Chapter Four

Killian let out a very frustrated sigh. The Swan girl had certainly thrown him for a loop. He wasn't entirely sure why he had agreed to let her accompany him to Nottingham, only knowing that he needed his ring back and knowing that he didn't particularly want to kill her either to get it back. Gods, he had been so angry. His brother's voice kept whispering in his ear, doing everything to keep the darkness and wrath at bay.

It had worked.

Barely.

He was fairly certain this Emma Swan was hiding his ring somewhere under all those skirts of hers, which now that he got a better look at her, seemed to him as if someone else had dressed her. The bar wench outfit didn't suit her. He smirked, thinking of perhaps an easier and more enjoyable way of getting his ring back.

Their night together was slowly coming back to him. He could still remember the way he had her moaning and withering around him. Ten minutes—no five—and he could have her on her back, begging for more.

He mentally kicked himself at the thought.

He could just scare her into giving him his goddamn ring back. That was what he would have done if it had been anyone else. Something held him back and it wasn't entirely Liam's nuisance voice whispering in his ear either. Problem was, this Emma Swan didn't seem terrified of him at all. In fact, she seemed to have the profound ability to see right through him.

But he had seen through her as well and it was rather like looking into a mirror.

When she asked him to take her to the next town over, he'd seen the plea in the green specks of her irises. She was running from something, or perhaps someone. He didn't know what to make of the Swan girl because she clearly had no fear when it came to sticking up for herself. He wondered who could have—no. He abruptly stopped the thought before it could grow into something more. He didn't care who Emma Swan was or where she came from. She had done nothing to earn his trust. He did not care for her.

Don't get attached.

Hook stopped abruptly and she barreled straight into him, sending him back a step. He steadied her with his hand and she shot him a piercing look.

"And behold," he said. "The Jolly Roger…I'd give you a tour, but I'm fairly certain you already know your way around."

She shot him another look, one that amused him.

"I think I can find my way around just fine, thanks."

Her anger didn't last though. Something about her shifting eyes and the way she kept glancing over her shoulder every now and then caught his attention. He realized she was scared but not of him and that intrigued him probably much more than it should have.

"You know what I think?" he said before he could stop himself.

He needed to know if he was right about her. He was good at reading people, and right now, he was getting the strangest sense that they had more in common than either of them knew.

"I think you're going to tell me anyway," she huffed.

"I find it curious that you've not asked me about our next port of destination." Her face contorted with an emotion he couldn't quite place. He only caught it because he had looked for it. A few seconds later and she quickly pulled back on her mask, compartmentalizing the way she did best.

Ah. So he had been right about her. She was running from something or someone. Not that he cared. She took his question as something else though.

"That won't work….trying to scare me off this ship."

"I'm trying to do no such thing," he told her truthfully. "You're just something of an open book is all."

"Am I?"

She placed her hands on her hips, now annoyed. He was getting under her skin and something about the blush forming in her cheeks, egged him on.

"Quite. Let's see. You willingly volunteered to take shelter on my ship because whatever you're running from is a far worst fate than living with a bunch of pirates for a few days." He paused for a moment, waiting for that to sink in and for a brief second, he watched her shut down.

"That's not perception," she whispered, though she didn't comment further on that. Then realizing that she had shown him too much, she perked up, a little bit harsher now. "You don't know me."

True. He knew nothing about her and had no plans of getting to know her either, but her pages were open for all of him to see. "I spent years in Neverland. Home of the Lost Boys. They all share the same look in their eyes. The look you get when you've been left alone."

"Yeah. Well, my world ain't Neverland."

Killian shrugged. "An orphan's an orphan."

He would know. He was one too, not that he would share this piece of information with her. He crossed a line, he could tell. He watched her walls build-up absurdly fast around her. Then without further comment, she turned from him and waltzed up the gangplank to the Jolly Roger. He found it ironic that her means to escape him was to run right onboard his ship. She nearly reached the top when she stopped so suddenly, that it was his turn to barrel straight into her. She stumbled back a tad, unable to support his weight.

"It just so happens I am trying to get somewhere," she told him much too confidently, arms crossed over her chest.

His eyebrows shot up in amusement. He couldn't wait to hear this one. "And where might that be, lass?"

"Arendelle."

She told him this with so much confidence and so quickly, he knew she had come up with it in the short walk it took her to cross the gangplank to his ship. He smirked, knowing she probably heard about the town in a storybook or something. It only confirmed his suspicions that she was indeed running from something.

"Alright then. Arendelle it is," he told her without hesitation.

Her face fell, but just like last time, she recovered quickly. Something about knowing that he was right about her yet again had him grinning from ear to ear.

Open book, that one.

"Wait…you'll take me?" she asked him hesitantly with a little bit of surprise. "Isn't it...a long journey from here?"

Killian shrugged. "Give or take. Of course, we'd have to stop here and there to restock the ship, but it's on the way to our final port of destination. I don't see the problem with dropping you off along the way."

He did not intend to take her to Arendelle, nor did he actually suspect she'd stick around long enough to make it there. She would disappear, he knew, the first chance she got. However, he hadn't been lying to her either. Arendelle just so happened to be rather close to the Dark One's castle. There he could finally, finally extract his revenge on the Dark One.

"And just where is your final port of destination?" she asked him, breaking him from his thoughts.

Now it was his turn for his face to fall. She smiled in triumph. Yes. Two could play this game. Like her, he had his secrets too, ones he certainly wasn't going to reveal, especially to some girl he hardly even knew and one he had no plans of getting to know for that matter. Still, he couldn't help the pride swelling up inside his chest as he thought of driving his sword through the Dark One's heart. It wasn't a secret that he wanted to kill the crocodile.

"Why to seek my revenge on the man who took my hand. Rumpelstiltskin."

He watched her tense at the name. The fear that flickered across her eyes didn't go unnoticed by him. Interesting. So she knew the crocodile after all. Before she could further question him on it, he added, "We leave at dusk," he told her, his voice leaving no room for questioning.

Their conversation was done here.

-x-

Stupid. So incredibly stupid.

Arendelle.

Of all the damn places she could have said, she just had to say Arendelle. Arendelle was the last place she wanted to set foot in, right behind the Evil Queen's castle. On the other hand, Arendelle sat outside the Enchanted Forest, which did make it an appealing prospect. However, she kept hearing Ingrid's voice in her ear.

Tell them who you are and they'll take you in. They will help you

Emma bit her lip. She didn't want help, especially from Ingrid's family. She supposed she didn't have to seek them out if she didn't want to. After all, she didn't even know what they looked like and she highly doubted they even knew she existed.

Then to top it all off, Hook wished to kill Rumpelstiltskin. She knew the name well, and like everyone did, shuttered when she heard it. Some people claimed Rumpelstiltskin was no more than a story told to scare children, but Emma knew the truth, for she'd seen him a thousand times in her dreams.

However, this was all beside the point because she extremely doubted that Hook planned to take her to Arendelle anyway. She had seen his smug smirk and the glint in those blue eyes of his. He just wanted to pull a reaction out of her, which he frustratingly managed to do. He knew she was running from something and she hated to know that he could read her so easily.

An orphan.

One look at her and he had her all figured out. Was it that obvious that she was a loner? That she didn't have a place to call home? She had tried to blend into the world more times than she could count. It never worked out because she kept disappointing everyone around her.

Emma sighed. She couldn't think about any of that now. She'd wouldn't step foot anywhere near that beast or near Arendelle. No. She'd be long gone the moment she stepped foot at the next port. Whatever that was, not that it particularly mattered. She was good at traveling without a plan, choosing instead to follow wherever the wind blew her…just as long as the wind didn't blow too close to Regina's castle.

Emma chose to give herself her own tour of the ship. She'd only actually seen Hook's cabin, after all. The pirates paid her little attention as she roamed the different levels. They probably thought she was some wench, looking for her lover.

Emma rolled her eyes. Men. Honestly.

She choose to make herself at home in the cargo hold, figuring that the rest of the crew slept in the hammocks and cots on the floor above this one. There was no way in Hell she was sleeping near any of them. She found a spot between barrels of rum, figuring no one would bother her down here.

She quickly changed into much more comfortable attire: pants, a light and loose fitting blouse with a dark blue vest overtop. Skirts and dresses didn't suit her. They never had and she doubted they ever would.

Now. Last but not least…

The ring weighed heavily in the palm of her hand. She wondered whom it belonged to for him to show so much emotion over something so small. But she knew that sometimes the most meaningful things in life came in the smallest of packages—Like her swan necklace her father had given to her on her fifth birthday or the blue shawl Ingrid had gotten her all those years ago. If she'd lost either of those things…well, she was fairly certain she'd act similarly to the way Hook had.

She'd give it back to him tomorrow once they were out to sea, she decided. Then with a sigh, Emma secured Hook's ring under her blouse and made her way back to the others.

Honestly, it was astonishing sometimes she made it as far in life as she did. The moment she stepped foot onto deck, she barreled straight into someone.

"Woah! Sorry about that. Didn't see you."

Emma blinked.

The pirate before her was younger than the others, perhaps only a year or two older than herself. In fact, looking at him now, he didn't look much like a pirate at all. He was too neat around the edges, too freshly shaven and proper. As she looked at him long and hard, that strange feeling of recognition tugged at that back of her mind. It was his eyes, she decided after a moment, and gods above did they remind her of someone…someone she couldn't quite place.

"And you are…?" the man asked.

Emma mentally kicked herself, feeling like an idiot because she hadn't said anything. She took his hand and gave him a soft smile.

"Emma," she told him. "Emma Swan."

The man paused, visibly tensing. Then very slowly, he looked her up and down. He was staring at her, she realized, in a very similar manner she had been staring at him.

"Emma," he said eventually, testing out her name. "After the Lost Princess?"

Of course, this wasn't the first time someone had asked her this and wouldn't be the last. There were times she really regretted not haven chose a different first name. But she didn't want to lose herself completely and since her birth, thousands of families had named their daughters after her.

Hope.

Emma scoffed. There was no such thing as hope, not truly. Hope was something parents told their children to trick them into believing the world was a better place than it actually was.

"Something like that," she told him, recovering quickly. "Lost you say? I thought the princess was dead."

"There are rumors here and there."

"Rumors," she agreed. Then she gave him a soft smile when she caught him staring again.

The man laughed. "Apologizes. It's just… you remind me of someone is all." The man got this far away look in his eye then, a look Emma knew all too well. The man shook himself out of it. "Apologizes. August," he said, holding out his hand. "August Booth."

Emma took it. "So do you know exactly what the next port of destination is?"

Something flashed across August's eyes, amusement perhaps. "Ah. You're the Captain's friend."

Emma openly rolled her eyes. "We are not friends."

August kept on smiling at her and it unnerved her. "Nottingham," he told her after a moment. "It should only take a couple days. I heard you'll be accompanying us for a while. Arendelle is quite far."

Emma balked at him. She'd been away for no more than twenty minutes and Hook had already managed to tell his whole crew about her. Emma let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah. We'll see about that."

"Don't let us fool you. We look worse for wear than we actually are...you just have to look underneath the surface."

August took a step closer to her and then pointed to a large man at the far end of the ship. The man easily stood over six foot tall and was perhaps the largest man Emma had ever seen. "That one is Bloody Bill. Bill for short, though his biggest dream. Concert pianist." August then pointed to another man, one with a crooked nose and tons of lumps and bruises. "And that one over there," August continued on, "wants to settle down with a special little lady and make a bunch of pirates babes."

A smile tugged at the corners of Emma's lips. August went about, pointing to each member of the crew, spilling their secrets and making them far less terrifying than they actually seemed. Tor apparently like flowers, while a pirate named Attila loved to bake. Then there were the twins, Bruiser and Killer who knew how to sew.

"Well, aren't you the creative bunch," she told him when he finished.

"We aren't all bad," August told her softly. "Just a different way of looking at things is all."

"August!" a small voice shouted from behind.

Emma turned at the sound of the voice, not expecting to hear the sound of a child.

"Ah!" August said brightly. "And this little one here is the youngest and newest member of our crew."

The child, no more than nine, beamed up at her. "Oliver," he told her proudly in a thick accent she did not recognize. "Oliver Twist."

August clasped a hand on the lad's shoulder. "Picked this one up not too long ago. In Neverland."

The child seemed incredibly proud by this fact and he nodded along with August. "The Captain took me in when I asked! I helped them in Neverland you see."

"Neverland…I thought that was just…"she trailed off

August's eyebrows shot up. "A story? Yeah me too. Wretched place. Beautiful but deadly."

Emma nodded, though not entirely comprehending it. As a child, she loved the stories of Peter Pan and the magical land that he whisked orphans off to. She had always wished that the lost boy would fly through her window and take her away from all the horrors of the world. Only when she grew up did she accept that Neverland and Peter Pan were nothing more than a fairytale. Oh how wrong she had been.

August bent down and instructed Oliver to go help a pirate named Doyle. The child ran off, eager to help in any way he could.

"He's a good kid," August told her.

A loud thud interrupted them, making her jump. She glanced down at a bucket, now placed at her feet. She glanced back up at the culprit who had put it there. It didn't surprise her in the slightest to find Hook, not so subtly eyeing her up and down

"I see you change rather nicely," Hook told her. When he caught her gaping at the bucket, his smirk only grew. "What? You didn't think I'd let you ride for free now did you?"

His eyes were smiling at her, but his smirk said it all. Gods, he just loved getting a reaction out of her, didn't he? She wanted to know why he was so hell bent on wanting her off the ship. Then again, she had taken his ring. He wouldn't get a reaction out of her though. Emma grabbed the mop from his hands. She'd done worse jobs than mop the deck for a ticket out of town.

"And when I'm finished?" Emma asked, matching his confidence in her tone.

Hook's eyebrows shot up. "Come find me." Then he walked away, leaving her alone with August once more.

"Is he always like that?" Emma huffed, watching him leave.

"Yup," August told her.

Emma sighed. This was going to be a long couple of days.

-x-

Emma didn't know why she felt like she had something to prove. She'd been on ships before, after all, and she honestly didn't care what the pirates thought of her. But when she took that mop from Hook, something washed over her, something she couldn't explain. So she scrubbed the deck hard and well, until it was nearly spotless. When she was done with that, she moved right onto her next task. It was stupid honestly, but she strangely wanted to prove to them that she was not some precious damsel in distress.

Of course there were snickers here and there at first, but for the most part, the pirates were surprisingly friendly and kind to her. They taught her the different ranks of the ship and the different chores they needed to complete in order for them to set sail. They were incredibly patient with her and she found herself wondering if she could handle a journey to Arendelle with a ship full of pirates after all.

Just as Hook said, they set sail at dusk. Relief immediately washed over her when the Jolly Roger pulled away from the docks. She hoped that she'd never see that elderly man again.

Later that evening, Emma made her way to the front of the ship and took a seat on an overturned barrel. The majority of the crew had turned below deck already. Despite her exhaustion, she wasn't quite ready to turn in yet, knowing nightmares would plague her the moment she shut her eyes. The sun had long since set, as the Jolly Roger sailed out into the unknown. It was one of those perfect warm nights with clear skies and the occasional cool breeze. The moon sat high in the sky now, surrounded by tiny dots of pure white. The ocean seemed to stretch out for miles and miles before them, and as Port Captiva became more of a distant dot behind them, she found herself beginning to feel incredibly small.

The world was terrifyingly large at times.

"Your hand…it's cut. Let me help you."

Emma glanced over her shoulder, surprised to find Hook standing behind her and staring at her with a look of concern, one she couldn't exactly place. She thought he had gone to bed along with everyone else. She glanced back down at her hand and clamped it shut in an attempt to hide the red and raw flesh from him. She had cut it earlier moving a barrel and brushed it off at the time. However, now that the work was all said and done, it was frustratingly painful at times.

"Oh, no. It's fine…" she trailed off.

She had worse before. Besides, nothing a little magic couldn't fix. Despite her protest, Hook took a seat next to her all the same, much closer than necessary really. She attempted to back away, but he caught her hand with his hook and pulled her right back to him.

"No it's not," he argued, not taking his eyes off her.

Emma could only stare as she watched him uncork the flask with his mouth. "So now you're going to be a gentleman?" she asked him, unsure of what else to say, though knowing she had to say something to ease the tension between them. It was suffocating.

He cocked his head to the side, smirking. "I'm always a gentleman."

He poured the contents of his flask over her hand and she let out an involuntary and uncharacteristic yelp. "What the hell is that?" Emma screeched, attempting to pull her hand away again, but he just held on a little tighter.

"It's rum. Bloody waste of it too," he muttered.

Hook took the scarf around his neck and began to wrap it around her hand, surprisingly gentle. Then his blue eyes flashed to hers and he tied the scarf off with his mouth. Emma swallowed hard, transfixed on him, unable to pull away.

Gods above this was a terrible idea. She shouldn't have sought out passage on his ship. When they first set sail, those few days felt small. Now, with his intense eyes and looks of concern and unnerving ability to see right through her, those several days seemed incredibly far away.

Don't get attached.

She couldn't remember the last time she truly had an honest conversation with someone. She wasn't exactly the most trusting of people after all. Hook, however, had gotten right under her skin in more ways than she could count and she had just met the guy. Hell, she hardly even knew him. Correction, she thought. She didn't know him, nor did she plan on getting to know him. She would keep to herself the next several days and then she'd be off the moment they docked.

"You're a tough lass," he told her, breaking her thoughts. "You'd make one hell of a pirate."

Emma glanced away. He finally let go of her wrist, but not before she caught the face of a woman etched onto his arm.

"Who's Milah? On the tattoo."

The words were out before she could stop herself. She watched him tense up and then shut right back down. He shifted slightly away from her before pulling his sleeve down to cover the tattoo. Perhaps she wasn't the only open book.

"Someone from long ago," he told her quickly and quietly.

"Where is she?" she asked, though she already knew the answer.

"She's gone."

"Rumpelstiltskin," she mumbled, when it clicked. "He took more than your hand from you, didn't he? That's why you want to kill him."

"You're quite perceptive, aren't you?" He was looking at her now with an intensity she couldn't quite place. "Have you ever been in love?" he asked her after a moment.

Emma thought about her parents and her baby brother—the family she'd never see again. Nearly twenty years had passed since she last saw them and not a day went by that she didn't think about them. Her brother would have been about twenty-three now and her heart ached at the life he could have had. If she hadn't left him there to die.

Emma closed her eyes, desperate to push back Leo's childish face. But if it wasn't Leo who haunted her thoughts it was always someone else she loved, like Ingrid or even Robin and Roland. They had all taken her in and had all given her a home when she had never asked for one. Her heart pinched inside her chest at the memory of them.

Love, Emma realized, came in many shapes and forms.

"Maybe I was once," she told him softly. Then sensing the conversation drifting towards a topic she didn't want to share, she changed the subject entirely. "So Neverland, huh?" she questioned.

Hook blinked and then let out a laugh, one of relief. Almost immediately, the tension between them evaporated.

"August said it was a wretched place," Emma continued on, curious about what the pirate had told her earlier.

"I don't know what stories you've heard, but I can assure you they are all lies. Neverland is not a fairytale It's a nightmare…I will also add, that in Neverland I am, nor was I ever the villain."

He had moved back in closer to her and she could feel the warmth radiating off his body. For a moment, she could only think of the other night with his lips hot on her skin, stirring up emotions she didn't want to acknowledge or thought she was even capable of feeling again.

"Is that so?" she asked, even though she could see he was telling her the truth. Still, she had to stop herself from laughing at the thought of him being so scared of a child.

"Pan is the most treacherous villain I have ever faced. Tell me something. These stories, what am I like?"

Emma shrugged. "You weren't in them."

It was true. The stories she'd heard more aligned with Peter Pan and the Lost Boys. They fought with pirates, yes, but the stories weren't particularly about the infamous Captain Hook, rather they were about acceptance and finding a place to belong in the world. Of course, she had heard stories about him, though none of them were exactly pleasant. He certainly had a reputation, she'd give him that, and he was currently—and thankfully—failing to meet all of her preconceived notions about him.

"Tell me something," she asked, feeling bolder now. "Exactly how old are you?"

He barked out a laugh at that. "Swan, a man can't reveal all his secrets, now can he?" Then softer and with more sincerity, he whispered, "Time moves differently in Neverland."

She got the feeling that Neverland wasn't the place she'd always dreamt of as a child, which hurt a lot more than it probably should have. Even now, all grown up, a part of her wanted to believe that there was a place out there for children who didn't exactly fit in with the rest of the world.

"Why didn't you leave then? If it was so miserable there."

"Easier said than done. I eventually managed to acquire a magic bean to leave that wretched place."

He told her this like it was the easiest thing in the world to have come across. She perked up. A magic bean could solve a lot of her problems. It could take her to a land without magic where she wouldn't have to worry about evil queens, saviors or beasts for starters.

"Those aren't easy to come by," she stated, hoping she didn't sound too desperate.

"They aren't," Hook agreed and she knew he wasn't planning on telling her on how he managed to come across one either. "I used the last one to get back here."

Emma's spirits deflated nearly as quickly as they had filled with hope. When she saw Hook waiting for an explanation from her, she sighed. "I've been trying to amass enough fortune to escape to another realm for forever now. Somewhere isolated." She told him this almost in a daze. She may have been there physically, but mentally she was far, far away.

"Sounds lonely."

She shrugged. It was better that way. "Every time I make enough money, something always goes wrong. I'm terribly unlucky in that regards."

"You and I, we understand each other," he told her. "Look out for yourself and you'll never get hurt, right?"

"Worked quite well for me," she agreed with him.

"Touché." Hook held his flask up and brought it to his lips. He then handed it to her, gesturing for her to take it. She did and swallowed the little rum that was left.

A part of her wanted to argue with him. They weren't alike, not all. His crew was extremely loyal to him. She somehow suspected that Hook would do anything for them in return. He had a family here, he just didn't even know it.

His ring seemed to weigh heavily in her pocket then. She had planned to give it to him when they were closer to port, but it somehow felt wrong keeping it when it mattered so much to him. She fished it out of her pocket.

"I believe this belongs to you."

She placed the ring in his hand and jumped to her feet. She didn't want to see his reaction, nor did she need to hear his thanks. Not that she would get it. She had stolen it from him after all. She headed towards the steps quickly, refusing to look back, but his voice stopped her in her tracks all the same.

"Swan," he called for her and she turned, because of course she turned.

He was looking at her with those intense eyes of his again. For a brief moment, she thought about walking back to him. She couldn't deny that a part of her enjoyed his company. She tried to think about the fact that he didn't show this side of himself too often. Her greens eyes met his. She felt her stomach flip and if she could have, she would have smacked herself.

Don't get attached.

"Killian," he choked out, his voice wavering just a tad, as if he didn't give it out very often. "My name….is Killian Jones."

Emma nodded with a soft smile. "Goodnight, Killian."

-x-

Stupid. So incredibly stupid.

He wasn't sure why he had given her his name. He owed her absolutely nothing. She'd given him his ring back of course, but she had stolen it from him in the first place. When she jumped up and left so abruptly, he couldn't deny the pull on his heart. He had wanted her to stay, he realized, almost painstakingly so. Her absence hung heavily around him. His ring should have brought him joy and comfort, however it brought no such thing. He was happy to have it back, sure, he just hadn't expected the feeling of emptiness to come along with it.

Numb. Tired. Raw.

Despite his exhaustion, Killian deliberately chose to ignore it and decided to stay above ship. He kept Smee and Doyle company for awhile. Finally, when he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer, he found his way to his cabin. The moment he stepped foot inside, guilt hit him like a cannon ball. A part of him had desperately wanted to ask her where she was staying. The thought of her sleeping anywhere near the others made his stomach turn. Perhaps she'd found somewhere else to sleep—he hoped. There were plenty of nooks and crannies onboard. Then he thought of how terribly cold those nooks and crannies might be…

Don't get attached.

He shook the thought from his head. It was why he had forced himself not to ask her.

Don't get attached.

Tomorrow, he decided. He'd asked her where she was sleeping.

No.

Because then he'd offer her his cabin and that was an incredibly stupid idea.

Don't get attached.

Killian tossed and turned, knowing sleep would not come easily to him that night. His thoughts drifted to Emma Swan again because he damn well couldn't get her out of his head. It was as if she had planted a seed there. He couldn't help but wonder how things would have played out if she had stayed with him that night at the tavern. For a moment, he was kissing her again and the room faded away. It was just him and her and Gods above, he wished that she had stayed that night. He felt his southern areas twitch as his thoughts drifted into dangerous territory.

He wouldn't offer his cabin to her, he decided. He changed his mind. He knew if he couldn't sleep without her there, he certainly wasn't going to be able to sleep with her there either. He paused at the thought. A woman had not simply slept in his bed since Milah.

Milah.

Neverland had damaged his sense of time. It was difficult to say how many years it had been since her passing. Decades? Perhaps even a century. He could remember everything about her. Her smile. Her laugh. The way her eyes fluttered when she was flustered. Milah had been his everything. Right after her passing, the only thing that kept him going was his vengeance against the Dark One.

Then on the other hand, there was Liam. When Liam passed, Killian had turned his grief into wrath, betraying the king and fleeing from his problems. When the pain got too much, he turned it into something else. Wrath. Vengeance. It was easier that way because sorrow had a funny way of killing you slowly.

She's pretty.

Killian opened his eyes and shot his brother's ghost a piercing look. Even dead, Liam still found a way to get under his skin.

"No. Emma Swan is a distraction. Nothing more," he told the empty compartment around him.

Whatever you say, little brother.

Killian threw his pillow across the room and Liam's mirage vanished as quickly as it came. Then running his hand through his hair, he let out a deep sigh. He understood Emma in many ways and that terrified him. She both intrigued him and frightened him, bringing up feelings he hadn't felt in a very, very long time—ones he honestly didn't think he was even capable of feeling again. He couldn't deny the desire Emma Swan held over him.

Killian shook his head and plopped back down in his bed, starring up at the ceiling, willing a sleep that would never come.

No, he decided.

This was all lust. Nothing more and nothing less.

Lust.

He closed his eyes and only saw Emma Swan with her blonde hair and striking green eyes. Killian's eyes snapped back open.

Gods above, she was going to be his undoing. He was sure of it.

A/N: In case you're wondering why August and Emma didn't recognize each other, remember it has been 20 years! This happened to me actually. My best friend from my first grade class ended up moving. About 8 years later, she ended up sitting next to me in another class. We didn't recognize each other until a couple months into the school year! Crazy right?