Author's Note: Thank you scheherezade06 for taking pity on me and writing the one section of the story that I couldn't get right. If you're not reading her work, what are you waiting for?! Go now!

I know this chapter is a little short, but the next chapter is being worked on as we speak. Thank you for the kind reviews, notes and messages!


The Cantankerous Hedgehog was a dark, dank tavern on the edge of the town. It was well known as an establishment that turned a blind eye to a variety of misdeeds, yet still held some standards. It was nowhere near as low-brow and violent as some of the other pubs she had visited throughout her years navigating the realm.

A small shudder passed through her frame as she was reminded of the bar in Tortuga where she had rescued Ruby.

After that horrific night, the Golden Scarab never made port in Tortuga again.

The building that housed the Cantankerous Hedgehog stood, brown walls shabby and forlorn with it's location at the very edge of town. The sounds of music and rowdy laughter punctuated the otherwise quiet evening. As Emma neared the front door, several men stumbled out, completely intoxicated.

One man's eyes lit up at the sight of her curvaceous form walking towards them. "Oy! Now there's a pretty lass. Why don't you come let me spend some time with yer body."

She grinned, a flash of white teeth in the darkened night. Her hand concealed inside her cloak instantly sprang out, her flintlock cocked and pointed directly at closest man's chest. "I think I will pass," her hardened voice responded. Their eyes widened instantly in fear, and instead of any further confrontation, quickly scampered off into the darkness.

Pushing open the heavy oak door of the Cantankerous Hedgehog, Emma was immediately assaulted with the heavy stench of sweat, charred meat, and lager. Several of the men from Killian's crew were gathered around a table in the front of the tavern, hooting and cursing as they rolled a pair of dice. As promised, there were a fair amount of women sitting around the table, sitting happily on the laps of their chosen pirates. She continued scanning the room for his recognizable form, finally spotting him hunched over at a table towards the back end of the room.

The set of his shoulders and the way he scowled over his tankard of ale made it clear that he was not in the mood to socialize or play dice like the rest of his crew. He cast aside his drink carelessly, spilling pale amber suds across the table. A bar wench quickly arrived to clean up the mess and replace his drink, but he just waved her away with some sharp comment that made the girl jump. Once she'd fled, he covered his face with his good hand. By all accounts, Captain Hook looked like a man who didn't want to be bothered by anyone in the tavern.

Except maybe her.

Her traitorous mind wanted to smile at the mere sight of him, yet she forced the thoughts away. She was having trouble remembering that she was meeting with Captain Hook, not Killian Jones, until proven otherwise.

She edged closer to him, still half concealed in the shadows of the bar. She granted her heart one minute to stand back and admire him. Captain Hook was still the good looking, muscular man she had known as Killian Jones. She didn't need to check under his long black coat to know that his strong, lithe body was intact as well. He had always maintained that officers and captains should be able to complete any physical task on the ship and had frequently proven officers that he was still capable. She was surprised to see that he had cut off the ponytail that he sported as a young naval officer. Admittedly, she conceded that shorter hair suited him well.

However, it was his eyes that had changed the most. The blue twinkle of mischief that she had always associated with him had disappeared. Now, they were replaced by an ocean of loss and the burden of carrying it alone.

Killian, what has happened to you in these lost years? Her heart clenched thinking about the pain he endured.

Emma stood, leaning against the far wall observing him until he finally spotted her. Their eyes locked. Of course he could still find her in a crowded bar. He held her gaze from across the room and Emma felt the heat flare low in her belly at the sight of his piercing gaze. Finally, she could stand it no longer, and she pushed off the wall and walked to his table.

"Lost the white coat, hmm, love?" He murmured carefully as she slid onto the bench across from him, unfastening the cloak as she sat down. His greedy eyes were busy looking her up and down, admiring her white tunic when she brushed her hair back over her shoulder. "I like it."

She mentally appreciated wearing her breeches and tunic instead of her usual dryland mission dress garb. Killian's gaze spoke volumes to her and little of it had to do with simple conversations and old friends catching up.

The thought of his gaze lingering on her made her thighs clench and her pulse race. Emma forced the wanton thoughts out of her mind.

"It helps me blend in. The Naval coat tends to… ah, add to my troubles in an establishment like this one," she said with a casual shrug. There were stories to be told about the first time she wore her Naval coat into a bar, but that was a tale for another lifetime.

He snorted and took a slow drink from his lager before carefully setting the mug back down on the table. He gave her one last appraising glance. "You know, it's bad form to keep a man waiting so long. Your crew clearly needs to be whipped into shape if it truly took you this long to reach Windriville. Did the sea give you trouble?"

She shook her head, refusing to take the bait.

He paused, hesitating before continuing quietly, "I've been waiting quite awhile for you, Emma."

She couldn't fight the small grin that tugged at her lips. "Killian."

He tried not to flinch at the use of his real name as his eyes hardened marginally. "Hook will do." Shrugging a shoulder, he attempted to smirk away the pain and took another long drink from his tankard.

She shook her head, stubbornly. "One of my oldest friends in the world is Killian Jones. Not Captain Hook," she told him, watching his reaction.

His head drooped for a moment, before he stood, offering his good hand to her. "Come, Swan. You wanted answers. You'll get them, but not in this dingy hellhole." He stood patiently before her, tall and dashing in his dark leather coat.

Emma looked up at him for a long moment, her eyes carefully trained on his. She could hear Graham and Ruby's voices in her head, pleading with her common sense.

Emma, you need to be careful. He's dangerous for a reason, Ruby would tell her, eyes wide, thinking about her past experiences.

Walking off into the unknown with Captain Hook? Captain, this is not a good plan! Graham, ever the strategist, would want to know her exit strategy.

His blue eyes were open and earnest, holding her gaze, reminding her of the man she once knew.

"Come on, Swan. Try something new; it's called trust," he'd told her, so long ago. The man that she had lost was standing in front of her, needing her. There was really no other decision for her to make.

She placed her hand in his and allowed him to lead her from the tavern, out into the moonlight.