Disclaimer: Do you think I'd be writing fanfiction if I owned them? Unfortunately, I am not in possession of Hook, Emma, Henry, or any other of my pretty, pretty friends. Until then, they're just going to be played around with a li'l bit.

Chapter Three:
All Alone (Run, Run, Run Away)

Run, run, run and hide

Somewhere no one else can find

Tall trees bend and lean pointing where to go

Where you will still be all alone

Run fast as you can

Run, Run, Run Away

Run, Run, Run Away

Catcalls and rowdy laughter sound out from the cramped space of a portside village tavern, men sitting in chairs and clinking glasses of ale. A teenage Killian Jones sits at a bar, nursing a glass of rum and regaling a pretty blonde girl from the village with stories of his father's adventures. He's only met him the one time, six years before, but his mother has told him much as well.

"Has he really been to all those realms?" the girl asks, resting one arm on the bar counter as she looks at him with big blue eyes.

Killian nods, taking a gulp of rum. He leans back. "Oh yeah, he's been everywhere! Someday I'd like to do that...sail the lands, travel. See new things. Have adventures, y'know?"

His hopes to find a person that understands his dreams would have been dashed if he'd noticed that the rosy-pink lipped smile she gives him is nowhere near being genuine, but Killian is already half-drunk to care. "Oh, of course! You'd bring me with you, wouldn't you?"

The teenage boy flashes her with a wide, flirtatious grin, the type that has all the other girls in the village swooning over him. He's only sixteen but is already incredibly handsome-bright eyes, dark hair, a signature smirk. "Why wouldn't I, darling? Oh, yeah, I'll travel everywhere, go to every realm. I'll have my own ship," –

"KILLIAN JONES!" His words are cut off by a sharp shout emanating from the entrance to the tavern. Killian spins around in his chair to be assaulted with the sight of his forty-something mother standing in the doorway, hands on hips, a sharp glare on her face.

The boy spins around to look at the girl he'd been talking to a few moments before, but she'd slipped off. He turns back only to have a calloused, work-worn hand grip his arm and drag him out of the bar, hoots and shouts of 'Momma's boy' trailing in his wake.

As soon as they're outside and out of out sight Killian rounds on his mother, eyes blazing with the fury teenagers emit oh-so-well. "What the hell was that?" he snaps.

"Language, Killian! And hush your voice, no need to display your business to everyone." His mother chastises.

He rolls his eyes, "As if you didn't just do that. I'm practically an adult, and you just walked in there screaming at me!"

Immediately her face darkens, and she looks down, wringing her hands and adjusting her modest, sensible dress.

"Mother...?" Killian begins, looking at her curiously. She looks back up at him, and he's surprised to see her eyes glazed over with tears, "Mother, what happened?"

She brushes him away and starts to turn, as if to leave, "It's nothing, Killian, my son. You're right, you're practically an adult now. There's no reason for me to bother you with this."

"Tell me."

"Killian..."

He curses. She's too distraught to reprimand him. "Tell me!" he screams.

"Your father is dead!" his mother continues, even as a look of shock hits Killian's face, "Your father is dead, he died, someone ripped out his heart, he's dead, and you can't come back from death, not even when you were the caretaker of them, no you can't. See, see what you've done?"

Killian stumbles backward, hitting the brick wall of the tavern behind him. "What I've done...?" he asks, voice wavering on the edge of fear.

"Yes, you!" she screams, eyes brimming with tears, "Because you're his son, and Calypso needs a heir to fill his role! Do his job! She's going to take you away from me, take you to the locker and enslave you for eternity, and it's your fault, because now I'm going to lose you! Okay? Okay? Are you happy now? I told you!"

"Dad...dad is dead? Dead...?"

"Dead! Gone! He's never coming back. I was a fool to fall in love with a man such as Davy Jones, my mother said it herself. 'Don't go running off with that man, Wendy Darling,' she said, 'He'll only bring you pain, he doesn't love you, he loves her,' she said. And now she's dead, and he's dead, and Calypso is going to take you away too." His mother crumples to the ground and clutches her head in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably.

Killian tentatively reaches out to touch her arm, and his mother looks up at him, eyes alight with fury and pain. It is only then that he notices the grey streaking through her russet hair, only then that he sees the fatigue in her eyes and the wrinkles forming on her hands. "Who's...who's Calypso?" he asks.

"Sea goddess. Witch. She'll take you, take you and not bring you back..." his mother mumbles something under her breath, hanging her head, "Run, Killian."

"What?"

She looks up, and this is the last time Killian sees his mother. "She'll take you, Killian, so run. Run, and don't look back."

He staggers a few feet back in shock before turning around and dashing off down the street, toward the docks, leaving behind the haunting echoes of his mother's silent tears as tears of his own stream down his face.

Emma stares at Hook as he stands there, his now-empty hand still formed as if it was clutching the glass-which is on the floor, scattered around like crystalline diamonds. He moves, slightly; his head looks down, and then up at her, pale blue eyes meeting her own hazel ones. "Emma?" he asks, wide-eyed.

It's the first time he's called me anything other than 'Swan', she thinks. She take an angry step forward, walls firmly in place and heavily barricaded. "What the hell is going on?"

"Emma..." Hook begins, but she cuts him off furiously.

"I asked you a question, Hook. What the hell is going on?" Emma says her voice full of anger, practically yelling. "Did you take Henry? Is this part of some sick, twisted, plan to get at your 'crocodile'? Because I can tell you, you say that you're nothing like him, but he's just the same, always plotting, always manipulating."

"Em-Swan, I didn't..."

"Didn't what? I swear if you hurt Henry you won't even have a life left to regret!" Emma

Hook takes a step forward-No longer Killian, but Hook-until he's right in her face. "I didn't take your son! I have no idea where he is. And I'm not like that bloody beast!"

Suddenly he notices a change in her face-fear-and realizes that his hook had come to rest at her neck. He looks at it, and, as if startled by the fact that he's seeing metal instead of flesh, stumbles back, clutching the bedpost for support and cursing under his breath. "Swan..."

Now that the threat is gone; Emma's anger replaces her fright. She grabs the captain by the lapels of his coat and yanks him up until he's facing her. "You'd better give me an answer, Hook, because if you know anything about my son-Oh, what the hell, if there's anything you're not telling me in general, spit it out."

He mumbles something, but she can't hear. "What?"

He says it again. "Calypso,"

"Calypso? As in, Pirates of the Caribbean, Jack Sparrow, sea goddess, Calypso?" Emma says, looking incredulous. "Oh, please don't tell me he's your distant cousin or something."

"I don't know who bloody Jack Sparrow is, but I can assure you, love, that Calypso is very real, and she's no cousin of mine." Hook replies, straightening himself until he's standing firmly on the ground again.

"Okay," Emma gives him a confused look, "Okay, so Calypso is real, along with Cinderella, and Captain Hook, and Doctor Freakin' Frankenstein...what does that have to do with Henry?"

Hook doesn't comment, just turns and goes over to his desk, where the bottle of rum still sits. "I need a drink," he mutters, "More than one, probably."

A hand reaches out and grabs the bottle before he can. Emma holds it above her head. "No rum, not until you give me some answers!"

Hook sighs and rolls his head back, staring up at the ceiling, then yanks the bottle out of her hand-he is taller than her, after all. "Trust me, love, you need rum for this story."

"Judging by the baffled look on your face, love, Calypso is also a 'commodity' in your world?" Hook begins, pouring himself a glass of rum. Emma rolls her eyes but doesn't comment (He's a pirate; she'd be more surprised if he didn't have rum-her attempt at talking to him when he wasn't drunk had pretty much failed before she even tried it).

"She's a character in a movie."

"...Movie?"

Emma gestures randomly to the side. "Moving pictures, magic box, whatever you want to call it."

Hook is briefly reminded of seeing such a thing around town. "What is she like in this...movie?"

"Scary?" Emma shrugs. "Some woman that lives in a swamp and casts spells. She gives out jars of dirt. I haven't seen it since I was a lot younger, really, I can't remember."

"Dirt?"

"Uh-huh."

"Much like your rendition of the beanstalk story, it sounds much more delightful than the real one."

Emma decides not to comment on the fact that the idea of Snow White trying to kill bluebirds with a broom (She had read some of the ridiculous book) was pretty weird in its own right, and that the Mad Hatter was also a psycho kidnapper...well, it was best not to think about it for too long. "What's the real story, then?"

Hook takes another swig of rum, and then sets the glass down as he leans against the desk. "Calypso, the most irritating sea goddess known to man gave my father the job of ferrying souls to the next world. Short to say, his heart was ripped out, he died, and the job passed on to me, being his heir. I ran from Calypso and refused to do my job, and I've been running ever since."

Emma tilts her head. "Your...father?"

"Yes, love, that's why the task was given to me. I was his only son."

Emma does not like where this is going-she remembers quite enough of those Pirates of the Caribbean movies to know that the only person ever 'tasked' with such a job by Calypso was a guy with tentacles for a beard, who ruled over a ship of fish people. "Killia-Hook," – she stops herself before she says his first name, suddenly recalling what last name was paired with that. "Killian Jones?"

Hook downs the rest of his rum. "That is my name, lass, don't overuse it."

"Hook..." Emma begins, "What was your father's first name?"

"David- Davy, really. What's it matter?" Hook raises an eyebrow.

"Oh, hell," Emma mutters.

It seems Hook can't resist one of his comments-although at this point, Emma can't tell whether it's a genuine comment or an attempt at being annoying. "Actually, they called it Davy Jones' Locker, but that's pretty accurate too."

"Oh, hell." Emma repeats. "Your father is Davy Jones, and Calypso now wants you to go ferry souls to the Locker or the Underworld or whatever the hell you call it?"

"I knew you were a smart lass," Hook replies nonchalantly.

Emma straightens herself from her position leaning against the wall and takes a careful step towards the pirate Captain. "What does any of that have to do with my son?"

Hook realizes then that he really can't tell her without things getting awkward, and much as he loves the blush that creeps up the back of her neck, or the continuous eye rolling she gives him when he's embarrassed, somehow he doesn't think that she'd take kindly to the fact that Calypso might have taken her son to get to her, and therefore him. "Well, love..." he begins, trying to draw out the conversation, hoping that something will interrupt them (At this point, an angry Prince Charming might actually be preferable).

"Hook," Emma glares at him, "What does Calypso have to do with my son?"

And then he gets the interruption he wanted-all of a sudden, the lights on the ship wink out and everything is plunged into total blackness. Hook stumbles forward, catching himself on the bedpost as the ship starts to rock wildly. The sound of glass shattering and books falling of shelves sounds out. "HOOK, what the HELL is going-?" a female scream comes from nearby, and a warm body falls into his arms.

A/N: *Insert Dramatic Music*. Are you scared yet? Should you be scared?

See that box there? It's calling your name, yes, yes it is.