Killian approached the hatch with a mixture of wariness and chagrin. He'd left Emma locked in the cabin for the better part of the day, and while she certainly wasn't suffering any serious hardship over it, he could hardly expect her to greet him with a smile.
Especially after he'd touched her as he had. Really, it wasn't well done of him. He was a mass of emotions from the moment she appeared on the deck and none of those emotions were particularly good to be feeling again. This woman could tie him up in knots like no one else, and apparently, that hadn't changed much. So he did the only thing he could do - he took control of the situation.
Damned she-demon. He'd shown her clearly who was in command on his ship, but why then did he feel like she was pulling his strings like a master puppeteer once more? He felt like a boy again. Like he'd been caught breaking windows with rocks and now it was time to face Liam and own up to his bad behavior. He'd felt so damned uncomfortable, he'd put off going down there until she must surely be half-starved and probably more than a little angry.
There was nothing for it. He was going to have to face her. He crouched down, unlocking the hatch and waited a moment, listening. He carefully slid the hatch back, waiting once again for his eyes to adjust to the semi-darkness below. As he slowly descended, he saw that she'd managed to light the candle on the table and the lantern by the bed. She was sitting at the table, barely glancing at him as he stepped off the ladder.
"I've brought you some food," he said gruffly, carrying a sack over and setting it down in front of her. "I'm afraid it's only dried beef and apples. I ended up being at sea a tad longer than I'd planned. I can probably manage something similar to pancakes in the morning, if you'd like, though you'll have to make do with jam instead of syrup."
He gave her an overly bright smile, which didn't seem to alter her expression one bit. He pushed the sack of food toward her, then backed up, rubbing his ear. "Well, then. I'll just leave the hatch open. You're welcome to take your dinner up on deck. The sunset is quite spectacular."
She looked away from him, toward the window. And she still wasn't talking. He crossed his arms, grinding his teeth together a bit in frustration. Just like a woman to give him the silent treatment. She was trying to make him feel bad and bugger him if it wasn't working.
"Aren't you going to say something?" he asked, a bit petulantly. "Look, I know you're most likely angry with me - "
"Angry?" Her voice made it clear that the term was a vast understatement.
"I shouldn't have left you as I did, and for that, I apologize. It's not like me to leave a lady wanting."
She stared at him. "And you think that's why I'm angry?"
"Isn't it?" he challenged. "Or is it because I reminded you of what we feel every time we're near each other. That, at least, hasn't changed."
The truth of his words hit her hard, bringing a lump to her throat. What could she say to that? That she was angry because she wanted him back? He had no idea what they'd shared, or how hard-won it was for both of them. How much sweeter it had been because of the work they put in to get there. This Hook was all selfish gratification and vengeance, and he'd gotten both from her. What did he want now? Absolution?
"You can save the apology," she said stonily. "Just go."
He raised an eyebrow, giving her an arrogant smile. "It's my cabin."
"Fine. I'll go." She got up and started to move around him. His jaw tightened and he reached a hand out to grab her arm, only to find the point of a dagger pointed perilously close to his stomach. He lowered his hand, backing up slowly. She gave him a smug eyebrow raise of her own.
"Look what I found," she said. "And I'll use it, too, if you ever try to touch me like that again."
"You liked my touch well enough. You're just angry that I left it where I did," he said, crossing his arms and gloating. It made her want to hit him across the face, and somehow, she knew that's why he did it.
"So I can expect you to try again?" she said. "Is that what you're resorting to now? Rape?"
He stepped forward, clearly angered by her use of the word. "It wouldn't have been rape and you know it," he bit out. "You wanted me. You still want me, but you're too angry to feel it right now."
"It's not you I want," she snapped back.
The silence hung heavy between them as she kept herself from finishing the sentence. Hook felt it, anyway. I want the other you. The hero. The one who did the right thing and came back for me.
Well, he wasn't that man, and she'd bloody well better get used to it.
"You're safe enough, Swan," he reassured her in a scathing tone. "I've never forced myself on an unwilling woman and I'll thank you not to lay that sin at my feet. I could have taken our dalliance all the way to its natural conclusion easily enough, and if that galls you, then I won't add further injury by proving it to you again."
He turned to head back up to the deck.
"Wait -" she said. "Where are we going?"
He paused with one foot up on the ladder. "To a port town known as Ticaret. It's where I left my crew, who by now have had their fill of women and grog and they're ready for another voyage."
"And what happens to me when we get there?"
He considered that a moment. "Well, I suppose we part company. Wouldn't want you to have to put up with my attentions for a moment longer than necessary, now would we?" He added sarcastically before he hoisted himself up to the deck.
Bloody ridiculous woman. Rape, indeed. She was practically panting for it.
But when had he ever had to pin a girl down like that before? Women had always pursued him or given over easily when it came to that sort of thing. Something about Swan just rubbed him raw and made him feel like he always had something to prove to her. He'd made the mistake of trusting her once before and got manacled and stranded because of it. She'd damn near gotten him killed by Cora for it, too. And even with all that, he still couldn't push aside the part of him that wanted to be what she was looking for, no matter what the cost.
It's not you I want, she'd said, and for a moment - just a brief flicker of a moment - he'd seen something in her eyes that tugged at him. He took a deep breath, deliberately refusing to stay on that thought. Then he walked over and took the wheel, hoping the pitch and roll of the sea would give him the peace he needed, if only for a little while.
###
She'd been up on deck for a few hours now, sitting on a large chest near the bow with her back to him. He wasn't fool enough to think she was over her fury, but she didn't look angry anymore. On the contrary, she looked...resigned, sitting with her chin resting on her knees. She'd finally eaten an apple an hour or so ago, so at least he knew she wasn't trying to starve herself out of spite.
He needed to get more information from her, but more than that, he wanted her to talk. He wanted to stop feeling so damned bad about her all over again. He finally decided that he'd had enough, tying the wheel off and walking over to her. She lifted her head and looked up at him steadily, registering that he was there but not giving him much more than that in the way of a greeting. She turned her eyes back out toward the sea.
He sat down on the other end of the chest, and they both watched the waves for a few minutes. When he couldn't bear the silence any longer, he rubbed his ear uncomfortably and decided to try some conversation.
"You said we'd shared an adventure," he reminded her. "What sort of an adventure?"
She was quiet so long, he almost got up, sure that she was bent on ignoring him. She finally answered him in a quiet voice.
"We were sent back in time. It was another curse, leveled by a witch named Zelena. You and I got thrown back to the day that my parents met."
"Why that day?"
"I'm not sure," she shrugged. "But we ended up doing something that altered the timeline. We had to find a way to fix it, and together, we did it."
"And I was my usual dashing self, I take it." He gave her a wide grin, and despite her faraway thoughts, he saw the corner of her mouth lift.
"You were a handy guy to have around," she agreed.
"Is that supposed to be funny?" he arched a brow.
"No." She set her chin back down on her knees, hugging them tighter into her chest. "None of this is funny."
He didn't know what to say to that, so he said nothing, and the silence stretched between them again.
"Swan, I..." he bit his lip, unsure of the best way to say what he needed to say. He finally settled for simplicity. "I'm sorry. I really am. I shouldn't have touched you that way. It was...disrespectful. And despite our differences and arguments, I've always felt that you'd earned my respect."
She turned to look at him, but didn't say anything in answer. She didn't look angry, either. Instead, she was looking at him as though she were trying to see inside him, and it made him even more aware of just how she made him feel. He'd thought that with the passage of time he'd gotten over his infatuation with her, but here it was, back again in full force, or perhaps even stronger.
"This is where you repay the compliment," he added, with a forced smile. Say something, Swan. Dammit.
"You haven't earned my respect yet," she answered quietly.
His eyes hardened and he shifted his gaze out to sea again. "Fair enough." Well, what did you expect, you bloody rotter? You've imprisoned the woman, crossed swords with her, left her for dead and accosted her against a table. She's right about you.
But she'd said yet. That one word hung in the air. Yet. He hadn't earned her respect yet. She could have ended the sentence easily before that word, but she didn't. Instead, she let that word hang there like a promise. Like a hope. Like she thought he had it in him. And something told him she believed it, even if it was only based on her delusional memories of the man he might have been.
"You can have the cabin," he said softly. "I won't bother you. The hatch locks from the inside, too. You'll find the latch behind the ladder."
"Thanks." She stretched her legs out, and his eyes followed the lean, long line of them. Then she got to her feet and turned to go.
"Swan?'
She looked back over her shoulder at him, but didn't answer.
"What did I do? That was handy, I mean?"
Her eyes were luminous in the moonlight, and she answered him with a sad sort of half-smile.
"You taught me to dance."