Hello fanfiction world! Somehow, I've returned. I left for a long time to work on my own fiction. I'm in the middle of writing a novel, which I've been stuck on for months now because I can't figure out my own villain. So here I am. I had this idea while bored at work and rather than just write it for the sake of getting it out of my head and onto paper, I figured I'd share it. It was originally going to be a one-shot, however it didn't feel right so I'm expanding it into a couple of chapters. We'll see how it goes. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Killian jolted awake. He sat up in a cold sweat, only no beads pooled at his temple. What happened? A nightmare, surely. Only what was it that pulled him from the depths of his unconsciousness? He couldn't remember.

He felt nothing. It wasn't the peaceful kind of nothing. Killian glanced around at his surroundings. Everything looked and felt so foreign. Where was he?

He stood up and brushed himself off. He was in someone's house. Beside him was a couch and in the next room a kitchen, which he was only able to decipher based on the large pots resting in what looked like a small tub. There were so many odd devices everywhere. Had he crossed into another world? Realm jumping was difficult. He remembered from his trial's with Liam trying to get to Neverland. It was never easy getting that damn sail to work. How had he easily fallen asleep and jumped realms? Magic had to be involved. Most likely, dark magic. "Bloody crocodile," Killian swore under his breath, "If this was you, I'll make your death even more painful."

Killian wandered into the kitchen, looking at all the knobs on a particular object that a dirty pan was sitting on. Sunlight streamed in through the windows that lined the wall by a small table in a nook. The house was so light and airy, yet it felt like no one lived it in.

Killian began to explore. He supposed it was the pirate in him. No one seemed home anyways, that is if this place was even inhabited. He stumbled upon a staircase and climbed the stairs to the next story.

Suddenly, the atmosphere in the house changed. It was as if every molecule in the air was being swallowed by an overbearing sorrow. Killian felt pulled towards the closed door at the end of the corridor. He crept towards it. The air became denser. He felt as if he were drowning on land. He outstretched his arm ready to turn the door handle, then suddenly he was in the room.

Killian blinked a few times. The room was dark. Beams of sunlight attempted to creep their way in, but had been shut out by dark shades that had been pulled down to cover the windows. The small amount of light that managed its way in illuminated a painted landscape of a ship out at sea. Killian smiled. It was the first time since waking up in this foreign land that he felt at home. His missed the creaking wood of his ship's deck and the salty sea air. Where was the Jolly Roger now?

"Mom?" a voice called out followed by a gentle knock on the door.

Killian jumped, startled, and dove into the closet.

There was no response. As if the intruder expected this would occur, the door slowly opened.

"Hey mom," a boy no older than fifteen said, entering the room. He had scruffy overgrown brown hair and warm brown eyes, which were filled with concern. He walked over to the bed and sat down next to the hidden woman under the covers. "Mom," he pulled back the sheets revealing messy blonde hair.

"Henry?" the woman asked, her voice cracking from obvious disuse. She attempted to sit up, and the boy wrapped her frail body in his arms to help her. He propped up some pillows and rested her gently back upon them.

"Henry," the woman seemed a bit more relaxed now.

"Yeah mom, it's me." He pushed her blonde hair out of her eyes and smoothed it back behind her ear.

Killian peeked out at the woman's face. Even though it was evident that this woman hadn't left this bedroom for quite a while, there were dark circles under her eyes, as if she were haunted by nightmares. Her eyes were also red and swollen from crying. She seemed sad, devastated, really. As if all the light in her world had been extinguished. Other than that, the woman was quite beautiful.

"Mom, I brought you some apple turnovers. Grandma made them, so don't worry, they aren't poisoned." He paused, as if expecting a laugh. Nothing. "I miss you mom, we all do. There's a girl at school who's dog went missing. I thought we could find him. Together. You're great at that. I thought of a name, Operation Toby. That's it's name, the dog's. Then afterwards, when we find him, because we will, it runs in the family, and you are the savior, I thought we could go to Granny's for some hot cocoa with cinnamon. Just like old times!"

Henry glanced at his mom. The woman started to doze off. He sighed, defeated.

"Alright, I'll just leave these here for you." He set the plate down on the nightstand and stood up to leave.

He crossed to the door and opened it.

"Henry, wait."

"Yes, mom?" Henry paused, with a hopeful smile.

"Thanks."

Henry nodded defeated once more and left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

Wait, Killian thought. Realizing that the boy wasn't a mind reader, he cried out, "Wait!"

Suddenly he was in the kitchen, standing behind the boy.

"Henry," he tried. The boy didn't respond.

"Hey, lad. Henry!" he tried again, getting more desperate.

Henry continued walking towards the front door, hunched with another defeat.

"Henry wait, what's going on? Where am I? Who are you, who's that woman? Is this your house?"

Henry opened the front door and paused for a moment.

"Bloody hell, listen to me! Why can't you hear me?" Killian shrieked, grabbing at a vase of pink flowers on the table with the intent of smashing it to the floor only his hand passed through it.

"-The hell? What's happening to me?" Killian fumbled and fell backwards through a chair and crashed onto the floor.

He grabbed at the vase again. Nothing. His hand passed right through it again as if it were air. He grabbed again. And again. Again, each attempt more and more desperate and futile.

Finally he stopped, out of breath. Or what felt like out of breath. Killian focused on the vase, with every molecule of whatever he was now intent with moving the damn thing. He crouched next to the table and wrapped his hand as closely around the vase as he could without touching it. "Move," he grunted. Nothing. "Move" he groaned again, but with no avail. He was growing frustrated now. Killian closed his eyes to calm down and focused all his energy to move the vase. He felt himself growing weak. His knees began to shake as he concentrated. Killian's vision grew spotty as he imagined the vase. The cool glass surface beneath his fingertips. He closed his hand, and suddenly felt it. The vase was in his grasp. It teetered a bit before tipping over, rolling off the table, and crashing to the floor.

The room was spinning and everything looked blurry now. Killian drifted in and out of consciousness. He wobbled a bit before collapsing onto the floor and blacking out.

Not to be that person, but reviews will encourage me to continue.