A/N: Sorry it took so long to update! Life happens and the words just didn't want to come. So this is a nice long chapter for all your patience. Wrapping it up soon.
Chapter Six
Furneaux tumbled down, rolling along the floor until he came to a stop in a heap. Hook followed closely behind, chasing the battered quartermaster below deck. He leaned over the cringing man.
"Get up," Hook said, grabbing him by the lapels of his overly-ostentatious and now rather rumpled coat.
Hook pulled him to his feet and pushed him toward the cell that had acted as Emma's temporary quarters.
"Sir," Furneaux sprayed. "If you just listen..."
Hook walked him backwards to the cell and shoved him roughly into the small room. He slammed the door, affixed the lock and began to walk away.
"You're making a big mistake," Furneaux slurred between his ruined teeth as he gripped the bars between Hook and himself. The penitent front he was putting forth was gone, replaced instead by a fierce anger. "You're just angry I played with your toy."
Hook turned to face him. "She's no toy, and no one will be playing with her."
"I'll finish the job," Furneaux growled, motioning at his hook. "You'll be missing more than a hand this time."
Hook took a step toward the cell door and glared at the crewman's battered face for a moment. He raised the hook at the end of his arm up and turned it over, looking at it closely. More a gray metal than a brightly-polished showpiece, it caught what little light was thrown from the nearby lanterns and shone dully. The pain of being maimed played across his face for a moment, before he looked at the man in the cell and his face slowly cracked into wide, humorless smile.
"Do you think I'm bluffing?" Furneaux asked, blood running down his chin.
He laughed.
"Looks like the lass did quite the job on your face."
Hook turned his back on the cell and began to walk away.
"You will regret this," the quartermaster's voice was becoming shrill with rage.
Hook could still hear the shouts and the threats coming from below as he walked across the deck to the open door of his quarters. He whispered an order to the crewman he had posted outside the door minutes earlier, stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He rubbed his hand down his scruffy face and glanced around his cabin. The table had been cleared and Emma was leaning back in a chair facing him.
"Well, this changes things." Hook said.
Emma laughed. "I suppose it does. There's someone in my sleeping quarters."
"You'll stay here for now," he said.
Emma raised an eyebrow.
"You know, if you wanted me in your bed, you didn't have to go to such lengths."
Hook smiled slightly, mulling over the predicament he'd now put himself in. He certainly wasn't going to take advantage of Emma after she'd just weathered unwanted advances from his quartermaster. But he also had to admit to himself that he enjoyed the company of this spirited woman. Too much rum had lowered his guard. He should have known better than to leave her with Furneaux.
"I'm sorry about that, I never should have left him in here alone with you. You're just too charming to resist." he quipped.
Emma shook her head, waving off any explanation as he got down on one knee next to her, brushing her blonde hair aside with his hook and looking more closely at the red marks just below her ear.
"I've been in a few scrapes," she said. "I had him right where I wanted him."
He gently brushed the outside of his hand along her neck.
"Why don't you get some rest," he said. "Maybe we can both sleep this off before we figure out what's coming next."
She glanced at him, waiting for the innuendo that would no doubt finish the thought, but he didn't offer it up. She raised an eyebrow in surprise at him, then glanced over at the leather bag housing Belle's heart.
Its presence was looming quite large between them.
Hook pulled the blankets on his bed up and straightened a couple pillows.
"It's a bit unkempt, but it's yours for the night," he said.
Emma stood, made her way past him and sat on the edge of the bed.
"I have to admit, I could use a little sleep," she said, rubbing her neck with the palm of one hand. "It's been a strange day."
She ran her hand over the bed, looking anywhere but at the man standing in front of her. She caught herself thinking that it was an awfully big bed. Hook gazed at the floor uncomfortably.
"There's plenty of room," she said.
Emma rolled back onto the bed and moved to the far side. She patted the open space with her hand. Hook circled the room, dousing the lanterns so the light from the moon was the only illumination. He made his way to the bed and sat.
"I appreciate the invitation," he said. "I just don't know if tonight is the best night to... To get to know you better. After everything that's happened."
Emma shook her head.
"Don't be stupid, this is your cabin and I'm not going to allow your odd sense of manners to put you out of your own bed." she said, pulling her boots off and kicking them onto the floor. "And don't feel guilty. We'll just sleep. No complications."
She rolled onto her back, pulled the borrowed pants off and threw them into a pile next to the boots. She kneeled, smoothing the white tunic that hung from her shoulders long enough to function as a nightshirt. She pulled the blanket back and slid underneath it, planting an elbow on the pillow and propping her head up with her hand.
"It's either the bed or the floor," she said.
Hook slipped off his shirt and tossed it onto a chair. He dropped onto the bed and swung his legs up so he sprawled facing the ceiling.
"You're leaving your boots on?" Emma said looking him over. "Aren't we the gentleman?"
Hook looked embarrassed. He was not used to feeling like an inexperienced boy.
"I'm just trying to show a little respect," he said defensively, yanking his boots off. He rolled onto his side to face away from her.
Emma couldn't help but smile at the suddenly bashful pirate's back. She put her head on the pillow and watched his shoulders rise and fall slightly as his breathing grew quieter.
"Not getting under the covers?" she wondered to herself.
"Chivalry," she whispered at the man next to her. "It's cute."
She closed her eyes, feeling weariness in every muscle.
"Pirates aren't cute." he huffed and tossed back the blanket to nestle down into his bed.
Only the moonlight filling the room illuminated his face – his eyes open and his features alert. Furneaux was locked up below, but there was no telling what lies he had planted into potential allies. Hook felt responsible for the earlier conflict. He would not make the same mistake twice.
Emma tossed for a few minutes, stared at the ceiling and turned her pillow over. She knew sleep would not claim her without at least a little resolution.
"What are we going to do with it?" she asked, knowing Hook was wide awake next to her.
He knew the question was coming at some point, he just hoped it be after a little sleep and when he had a little less rum in his system.
"Well, since I've got this newly-discovered sense of morality, I suppose smashing it is out of the question," he said over his shoulder.
"Revenge isn't necessarily going to put any money in our pockets," Emma said. "You're a pirate. Think like a pirate."
Hook rolled over onto his back and looked right at her.
"Our pockets?" he said.
"Look, I'm the one who kept it safe until you could lay your hands on it," Emma argued. "There should be some kind of finder's fee or something. I was going to get paid until you interrupted my plan."
Hook chuckled.
"Let me remind you that your plan – such as it was – had taken a turn for the worse," he said. "And if you think for a second that Gold would pay you and let you go on your merry way, then you are sadly mistaken."
He may have been arguing against including her in the end game, but Emma sensed a softening in his resolve.
"Here's the plan," she said. "We walk right in. Right through his front door. We demand payment and then we leave. No one crushes anything, no one dies, and we sail away a little lower in the water than when we arrived."
"And what if something goes wrong?" he asked.
"Well, that's where your muscle will come in handy," Emma said, touching the tip of his hook gingerly. "But until that point, let's go with my plan."
"Sure, it's pure genius," Hook said sarcastically. "What makes you think he'll go along with it?"
She sighed.
"Because you're appealing to his heart," she said. "Property, money, revenge – that's one thing. But when you control something he truly cares about, then you've got the upper hand."
Hook remained silent for a long minute.
"If I'm getting out of the revenge business, I might as well get paid," he said. "It is the simplest way out of all this. But I want him to feel it. I want it to hurt."
Emma smiled.
"No one said you had to say please and thank you."
Hook sat up and turned to face her.
"I'll cut you in," he said. "But you'll be earning it. You've got to do exactly what I tell you. This isn't someone you can toy with. He's dangerous."
She nodded.
"And if push comes to shove and we're not walking out of there, then you have to be ready to punish him," he said. "That means putting an end to Belle."
Emma nodded again. She wondered if he believed her. Hook lay down, covering his eyes with his forearm.
She curled her arm beneath her pillow and hunkered down into the sheets. It was a pleasantly soft bed and she found herself quickly drifting off to sleep.
Hook listened as her breathing evened out and she slipped off into a deeper slumber. What had he agreed to? He shouldn't feel this tense about facing Gold. He should be excited and thrilled to finally exact his revenge. Instead of taunting Gold, he kept picturing Emma in danger. It was uppermost in his mind. She seemed feisty enough to handle herself in any situation, but she didn't know how ruthless and dangerous this character could be.
He turned onto his side, restlessly trying to get comfortable. Swan's back faced him and he could make out her hair fanned out on the pillow. He could hardly resist the urge to reach out and twirl the end of her hair around his finger. It had been a long time since he'd felt protective of someone. But he also sensed that she'd have his back tomorrow as well. Perhaps there were advantages to keeping Emma Swan around.
Surfacing from an odd dream, Emma pointed her toes and stretched her legs, brushing against a firm calf that didn't belong to her. It began to dawn on her that she was not on her uncomfortable cot, but sharing a bed with the captain. The weight of his arm draped across her midriff shook the cobwebs from her brain, which was aching with the after effects of copious amounts of alcohol consumed the prior evening. Cracking her eyes open slightly proved that it was still dark. As she contemplated how to extricate herself from the arm of her bedmate, he shifted slightly and drew her closer to him. She couldn't help but grin to herself. This was definitely a better sleeping arrangement than the cell.
She glanced sideways at him. His face was turned away from her. He was sprawled on his stomach with one arm curled beneath his pillow, and the other arm trapping her. If she turned away from him, she'd possibly be more comfortable, but he was hogging most of the bed and she'd be practically kissing the wall. Screw it, she thought to herself and flipped onto her side, grasping his forearm to keep it from wandering too high or too low. She drew her knees up and gently nudged his legs to try and reclaim some bed space. He grumbled in his sleep and turned on his side away from her, drawing his arm back underneath the covers and curling into his body.
She settled in to the comfortable mattress once more. Her mind drifted, trying to recall the last time she'd shared a bed with a man for the entire night. There were plenty who had come and gone, there just wasn't a lot of sleep involved. She saw their faces in her mind as she began to drift off, when her stomach let out a rather noticeable growl. The grumbling served as a reminder that the effects of a roaring hangover threatened to overwhelm her.
"Hungry love?" Killian tossed over his shoulder to her.
His voice sounded rough from sleep. He rolled onto his back, raising his hand to his forehead and quietly groaned. Seems the captain was also suffering from the after effects of rum.
"Yes" she grumbled. "If I can manage to keep anything down…"
Emma slowly attempted to sit up, throbbing temples keeping her moving as gingerly as possible. She raised her knees and rested her forehead on them, inhaling slowly as she tried to shake the feeling that her skull was splitting.
Killian slowly sat up and rested against the headboard of his bed. He stretched his hand out and swept her tousled hair back from her neck. He grazed his thumb softly over the mottled bruising that was beginning to show where Furneaux's hand had attempted to throttle her. He dropped his hand when she winced.
"Give me your hand."
Emma slid back to the headboard and gave him a sidelong glance.
"Trust me" he said, gesturing with his own hand.
She placed her hand in his. He braced her hand on his forearm and turned her palm up. He began at the fleshy part and slowly kneaded his way to the end of her thumb.
"What are you doing?" she asked suspiciously.
He continued to knead her thumb, raising his eyes to look at her face and giving her a wink. "How's your head feel now?"
Emma paused for a moment, eyes widening in surprise. "Better!"
He continued to massage her hand, thumb stroking back and forth on her palm. "Much as I would love to remain in bed nursing our hangovers, we do have an exchange to make with Gold." He raised her hand and lightly brushed his lips across her knuckles. "I'll find something agreeable for breakfast."
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and paused a moment, stretching his neck from one side to the other, dragging his hand through his hair before painfully rising and fumbling for a clean shirt.
Emma tried not to marvel at the play of his back muscles as he stretched, but it was hard not to be distracted by him. At least it took her mind off her headache she grinned to herself.
He slipped out of the cabin, giving Emma time to clean up and dress herself. Her neck was sore, but she imagined that Furneaux was probably in worse shape.
The captain returned not long after she'd finished pulling on her boots and attempting to tame her hair in a loose braid. He placed a tray with various sliced fruits, toasted bread and several slices of bacon.
Emma slid into a chair and reached for a slice of toast, topping it with a few slices of bacon. They ate in companionable silence. Killian poured a generous amount of water into their tumblers, shrugging when Emma glanced at the rum flask left untouched.
"Gotta be sharp for Gold" he explained.
"So what exactly is the plan?" she asked.
He laid it out to her as they finished up eating and prepared to make the trip into the town.
Their small boat cut through the early morning fog and pulled up alongside the pier. The tender carried only three people: a rough-looking salt pulling at the oars, Hook – who whispered instructions to the bulky man, and Emma with the leather satchel slung over her shoulder. The oarsman tied the small boat up as the pair climbed out and quickly made their way down the pier toward the town.
A line of trees created a natural barrier between the waterfront and the village proper. Hook and Emma walked past the tall, ancient growth without speaking. He had given her specific instructions: stick close to him, avoid talking to anyone and keep the satchel safe. The town itself presented no inherent danger. It was the man they were going to see that put the pirate on edge. Despite his modest stature, Mr. Gold was a formidable opponent. Quick to anger and unpredictable, he was equally adept at using a blade as he was the more arcane weapons in his arsenal. Gold had abilities beyond explanation, and Hook wasn't in a hurry for a demonstration. Given that the erratic man was no doubt furious with him for putting Belle in such a perilous position, there was no telling how things would go. Killian gnawed on his lower lip going through scenarios of escape if things went south.
Despite the early hour, the village center was alive with people coming and going. Hook led Emma to the front of a neatly-kept shop bookended by a baker on one side and a butcher on the other. Large shanks of meat hung in the window and the scent of freshly baked bread wafted through the damp air. Emma breathed in the smell of bread and had to restrain herself from making a detour to sample the crusty rolls out on display. Hook noticed the diversion and gently steered her past the bakery. The shop in the center had no sign and looked to be closed. Maroon drapery with gold fringe lined the large window in the front. Emma shielded the morning light with her hands as she pressed her face against the glass to get a look inside. A jumble of desks, lamps, statues, weapons, paintings and large, leather-bound books were scattered throughout. There didn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to the manner the merchandise was displayed.
"Looks like a scrap pile," Emma said.
Hook squinted as he peered into the shop window.
"Every piece holds value to someone," he said. "And Gold knows how to squeeze every last drop of blood from his customers."
The pirate took a step back and froze as he spotted the reflection of a man standing behind him in the window.
"We're not open," the man said in a thin voice.
Emma swung around and saw a man whose long, once-brown hair was now flecked with gray. He wore a long coat and held his hands behind his back. His face betrayed no expression. His eyes locked on Hook, the man seemed tense as a coiled snake about to strike.
Without turning, Hook addressed the man's reflection.
"I think you'll be interested in our wares," he said.
Emma realized she was looking at Mr. Gold.
Gold's gaze turned to Emma and came to rest on the satchel over her shoulder. Despite his unmoving exterior, she could feel the rage emanating from him.
"Why don't we go inside then?" he said to the pair in an expressionless voice.
Gold dug into a deep pocket and pulled out a ring with several long keys. He fit one into the lock on the outside of the door and swung it open. He waved an arm into the shop.
"You first," Hook said.
Gold sneered and stepped inside. Hook raised his eyebrows, giving Emma a look as if to signal that the negotiations had begun. As the three entered the shop, the door behind them closed. It was dark, but now that she was in the middle of the mad collection, she could see gilded edges and gold accents on nearly every piece. And for the first time she noticed that Hook had a long blade sheathed in the small of his back.
"You know what I have," he said. "I know what it means to you."
Gold's face grew darker.
"Are you here to take your revenge?" Gold asked. "If so, then why are we playing games?"
He spoke to Hook, but his eyes never left Emma's side.
"We're here to strike a deal," Hook said. "Against my better judgement."
Gold's head spun and he met the pirate's gaze.
"If it was up to me, her heart would be dust on your doorstep by now," Hook taunted. "But I was also convinced that this might be an opportunity to bring things to a close and to fill my pockets. Everyone goes home happy. Or – I go home happy, anyway."
He watched Gold closely and his face turned serious.
"You took Milah from me," Hook said.
For the first time, Gold was prodded to react.
"You took her from me first," he snapped.
Hook cast a guilty look toward Emma.
"I may have left a few details out of the story," he said sheepishly before turning back to Gold.
"I'll start again. You took Milah. I was obligated to take Belle – and I did."
He paused.
"But you can have her heart back," Hook said. "For a price."
Gold folded his arms in front of him and raised an eyebrow almost imperceptibly.
"Keep talking," he said.
Hook took a large, hide bag from his side and tossed it to the man standing across from him.
"Fill it," he said.
Gold hefted the bag, considering what the deal was going to cost him.
"How do I know you even have it?" he said.
Hook nodded at Emma. She took the bag from around her shoulders and used the skeleton key to unfasten the heavy lock. It clicked loudly. Gold watched closely as Emma reached her hand inside, grasped the contents and pulled it free. The red, pulsing heart glowed in her hands. It seemed somehow more brilliant than it did aboard the Jolly Roger. It blazed a bit more brightly and beat just a little more quickly. Emma's eyes grew wide as her eyes locked onto it. The crimson glimmer lit her face up in the dimly lit shop. Gold reached gingerly toward it.
"Fill the bag first," Hook said. "Or it all goes to dust."
The slim man didn't look imposing, but his thin build was wrapped in rope-like muscle – something Hook kept in mind as he closely watched Gold begin to move. He never broke eye-contact with the pirate captain, and he moved as if he was perpetually coiled and ready to strike.
"Make a move," Hook taunted. "You'll own a small pile of dust before you take a step."
Emma had absolutely no intention of crushing the heart she was now holding in her hands. But if Gold knew that, things would likely go downhill very quickly. If the heart were destroyed, Gold would have nothing to lose. The way she saw it, things were pretty cut-and-dry: Belle's heart is returned, she and Hook pick up a decent amount of cash for their troubles, and everyone gets to walk away – end of story. The cycle of revenge could end right in the shadows of Gold's shop.
She snapped back into character and glared at Gold, trying to give the impression she was a cold-blooded killer capable of pulverizing an innocent woman's heart. She wasn't sure she was succeeding.
"Careful with that, dearie," Gold said. "One scratch and I'll be ripping yours out of your chest."
Emma thought she may have winced at the threat. The longer the stalemate went on, the more she was convinced she might not be cut out for such high stakes jousting. She looked to Hook for reassurance. His eyes were locked on the wiry man in front of him.
Gold backed slowly behind the counter with the bag, ducked down behind it and unlocked a drawer. Losing sight of the man, Hook unsheathed a saber from his side scabbard. Gold peered up over the edge of the counter.
"A little tense, aren't we?"
Gold bent down out of sight again, grunted and heaved a medium sized trunk up onto the counter. It was strapped with gold fittings and held together with large iron rivets that had been hammered into place with great care. He looked down and fiddled with a lock on the front of the trunk before finding the right key and flipping it open.
Hook took a step forward to look over the edge. Ten solid gold bars sat inside, stacked neatly in rows.
"Been weaving a little on the side?" Hook asked with a smirk.
Gold ignored him. Instead, he reached into the trunk and removed each brick, one at at time, placing it into the hide bag. He emptied the trunk, closed the lid and elbowed it aside. He sidestepped the counter, swung the bag and let it fly. It hit the floor with a loud "whump" and came to rest at Hook's feet.
"That'll do," Hook said quietly, looking down at the bag. He nodded at Emma.
She opened the leather satchel and very gently placed the glowing heart inside. She snapped the top shut and the radiating glow was immediately doused. She placed it on the table in front of her.
Hook slung the bag of gold over his shoulder and jerked his head toward the door. The two made their way to the front of the shop slowly, keeping an eye on the grimacing man tracing their retreat. Emma reached behind her and opened the door into the street. She backed out as Hook followed. As the door swung shut, Gold growled at them one last time.
"You could've had ten times as much."
Hook turned and started walking quickly back toward the dock. Emma had to run every few steps to keep up.
"Did you hear him?" she said incredulously.
"I'm not worried about that," Hook said, glancing behind him as he picked up even more speed. The oarsman had the small boat prepared and as the two jumped in. He sat heavily and began pulling at the long, wooden oars, moving them away from the dock and back toward the Jolly Roger.
The sea birds had awakened and circled just overhead. Hook looked up at them, smiling.
"What are you grinning about?" Emma said. "The plan was to get enough money out of him to make him feel regret, but you accepted – what – that?" She motioned at the bag with an open palm.
"I told you," Hook said. "I'm not worried about it."
"Why," Emma asked, exasperated.
"Because," he said, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out the large key ring. "I knicked his keys…" He jingled them on his hook, and then reached for Emma's neck, tugging free the necklace snugged under her white shirt. "And we've still got the skeleton key. I couldn't just give him the satisfaction of a simple transaction now could I?"
Reviews feed my soul! Next chapter will be the last...(I think)
