"See," he said, "the arrow struck against this. It is the kiss I gave her. It has saved her life."

—J.M. Barrie, Peter and Wendy


Captain Killian Jones stood at the ship's wheel, looking at the distant horizon through his telescope. The skies were clear and blue, and there was a nice, steady wind blowing in the northeasterly direction to speed their departure. His crew members were making preparations for embarking, and Killian walked around the ship, doing the final inspection before they were to set sail.

As Killian turned a corner, he stopped short at the sight that met his eyes. Milah was standing in the middle of the deck, wide-eyed and trembling. The sunlight glinted off her dark hair, making it shine like burnished copper. Killian quickened his steps toward her.

"Lass—are you alright?" he asked in concern.

Milah's eyes faltered for a moment and she looked down. She then lifted her eyes to look straight at him up and whispered, "Take me with you! Oh, please—take me away from here."

A gleam of unshed tears pooled beneath her eyes. Killian was taken aback. A quick glance told him that his crew had stopped their various tasks and were staring at them with curious eyes.

"Did I ask you bilge rats to stop? Get back to work," he barked. The crew scurried back to their errands, but Killian knew that they would still be overheard.

"Come with me," said Killian, and led her to the Captain's cabin. A few wolf-whistles and comments, the likes of "Captain's getting ready to hoist the mainsail" floated to them as he walked Milah down the steps into his cabin, and shut the trapdoor above. Milah had gone red, and she pulled her arm away from Killian's grip.

"Ignore them," said Killian, and gently led her to sit on a chair. He leaned against his desk facing her. "Now tell me, lass, you wrote to me last night saying you didn't even want to see me again. Now, you're asking to sail with me. Is anything wrong?"

Milah looked down. "The life I have now—it isn't a life—not for me. I'll go mad if I stay here any longer. I want a fresh start as far away from here as possible."

"We pirates sail where we will and answer to no crown. But I must warn you, lass—a pirate's life is no sinecure. It invites bloodshed and danger."

"I've had enough safety and security," said Milah, with a curl of her lip. "All my troubles began with my husband's excessive concern over those very things. I've asked him several times—begged him—for us to leave the village and start over elsewhere, where the stigma of him being a war deserter wouldn't haunt our lives. He refuses to leave. Last night, after I got back from the Tavern, I pleaded with him again. But his answer was the same as usual. He doesn't even have the nerve to step outside the village anymore. I do. I don't want to look back to this moment and regret forever that I didn't take the only opportunity to escape my life that came my way."

When Killian remained silent, Milah's expression faltered. "Or, if you just take me to the next port—I will eventually find a way to pay you back for my passage. I can find work at a tavern somewhere . . ."

Killian held up his hand to interrupt her. "Lass, I'm not asking for money. I will gladly to take you anywhere you want if you really wish to leave." He paused for a moment. "I just . . . your son . . ."

Milah's face immediately crumpled in a pained expression.

"I barely spend time with him these days," said Milah in a whisper, her voice laced with bitterness and despair. "While I'm slogging away at the Tavern, my husband is off chasing dragonflies with our son. Half the housework is left unfinished . . . By the time they get home, I am exhausted and riled up; I end up yelling at Rumple in front of my son. It upsets Bae. I see it in his eyes—in the way he clings to his father even when I'm around."

"Don't take this the wrong way, love," said Killian. "But, would you trust your son with a man like that?"

Milah paused for a moment before answering him. She was knotting and unknotting the edge of her scarf restlessly. "About a year or so before, my son was bitten by a snake and his life was in terrible danger. We didn't have any money to pay for the cure. I was hoping my husband would be induced to act bravely to save his life. One act of courage on his part would have made up for years of cravenness."

"And he didn't do it?"

"No. He sold our unborn second child to save Baelfire's life. Bae was spared, but Rumple destroyed our future. However little my husband has cared about my needs and wishes, I know he will always put Baelfire first. He will take good care of our son."

"I'm sorry, love."

Milah was now crying in earnest. "I love my son," said Milah amidst sobs. "But whenever I look at him, I'm reminded of every single choice my husband robbed me of by using Baelfire to mask his cowardice. And I loathe myself for it."

Killian rubbed her shoulders soothingly as she struggled for composure. Only the vilest of men would sell his children like chattel. Killian's own father had sold him and his brother Liam into servitude when they were but little, in order to escape his debts. Their father's actions had haunted the brothers for the rest of their lives. They had escaped bondage because of Liam's courage and nobility, only to jump from the proverbial frying pan into the fire. They had joined the king's navy, learned how to be proper gentlemen, have good form, and all that it entailed. But none of that had protected Liam from falling victim to the king's perfidy.

Killian did not give more than a fleeting thought to how much self-deception, if any, was involved in Milah's confidence that her son would be well-cared of by his father if she left. But he did recognize a trapped soul when he saw one. He felt compassion for this woman whose fiery spirit was being quenched by her caged life with a man who took away her choices and refused to make any compromises. Killian decided that he would do everything in his power to help her get away from an unhappy life with such a man.

When Milah had somewhat quieted down, Killian handed her a cloth to dry her tears, and poured her a glass of water.

There was a knock at the door above.

Killian frowned. He raised his voice and said, "What is it?"

"Captain, it's urgent," said the voice of Haggerstone.

Killian growled, "Whatever it is, it had better be good."

"It's the man we saw at the Tavern yesterday. He says he's looking for his wife."

Killian heard Milah suck in a deep breath behind him. "I'll be up in a minute."

"Please don't send me away with him," said Milah, tensing.

"Love, no one's going to force you to do anything you don't want to," reassured Killian. "What would you like me to tell him?"

"I don't know . . ." said Milah. "I . . . I don't want to see him."

"Alright," said Killian. "You stay here below deck. I'll take care of it."

Milah nodded.


Killian leaned nonchalantly against the mast as a crew member brought Rumplestiltskin up on deck. In broad daylight, he looked even more wretched than he had seemed in the dim light of the tavern.

"On your feet for the Captain," said the crewman, as he hauled Rumple to his feet and thrust his walking stick at him.

"I—I remember you fr—from the bar," said the man.

"It's always nice to make an impression," Killian smirked. "Where are my manners? We haven't been formally introduced. Killian Jones. Now what are you doing aboard my ship?"

"W—well, you have my wife."

"I've had many a man's wife." The crew chuckled.

"No, you . . . you see, we . . . we have a son, and he needs his mother."

It did take a certain amount of foolhardy pluck to walk up to a pirate ship and ask for one's wife back, thought Killian. Perhaps this was the final push the man needed to find his courage. One act of bravery on her husband's part might not change Milah's mind about leaving him and their son, but for the sake of the child, Killian would give the man one final opportunity to make amends. After all, Milah had been prepared to start over with her coward of her husband, even after everything he'd done, if he had only been willing to move from the village.

"I have a ship full of men who need . . . companionship," said Killian, and the crew laughed uproariously.

"I—I'm begging you. Please let her go."

"I'm not much for bartering. That said, I do consider myself an honorable man, a man with a code. So . . . if you truly want your wife back"—Killian threw a sword in front of Rumple—"all you have to do is take her."

The man looked terrified, and eyed the sword as though it was a venomous cobra about to strike. How had this man even enlisted for battle when he didn't have the guts to pick up a bloody sword?

"Never been in a duel before, I take it? Well, it's quite simple, really. The pointy end goes in the other guy. Go on. Pick it up."

Killian didn't really want fight this man. It would be unsporting; an unequal contest of extremely short duration. All Killian wanted to see was if he would pick up the sword.

Rumplestiltskin did nothing.

Killian looked at him with contempt. What kind of a sad little man was too afraid to fight for his own wife?

"A man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets," Killian declared with finality.

"Please, sir." Rumple's voice broke a little. "What am I going to tell my boy?"

"Try the truth. His father's a coward."

Killian watched Rumple hobble away to the sound of the crew's derisive laughter.

A crew member, Watson, turned to Killian and said, "Who gets second dibs on the woman, Captain? Mebbe the rest of us should cut cards for it, eh?"

Killian swiftly drew back his arm and punched Watson squarely on the face. He toppled on to the deck like a ninepin and lay still.

"Alright, you mangy curs! Listen up, and listen carefully." Everyone quieted down and looked at him with wary expressions on their faces. "Milah is under my protection. Anyone who dares to touch her without her permission, or disrespects her in any way, will be whipped, keelhauled, and then made to walk the plank. Understand?"

There were murmurs of "Aye, Captain," from the crew.

"Now, hoist the mainsail. We leave at once."

The crew hurried to obey, and in a short while, they pulled out of port and into open waters.


Killian stood at the wheel, feeling the sea breeze caress his face as he stared at the ocean. Despite the years he had spent in servitude on a ship, Killian loved the sea. The undulating motion of the waves and the feel of the wind could always soothe the inner turmoil of his soul.

Haggerstone walked up to him. Without any preface, he began "Why is the woman still onboard? What do you think you are doing, Killian?"

His first mate was the only man in the crew who was allowed the liberty to address the captain by his given name, and only did so in private. Milah had now been aboard the Jolly for a week, and she seemed to be holding up as well as could be expected.

"I'm saving a woman from a loveless marriage," replied Killian.

"And you think it's your responsibility to save her?"

"It is when she asks me to."

Haggerstone gave Killian an exasperated look, and yet it was not unaffectionate. "It's unlucky to have a woman on board. This is not going to end well."

"That's my lookout," said Killian. "Take over the wheel. I'm going to my cabin."

Haggerstone shook his head and sighed as he did.


Killian descended the steps into his cabin. Milah looked up from braiding her hair and gave him a beautiful smile. Killian's heart felt lighter at the sight.

"Will you let me take you above deck? It's glorious outside," said Killian.

Except for an hour here and there spent above deck, Milah had kept herself confined to his cabin. He had assured her of her safety with the crew. In light of his warning, the crew had treated her with respect and courtesy, which made Milah feel more and more comfortable about venturing above. She slept in his bed at nights, while he curled up on a hammock, despite her protests that she should be the one to do so.

"In a little while, yes," said Milah. "But first I would like to talk to you about something, Captain."

Killian pulled up a chair and sat down by her.

"I wanted to thank you for taking me with you," said Milah. She held up her hand to stop Killian from interrupting her. "I also wanted to know when we would arrive at the next port."

Killian felt a tinge of disappointment. "Eager to leave my ship, lass?"

"I—I don't want to impose on you," she faltered.

Killian took her hand in his. "If you want me to set you down at the next port I will, love. But you are welcome to sail with me and my crew for longer, if you wish to."

"What about your crewmen? What will they say to me continuing to stay on?"

"My crew knows better than to contradict my orders," he said, frowning for a moment. "Besides, most of them have sailed with me for years. They are a loyal bunch."

"I haven't seen the ocean beyond our small port . . ." she said with longing.

"There are cities where the air smells of spices, and women are carried on jeweled chairs."

"It sounds wonderful."

"Would you like to see that?"

Milah's eyes gleamed. "I would love it above all things."

"Now that we have settled that matter . . ." said the captain. "Let's talk about another thing. You may call me Killian, alright? You don't have to call me 'Captain'."

Milah smiled and nodded. "And you may call me Milah."

"So, where would like to sail to first, Milah?"

"Somewhere I can get clothes fit to sail," she said, looking down ruefully at the dress she'd been wearing for the past week.

Killian laughed. Gently raising her hand to his lips, giving her time to stop him if she wanted to, he placed a feather-soft kiss on her knuckles. "It shall be done."

Milah's breath hitched, and she blushed a deep red. Slowly, tremblingly, she brought her other hand up to his face and softly caressed him.

Her touch was electric. Killian's gaze dropped to her lips, and she licked them in response. They moved forward at the same time, caught the other's eye, and stopped. The hesitancy he was feeling was absurd, but she was a fragile thing, and Killian did not want to hurt her.

"Perhaps I ought to go above deck," he whispered.

"Or perhaps, you ought to stay," returned Milah. With a soft smile, she pulled him in for a kiss.


Hook was seated by a window at a tavern, listening to a young woman singing a melodious sea shanty.

"I'll tell you a tale of the bottomless blue

And it's hey, to the starboard, heave ho

Look out, lad, a mermaid be waiting for you

In mysterious fathoms below

Mysterious fathoms below . . ."

A memory from one of his early days in Neverland assaulted him—steadying the ship during a sudden squall—an enchaining voice from out of the mists holding him and his crew entranced and unmoving as the ship was buffeted towards dangerous rocks—the singing abruptly ceasing—coming to his senses—and a mad rush to the helm to divert the Jolly from being dashed against the rocks and shipwrecked.

"That voice, Captain . . . What was it?" Mr. Smee had asked.

"The most dangerous creature in all the seas: a mermaid," he'd replied.

Hook was brought back to the present by the sound of applause as the young woman finished her song. He walked up to her and said, "I'd recognize that voice anywhere. You're the mermaid who nearly sank my ship." The girl's gaze faltered. She looked alarmed. "But you didn't. For that, I owe you a drink," he finished.

With a relieved and grateful smile, the girl allowed him to lead her to a table. Hook called for a couple of pints of beer to be brought to the table.

The girl, Ursula, for that's who she turned out to be—the daughter of the sea-god Poseidon—explained her predicament to Hook.

Recalling the incident Hook had alluded to, she added, "After I let you escape, my father said I had to obey his rules if I wanted to live in his ocean."

"Ah, I see you don't take well to ultimatums."

Ursula chuckled and pointed at an intricately patterned bracelet on her wrist. "I broke into his vault and stole this. It lets me walk on land. As long as I am not in the ocean, my father cannot force me to do anything."

"Well, you're a brave lass," said Hook with sincerity. The girl was young, but she had spirit, and refused to submit to unilateral authority. He could relate to those qualities very well.

"My father wasn't always so cruel, you know. He used to be happy. Listening to my mother and me sing used to bring him joy."

"What changed, love?"

"My mother was killed by a pirate. That's why he forbade me to sing, except to guide sailors to their doom. He turned my voice into a weapon. But it's all I have left of my mother. Singing is the only way to keep her spirit alive."

Killian's own mother had died too long ago, but he did have a hazy memory of Liam and himself lying down with their heads on her lap as she sang them to sleep.

"You have a rare gift. Your voice can soothe even the most haunted soul," he told Ursula.

"You really think so?" asked the girl eagerly.

"For almost a century, my every waking moment has been consumed by one thought—making an evil man pay for what he did to the woman I loved. Listening to your voice—took away that pain. Even if it was only for a brief moment."

"That's all I ever wanted: to make people happy."

"Well, that's what you're doing. So, why are you singing in this rat's nest?"

"I'm saving for passage to Glowerhaven. My mother said it was her favorite place to sing. I'm trying to earn enough gold to—"

"Oh, you don't need gold for that trip," Hook assured her.

"I won't?"

"Not if I take you."

Ursula looked touched. "You'd really do that?"

"Listen, I came here on an errand for Pan, which I completed this morning. I have a bean that is enchanted to take me to Neverland. Come along with me. Pan has promised to get me a portal back to the Enchanted Forest once I finished this job for him. The first thing I'll do once we're back in the Enchanted Forest is to take you to Glowerhaven."

Ursula nodded happily. "I'll go get my things and meet you outside the tavern."

Hook settled his tab and stepped out. He sensed someone standing by the door moving quickly toward him. Before he could do more than raise his hook, he was grabbed by two men, and a hood was pulled over his head. The men dragged him to a secluded area, where one of them removed his hood.

Hook scoffed as his eyes fell on a dark man standing in front of him, trident in hand.

Poseidon.

"You dare lay your hands on me, you're dead," he warned. God or not, he would make him pay.

"You listen to me," said Poseidon. "You are not taking my daughter to Glowerhaven."

Hook chucked. "Well, threatening me isn't going to make her change her mind. She'll find another way even if I don't take her."

Poseidon held out a small shell. "I don't need to change her mind. You do."

"How's a seashell going to help me?"

Poseidon waved his trident over the seashell. It glowed briefly. "It's now enchanted to take away her reason to leave: her voice. Or rather, her singing voice. If she can't sing, she'll return to the sea, where she belongs."

A cruel punishment indeed for someone with the gift of music.

"She told me what that voice means to her. I won't betray her, not since she spared my ship."

"What if I could offer you a way to destroy the Dark One?"

"What do you know about my feud with the Crocodile?"

"I know you've spent a lifetime searching for a way to kill him. I can offer you magic that will finally set you free."

"What kind of magic do you mean?"

"Squid ink. A single drop is potent enough to paralyze any being, even Rumplestiltskin."

Hook was shaken. Getting the dagger from the Dark One would be child's play once he had him paralyzed. The only other place to get squid ink was in Neverland, but Pan kept a tight hold of the supply. In all the centuries, his crew had never been able to capture a single magical squid, and it wasn't for the lack of trying.

"All I have to do is steal your daughter's singing voice?"

"It's simple, pirate. Just show her how terrible humans really can be."


They were back in Neverland and on the Jolly. Ursula was singing, much to the enjoyment of the crew. Hook made his way down the deck to her.

"Mr. Smee, clear the deck," ordered Hook. "I'd like a moment alone with our guest."

Smee whistled to signal the crew to leave Ursula and Hook alone. Ursula stopped her singing when she realized Hook wanted to talk to her.

"I hope you don't mind. I thought your crew might like something to work by."

"Aye. It's beautiful. But I'm afraid I've got something to show you." He held out his hand to reveal the shell that Poseidon had given him.

"I know what that is. Why do you have that? Please don't use it!" Ursula looked frightened.

"Don't worry. I won't," Hook reassured. "But you must know—your father gave this to me. He thought you'd return home if you could no longer sing. In exchange for helping him, he offered me squid ink—a weapon that would finally let me get my revenge against the Dark One."

"And you would sacrifice that prize for me?"

"I know that voice is the only thing you have left of your mother. If I had something left of my Milah . . ." he trailed off. "Look, I may be a pirate—but I have a code. And I promise to never take that voice from you."

"But that means you'll not be able to get your revenge."

"Not necessarily. You stole that bracelet from your father's vault. I'd wager that's where he keeps the squid ink."

"You want me to steal it for you."

"Once we get back to the Enchanted Forest, I'll take you to Glowerhaven and wherever else you want to go," he promised.

"Then we can both get what we want," said Ursula eagerly.

"Aye. Now you're thinking like a pirate," he said and smiled.


Hook was waiting on the deck when Ursula returned. She had the squid ink with her.

"I trust that you didn't run into any trouble," he asked.

"Nothing I couldn't handle."

"I've waited a long time for this. I couldn't have done this without your help, Ursula. I'll go get the portal from Pan. Then I'll take you to the Enchanted Forest with me."

"You're not taking her anywhere," said a voice behind them.

Hook turned to see Poseidon and his men on the ship. His crew drew their swords immediately.

"Stand down, men," said Hook. "This is between me and the sea king."

"No! It's about me," interrupted Ursula. "Hook told me what you asked him to do. You were trying to take away the only thing I have left of mother."

"So I wouldn't lose you the way I lost her." He then turned to Hook. "You may have fooled my daughter, but I know exactly what you are. You only care about one thing: your vengeance"

Poseidon pointed his trident at Hook. The squid ink disappeared from Hook's hand and reappeared in Poseidon's. "Now you'll never get it."

"You have no idea what you've just done." Furious, Hook attempted to draw his sword to strike Poseidon, but was frozen in place by the god.

"You dare attack a deity?"

"I don't have to kill you to make you suffer. I know I'm not the only one consumed by vengeance."

With cold fury, Hook turned to Ursula and held the shell out. He could see the enchantment drawing Ursula's voice into itself.

"No!" Ursula gave a heart-rending cry.

Hook felt a flash of guilt, which he resolutely pushed away. Turning back to Poseidon, he said, "Now you'll never sink another ship with this."

"How could you? You said you had a code. You said you'd never steal my voice," Ursula cried-out.

"That was before your father destroyed my chance at revenge. Now, I've destroyed his."

"My father is a tyrant, but you're no better," spat Ursula. She gestured at the shell. "Keep it. If this is what humans are like, no one deserves to hear my voice."

With that, Ursula unfastened the enchanted bracelet from her wrist and jumped off the side of the ship. Her father called after her, but she had gone. Poseidon turned to Hook and ordered, "Give me the shell."

"And give you the satisfaction of returning it to her?" Hook scoffed and tightened his hold on the enchanted sea-shell. He was determined to crush it if the god even lifted an eyebrow in its direction. "Now go. Before I destroy it and everything you hold dear."

Once Poseidon and his men had cleared off, Hook went down to his cabin. He unlatched his hook from his brace, and used it to unlock a hidden panel in the wall where he kept some extremely valuable objects. He placed the enchanted shell inside and locked it, then refastened his hook. A mixture of rage and shame threatened to overwhelm him, and he struggled against it. For a brief moment, he wondered if revenge was worth the destruction of a young girl's dreams. Was it really worth turning into a monster for the sake of destroying another? He glanced at the rings he wore on his hand—all keepsakes from people he had killed for various reasons on different occasions. No, he was not turning into a monster—he was already one. Only a monster could destroy another monster. A good person going against beings like Pan and the Dark One would only be crushed and destroyed. Just like Liam, Milah, and countless others had been. And perhaps, one day, after he'd had his revenge, he would return Ursula's voice to her. As for now, he would go to Pan, obtain the portal from the boy-demon, and get the hell out of Neverland.


A/N: Surprise! I hope you enjoyed the update. :-) Many, many thanks to emmaswanchoosesyou/mearcats for the excellent beta job. If you read the chapter, please consider leaving a review. It feels like I'm writing into a void sometimes. ;-)