A/N: Hey! I've actually updated again before the month was over! I know, I surprise myself. Hopefully things will go a little faster since I've written the last chapter of this and have the outline for the sequel. My muse works in mysterious ways.
Thanks to all those who have read, reviewed, and or favorited any of my stories. You're the cream in my coffee, the cinnamon on my hot chocolate!
Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own Once Upon a Time or any of its characters. The privilege belongs to KitsWitz (Adam Horowitz and Ed Kitsis) and ABC Studios. Lucky duckies.
The Best Medicine
In his over 300 years of existence, Killian Jones has endured more injuries than he had ever hoped to count, tales of his survival carved in the scars littered over his body. These injuries have ranged from easily shrugged off nicks from swinging swords, to knocks on the head that had him hearing bells for days, and of course the forcible removal of his hand. That one had him feeling the grim reaper's ice cold breath on his neck as he struggled to survive. Except for the injury that gave birth to his infamous moniker, he bore his injuries with a careless stoicism and a reckless wit.
It didn't mean that he didn't feel pain, but Hook was the Ultimate Pirate Captain, one of the most feared in all the realms, and merciless bloodthirsty pirates don't cry and whine about their sufferings. They simply bury it under layers of bravado and bluster, and topping it all with a generous serving of swagger. A pirate would patch themselves up, stitch whatever needs to be stitched, and later tell tall tales of near death moments boisterously with several tankards of ale and plenty of embellishment to drunken crowds. It's what was needed to survive in the cut throat world of piracy, and no one excelled at this more than Hook. The brutal grace of his fighting skills and his ability to seemingly shrug off injuries that would bring lesser men to their knees and pleading for mercy, has all added to the mystique of the bloodthirsty, and seemingly impossible to kill Captain Hook. He would grin wickedly whenever someone brought up the idea, and there certainly were times, especially after hard fought victories when he felt invincible.
He certainly didn't feel invincible today.
Killian could feel every single one of his 300 years of existence as he slowly and painfully made his way across town to his ship, sticking to alleyways and avoiding the unrelenting light of the sun as much as possible. Even though the Crocodile's shop wasn't too far from the docks, it took him what felt to be a small portion of eternity to return to his ship, with him being unable to move with his usual quickness and grace. Killian stumbled and fumbled, limbs heavy and thick, his stomach churned and his head swam to the tune of the church bells that seemed to be ringing incessantly in his ears. His skull felt leaden, and it hurt even to think, but at least he had managed to return to his safe haven, and his chambers offered him a reprieve from the cursed brightness of the mercilessly cloudless sky, with the sun searing his eyes and burning into his brain.
He nearly wept with relief as he approached his beloved ship, just a few mere steps from his gangplank when the soothing sounds of the waves and seagulls were interrupted by a most vile and brutal shrill shredding through the air. With a groan, Killian realized it was the blasted cellular phone given to him by David for communication purposes that was making the confounded racket. For a moment, he tried to cease the noise it created, but the ache in his head caused him to temporarily forget the lessons Dave and Emma gave him on how to operate the device. In frustration, he threw it against the boards of the pier and it shattered satisfyingly. With a grunt, he continued on to his ship, trusting that if it were truly important Dave would come and seek him out on the Jolly. He found that nearly everyone in Storybrooke had an unnatural obsession with using those infernal devices. Granted, they were quite useful for emergency situations, and he was 'getting the hang of it' as Henry would say, but at the moment he was glad to be rid of it. Knowing Dave however, he would insist on giving Killian another one, accompanied by another rousing speech on the responsibility of having a 'cell phone' and using it to keep contact with he and Emma.
His pounding skull told him to worry about that later. He climbed the gangplank, and stumbled to his quarters, spreading out upon his bunk, revelling in the cool and quiet of his quarters as he tried to still the pounding in his skull and the roiling in his stomach.
At this point, even the slow gentle rocking of the Jolly did nothing to soothe him, but there was really nothing for it. In all honesty he knew that he should expect plenty more injuries if he's to continue standing by his Swan's side (the answer to that question being painfully obvious) and helping to protect all she holds dear, but bloody hell if he wasn't miserable at that moment. The only thing that made his suffering worthwhile was the hope that his Swan was no longer suffering from this pain. He could bear it, he's done so before. All he needed was his usual treatment method in the form of a little peace and quiet, and if not for the churning in his gut he would've partaken in a bit of rum as well, so solitude will have to do for now.
Gingerly, he reached out for the other pillow and placed it over his head, the darkness that it afforded him, not to mention the sounds it muffled was heavenly. Despite his internal bellyaching he knew he only needed a day or so to recover and he would be right as rain. Just a little darkness, some solitude….
Suddenly, he heard an unmistakable creaking coming from the deck. Knowing his ship as well as he did, he could pinpoint the exact location of the board that squeaked. Whoever was on deck thought themselves stealthy and sly, but he could hear them. Seems as though there were two people roaming on the deck above, and heading to his quarters.
He bit back a groan as he eased himself off his bed. Killian wasn't in the best condition to be the recipient of another ambush, but it appears as one was ready for him. Protecting Emma, while he could never regret such a decision, has now left him vulnerable. Sliding out his sword as quietly as possible out of its scabbard, he stepped back into the darkest corner of his room and allowed the shadows to hide him there. Killian's eyesight quickly adjusted to the dark, and he could make out the two figures who had trespassed into his private sanctuary. They were not as tall as he was, stocky and solidly built, made for scrapping and close quarter fights, something for which he didn't have the physical or mental capacity at the moment. He needed to be rid of these blackguards quickly. He positioned himself behind them, waiting for just the right moment before placing the blade against the throat of one man, while he dug his hook against the neck of the other.
Just as he was about to quickly dispatch the both of them, one of them gruffly declared "Hook, the Saviour, and the Royal Family won't let you get away with this."
"Leroy, shut up!" whimpered the other man.
"If he's gonna kill us, he should know that Charming and Snow will relentlessly track he and George's other minions down. There won't be anywhere they can hide for long," snarled Leroy, tensing as if he was getting ready to attack, and using insults and bravado as a distraction. "And when they figure out which rock you and your fellow scumbags have hidden under, Emma will use each one of your asses for target practice, unless Hook gets to you first. Killing friends of his on his ship will just piss him off. And pissing off Hook is basically a death wish. The guy has a talent for torture, causing extreme agony and spilling blood, you could ask your pals about it. Oh wait...they're dead. To ask them you'd need a ouija board.
"Trust me. Hook will come after you and have you pleading for him to just kill you." Leroy exclaimed.
"Really? I'm touched that you think so highly of me." Killian couldn't help but chuckle, even though the reverberations it caused sent his head spinning.
"Jones you asshole!" Leroy spat, shoving Killian hard enough that Killian tumbled onto the floor. "You scared the shit out of us. And here we were, coming all the way over to the docks to see if you survived your private meeting with Gold."
Killian wanted to reply with a quick quip, or something terribly witty but he was concentrating on not releasing the contents of his stomach on his floor. The shadows in the room seemed to darken and threatened to engulf him. He closed his eyes, and took several deep breaths before he felt his stomach and his head be calm enough to move into a sitting position.
"What the hell, I didn't shove him hard enough to hurt him..." he heard Leroy grumble.
"Are you okay Jones?" asked Dopey tentatively.
"m'fine mate," he managed to mumble, shifting enough so that he could lean against his bed. "Just a bit of a headache is all."
"Bullshit," Leroy cursed, flicking on a mini flashlight from his keychain and aiming it at Killian. "You look like you've been hit by a car. Again."
"Oi, watch where you aim that light will you," growled Killian, shielding his eyes from the flashlight's beam.
"What the hell did Gold do to you?" pressed Leroy. "God, what the hell do I tell the Sheriff? She's gonna want Gold's ass on a pike."
"You're supposed to put your enemy's head on a pike," Killian commented. "Though your way is rather entertaining."
"Seriously Jones, what happened and should we be expecting another curse to hit the town?" Leroy grumbled.
"That's a really pretty necklace Jones, where did you get it?" Dopey asked innocently. Killian was slightly taken aback by the seemingly out of turn question, and to his dismay, Leroy picked up on his reaction.
"Does your current condition have anything to do with that necklace?" Leroy figured it out, crossing his arms over his chest in a universal sign of stubbornness. "A necklace that we haven't seen you with before your meeting with Gold?"
He was about to make some off hand comment on pirates liking shiny things, or the dwarves attention to his preferences towards jewelry, but he didn't. Perhaps because he was tired, and sore, and his head felt it was going to burst from his skull, and he felt vulnerable and the person who he trusted above all others was the person he couldn't tell, he disclosed his deal to two people whom he surprisingly considered friends. He spoke of the Crocodile's offer, what the pendant was supposed to do and how it impacted himself and Emma. When he was done speaking, he felt a weight lift off of his chest and let out a sigh of relief. He half expected a lecture of some sort, how it was stupid to trust the Crocodile and how he has now left himself vulnerable, all of which he already knows. But he couldn't bring himself to regret his actions, especially if there's a chance that he could spare Emma any pain.
Instead of saying anything, Leroy searched his pockets and from one of them procured a strange looking white bottle, took out two pellets and handed them to Killian.
"Take them, they're medicine." Leroy informed him. "They're called pain killers, they help you with any aches and pains you have. They're easier to take with water."
"They're not like the kind that was given to me at the hospital are they?" asked Killian wearily. "They won't make me groggy will they?"
"Nah, this is just some over the counter stuff," Leroy replied. "The stuff they give you at the hospital can be addictive if you're not careful. As it is, we dwarves have to take some every day because of the work we do at the mines. It ain't easy mining fairy rock you know. That stuff is harder than diamonds, and if you try and use tools from this realm on it, those picks would shatter. The only thing that will work are our enchanted pick axes. And even then, the reverberations you get when you hit the stone hurt like hell. After 8 hours of swinging at rock, you feel like the rock hit you back just as hard. That's why we carry around pain killers. If we didn't, there's no way we would be able to function after a day's work."
"It's even worse if you accidentally touch a wall that someone is working on," Dopey added. "It's one of the first lessons we learn when we first enter the mines. All of us working on one wall might end up destabilize the mine, so we each work on our own rock walls. We never lean on or touch someone else's wall because-"
"Because the reverberations travelling through you from the wall make you feel like you're being ripped apart," Leroy continued. "Doesn't leave any scars thank gods, but it hurts like a bitch. We've all done it at least once, and we quickly remember never to do it again."
"Good to know." Muttered Killian, wondering if these dwarves never stop talking.
"Shut up and take your pills," grumbled Leroy, noticing that Jones still looked green around the gills. "It won't be as effective as the stuff docs prescribe, but it'll help dull the ache a bit. Keep the bottle, take 2 tablets every 8 hours or so. Don't take more than 6 a day though, it'll make you sick. And it isn't a good idea to take them on an empty stomach either. Got anything to eat around here?"
Killian instructed them on how to get to his galley where Emma had stored some "essentials" including cases of water and some strange consumables she called snacks, so that they didn't have to go out and get something from Grannies every time she and Henry were there and got hungry. Dopey came back with a bottle of water and a couple of granola bars for Jones and a bag of chips for them to share. It wasn't a proper meal, but at least his stomach wasn't empty, and he took a nap after swallowing down the tablets that Leroy handed to him. When Killian woke up an hour later feeling a bit better than when he had left Gold's shop, the rest of the dwarves had arrived, baring gifts of Grannies chicken soup. They ate together in the galley, trying to remember to keep quiet for the sake of Killian's head. He couldn't help but feel touched by their camaraderie, it had been a long time since he had actual friends, not just crew - but friends. And he could have missed out on all of this if not for his Swan.
"Has anyone called the Charmings to see how Emma is faring?" Killian asked, hoping that the effects of the pendant would have reached her by now, especially since he was already feeling affected by it.
"Yes, just before we got here, I called David," replied Sneezy. "He said that she had made a miraculous recovery just after they left the hospital. She's feeling better than ever."
"Glad to hear it." Killian smiled, taking another sip of his soup and feeling thankful that his stomach had finally settled down. The pain in his head was still there, but it didn't throb as much and his skull no longer felt as though it would shatter from the pressure in his brain. He was also glad to have most of his coordination returned to him.
"So, what are we gonna do about the prisoners we have in the hold?" asked Sneezy. "We can't keep them there forever, and eventually George and his men are going to come for them. When are we going to take them to the Sheriff's office and lock them up? That was the plan wasn't it?"
"We can't take them there yet," argued Leroy. "We have to find out what else they have planned. There has to be at least a plan B. We need to make them tell us what plan B is."
"How are we going to do that?" asked Happy after Bashful whispered in his ear.
"I have an idea," Killian grinned. "Tell me, who else has access to your mines?"
"What are you thinking brother?" asked Leroy, liking the look of mischief in Killian's eyes.
"Perhaps a little lesson in mining Fairy Rock is in order." replied Killian with a smirk.
"You sure you're up for it?" Leroy chuckled.
"A little bit of mischief is the best medicine for a pirate."