky he didn't cut off his other hand.
Looking over his shoulder, he saw the hesitant but determined look the man now sported.
"Tick, tock, dearie," he teased ad he turned to face Hook once more.
"I –" he cut himself off, looking down, seemingly unable to form the correct words. He knelt once more.
"I haven't got all night." He became impatient.
He removed his arm from the pirate's grip, waiting to see what the proud man would do. He still suspected some kind of trick or attack, but none came.
X
Hook still could not find a way to speak his mind. He stared at the ground under his knees for another long moment, before an idea hit him.
Slowly, he drew his sword, looking up to watch Rumplestiltskin's face, hoping he didn't perceive him as a threat.
Balancing the sword's tip on his hook, the grip in his open palm, Hook raised the weapon in offering to the man he'd so cruelly humiliated.
Another long, silent moment passed, their eyes locked until, finally, Hook bowed his head.
It was all he had.
X
Rumplestiltskin watched silently for another minute before speaking.
"What would I do with a sword?" he scrunched up his face, baring his teeth.
"I –" he cut off the response, holding up a hand.
"What do you want, pirate?" he narrowed his eyes, frustrated. "Speak, or I will leave."
X
Before he could think about the words spilling from his lips, Hook spoke.
"I was wretched," he spoke softly, bringing his sword down and meeting the other's dark gaze. He received no reply, so continued. "You… you had courage when searching for Milah that first night. Even when she insulted your honour, you stayed… you didn't become angry or raise your hand…
"I thought you were a coward, unable to stand up to your woman. But you were there for your son.
"And when you came to my ship, begging for her, I thought you pathetic… you refused to fight. And now, I realise it was survival. You knew you couldn't win. You refused because… one parent was better than none." He paused, voice cracking as he stood before Rumplestiltskin. The imp remained silent.
X
"When you reappeared, as you are now, I knew I could not win. I would die… and Milah stopped you. The look on your face –"
"Stop!" he hissed. The bastard dared speak to him in such a manner?
"I hated you for so long. I've been in Neverland for nearly ten years, thinking about you… every day."
Rumplestiltskin was… speechless. Nearly.
"Little old me?" he splayed a hand on his chest and batted his eyes mockingly.
"Yes. I understand… you're a survivor. Surviving is not cowardice. And now I know.
"I have nothing to offer in compensation but my sword; my… favour." Service, he thought dourly.
Rumplestiltskin watched silently, looking for any hint of deceit as he searched Hook's face.
"Your favour," he grinned wickedly. "Is that not what ladies give to their sweethearts? Their 'twue woves'?" he stepped closer to the taller man, placing a hand over his heart. Hook flinched, obviously remembering the last time that hand had touched him. "Tell me, fair maiden," he giggled, "what good is your favour?" he curled a finger under the cotton of Hook's tunic peeking over the top of his leather vest.
"It is all I have," came the terse reply.
"I see," he stepped back. "It's not good enough, dearie." He sneered viciously, baiting.
"Liar." The word was heated, finally showing some of the old captain.
That's more like it, he smirked.