The Jolly is surrounded by a thick mist that blends in perfectly with her mood. She has been fuming all morning, her back to the foremast and her legs firmly clasped to her chest, with her arms around her knees forming a last barrier between her and the world. (it used to be like this every day she spent in the dungeons) (she hadn't thought she'd need this weak attempt at protection since she came aboard, the beautifully colored wood planks on the flanks of the ship making up some sort of impenetrable fortress)

And she feels stupid.

Goddamnit, she is literally caged here. (he should know better than that) (she thought he knew better than that) (god, she's so stupid)

They decided to change their course to approach this port last time they were on land, a retired historian that could make their task easier with his knowledge on the fate of lost royal treasures said to have fixed his residence here. And now Killian won't let her get off the ship. In fact, he's already left with three of his men - Smee and two burly sailors with his big cutlass and non-existent glib who are clearly of more use than her when talking to an educated ex-courtesan - right after mooring the Jolly a good and un-swimmable distance from port and taken the only boat with them.

And she might be quiet now, but as soon as he comes back she's giving him a (very angry) piece of her mind and then she's going to call off this arrangement and leave. He doesn't have any power over her, and she won't be kept here by force. (She will jump overboard if necessary, same way she fought the Dark Knights back in the day. She is free, goddamnit, and he is not taking that from her)

The crewmen are wise enough not to come near her. At least not until lunchtime comes and goes and she stays in her chosen spot to seethe. Then Stark (they know she has a soft spot for him since the night of stargazing, clever guys) ventures into her self-proclaimed domain with a bowl of stew in his hand (her favourite one at that. She's going to throttleCook) and sits beside her without a word, and no amount of silent treatment will make him get the hint that she doesn't want the company.

The skies are starting to tinge with pink and orange as the sun comes down by the time he opens his mouth - "It's been years since I had seen this bay, ye ken lass?" - and engages her in a conversation (more of a monologue, for all that she contributes to it) about joining a Navy-turned-pirate crew down at the Southern Islands, about sailing with them for half a year before docking in this same town, about a warrant for treason on the Captain's head and a squad of soldiers under King George's orders cutting off his hand before his execution - execution thwarted by his crew ("but not bloody soon enough, lass. We weren't fast enough") before they fled to the high seas and patched him up.

-/-

Stark's words still ring in her head when Killian and the others return - well into the night - and he finds her in his room, sitting at the desk with the atlas he bought open in front of her. He sighs and takes off his coat before facing her with his arms cross over his chest in a protective manner. (It makes a weight bear down on her breastbone, seeing him shielding himself the same way she has spent good part of the day doing). She nears him slowly, reaching for the brace on his left arm, unbuckling the straps and taking it off with the silver hook still attached to it.

Taking a page from Stark's book, she addresses the elephant in the room casually.

"Did you find him?"

"Aye. Gave us a few notes. You can look at them if you wish to"

She hums noncommittally and trails her fingertips over the scarred lines he's had for a little over three years, wondering if he has screamed too much or spoken too little in the last hours to have his voice as rough and low as it is now.

"I could have gone and heard from the man himself too"

"I know. Couldn't risk it though, love." He doesn't elaborate, but she won't let it go like that. If she really is to stay, she needs to understand (she owes it to herself, not to be fooled again by a tragic story and one "I know best")

"I hadn't pegged you for the kind of man to mutiny against his country, Captain. Neither for one to believe he owns me" He shakes his head fractionally, one corner of his mouth coming up for a second in a poor resemblance of his usual mirth.

"Been tattling with the crew, have you?" Levity leaves him as his shoulders hunch forward "I know I can't own you love. No one ever could" (her fingers clench a bit tighter on his forearm - she remembers one person who definitely tried) "But I'll be damned if that bloody disgrace of a king gets his hands on you" his hand rises to gripe hers in his vehemence "and I would do it all again a thousand times over if it kept you from ever meeting that monster" She's heard the story from his crewman only a few hours ago, but something doesn't add up, this passion and desperation in his eyes and in his tone.

"Because he cut off your hand"

"Because he sent us to my brother's death"the anguish finally breaks through and his voice shakes and strains as he recalls a feathered sail and an island that hid lethal thorns and devious demons; breaking his vow and devoting himself to avenging the death of the only family he had left; losing his composure at the prospect of history repeating itself with her in the picture.

The weight inside her ribcage grows, taking up space in her throat and making her eyes sting without tears (thank the gods for small favours) and she winds her free arm over his shoulder, resting her cheek against his while she waits for the turmoil inside him to calm down.

"You're an idiot" (no one said this means she isn't still mad)

"What?"

Distancing their torsos so she can look into his eyes, she arches an eyebrow. "You're an idiot. You contacted me to help you find the artifacts needed to get into King George's magically protected castle and get revenge. I'm going into his fucking castle Killian, I'm getting near him anyway."

He manages to look chastised and bashful at the same time, and his fingers twitch on her hip.

"Sorry to disappoint love, but I don't think I can't follow through with our original arrangement, for reasons I have made obvious in a mostly crude way" A frown appeared in his brow "I apologize for leaving you stranded here. I didn't consider things much further than keeping you out of town"

She sighs and ponders everything he's told her. She knows the man can be impulsive and reckless (there's still a rounded bullet scar on his shoulder to remind them), but she also knows that he cares about her opinions and this is the first time he has disregarded them.

"I was sold to Regina by someone I trusted. He took me directly to an ambush. I never go - or stay - somewhere I don't want to anymore" He nods at her warning and she feels satisfied - mostly at least. "So you can make it up to me teaching me how to plan the courses"

His eyes widen ever so slightly, and she is further pleased that she can take him always by surprise. Especially when his features form that mischievous smile she has grown to associate with their banter. "Well Swan, I see you cartography lessons and raise you manning the helm lessons."

Her grin feels finally natural as she gets into his space "You drive a hard bargain Captain"

"Pirate, love" His hand and hook meet at the small of her back as his arms encircle her waist, and if either of them were to move forward, their foreheads would rest together too. She enjoys the position for a moment, soaking up in his warmth before stepping away, flashing him an impish smile and going to retrieve the atlas from his desk.

"Good. You can start now"