I'm flabbergasted by the feedback I've been getting - especially for the last chapter of this fic. Thank you so much to all of you who took the time to let me know what you think, you'll never know just how much it is appreciated.

Everything was black.

But it was also cold - so cold…

There was something pressing against her - seemingly from every direction. It was solid and heavy; try as she may, she couldn't take a single breath.

And she was falling - fast or slow, she wasn't sure, but as the seconds ticked by she was tumbling further towards-

Towards where?

A fog had crept into her consciousness. Where was she? What was happening?

Those thoughts wouldn't come.

All she could think was, why was it so cold?


His head was pounding as he raced up the ladder that led straight to the deck, hot on the heels of-

Of - who?

As much as the alcohol had made his thoughts muddled and vision fogged when he woke, he was certain of what he had seen.

Jack, he had… was sure of it. Concealed somewhat, yes, but beneath the half open shirt he had seen the unmistakable hint of fleshy curves as the boy had roused himself from where he lay on the floor of the cabin.

Boy.

Or girl…?

The only answer would be found in following.

Reaching the top of the stairs, he paused for a second - breathing heavily - as he surveyed the deck. There was a flash of white near the bow. There.

Narrowing his eyes, he ran quickly.

Jack was looking back at him, face etched in panic. Then his hands were on the gunwale; his feet scrambling to join them.

And in a flash, he was gone.

"Bloody hell,"muttered Killian as he reached the spot where Jack had jumped overboard.

Frowning, he searched the seething blue-grey mass of water below. The ocean was accented by frothy pools of white sea foam which swirled and bobbed in the unsettled expanse, disguising any entry point he would have made.

He craned his neck, leaning over and looking down.

Nothing, nothing, until-

A pale pink flash of skin, an arm?

"Jack!"he shouted. But just as quickly as it appeared the arm sank beneath the surface.

Killian hissed as he went to grab a length of rope that was coiled near the mast. He quickly looked around: no crew was yet on deck, save the young lad in the crow's nest who appeared fast asleep.

Tugging the rope, he coiled it around his waist and tied it with a firm knot.

This was a foolish, crazy idea-

These thoughts were quickly swallowed as he dived into the ocean, aiming for the place where the arm had vanished into the murky waters. Instantly, icy pinpricks attacked his skin and this breath caught in his throat - the force of his fall had pushed him below the surface and his legs kicked frantically to push his body higher to take a precious gasp of air.

Lungs fully expanded, he let his body sink lower, prying his eyes open as the water surrounded him once more. The salt stung his eyes and he felt fit to burst as he frantically searched for a sign of the boy. Bubbles swirled around, obscuring his vision; he needed to breathe.

Another flash of pink to his right, a flicker of a white shirt, just within arm's reach…

A second later, his fingers were grasping a limp arm, tugging it towards him, his hook arm wrapping around Jack's waist as he started beat his legs against the heaviness of the ocean - their muscles burning and crying out for respite as he broke through the surface with a wheezing gasp.

Killian wiped the salty water from his eyes and then stared up at the hull of the Jolly - the rope that was anchoring him to it rippling in the breeze. He began to wonder how he would pull them both up; him with one hand and carrying a dead weight, when he suddenly saw the smiling face of the ship's sail maker, Dicken, leaning over the gunwale.

"Cap'n, grab a hold, I'll get yeh up!"

Dicken disappeared for a second; Killian tightened his grip on both Jack and the rope, steeling himself for the inevitable tug as they were hauled up.

It took less than a minute before the two were falling onto the deck of the ship. Killian first, tumbling in a damp mess with Jack following his path onto his chest before rolling to one side.

Quick footsteps announced the older man's approach, "Cap'n…"

Jack suddenly began to cough, bringing up a mouthful of water before lapsing once more into unconsciousness.

"Help me,"ordered Killian, taking hold of Jack's arms as Dicken took hold of the boy's legs. Killian nodded towards the hatch to his cabin and the two stumbled towards it, not stopping to pass a glance or a word.

Inside the small room, the limp body was lifted onto the narrow bed.

With a creased brow, Killian looked over the silent body. Pale skin, drenched hair and clothing.

He could see it now- how could he have not noticed before? The high cheekbones and the soft, full lips, round eyes lined by long, dark lashes.

A woman.

Suddenly aware that he was not alone, he spun around and faced Dicken.

"Dicken-"

"Tis no worry sir, I can 'old me tongue."

Killian nodded silently, moistening his lips and looking back at fragile figure whose skin was turning an unearthly pale shade as he watched.

There was a sweat on her brow and her lips were beginning to mumble incoherent words.

"Tis the salt captain, she must 'ave swallowed quite the lot."

"Indeed,"nodded Killian as he reached out to wipe a rolling bead of seawater from her cheek, "Dicken, fetch rags, some ale and a bucket of fresh water from my stock."

Dicken nodded and turned to leave when Killian caught his shoulder and pulled him back, staring him deep in the eye, "Not a word, sailor, I will deal with this on my own terms."

"Aye sir,"the old man agreed before hurrying from the cabin.

Killian looked back at the stranger sprawled out on his bed. She was shivering violently - the dampness of her clothing was chilling her. He knew she would become even sicker if he didn't act quickly.

Tugging off her boots, he wrestled with the saturated heavy cotton of her pants and peeled away her linen shirt until she was left just in long underwear and the bandage around her chest that he had glimpsed earlier that morning. Her frame was so small and delicate, he wondered how he had ever been fooled.

She began to toss and turn her head from side to side. Killian reached into his dresser and pulled out a thick woolen blanket and covered her body, tucking it underneath her so she was cocooned in its embrace.

And then he waited.


Light and dark shapes flickered across her eyelids.

Alternating between burning and shivering, she felt sweat soak her skin, sticking her body to the sheets she lay on. The salty tang of seawater lingered on her lips and clung to the back of her throat. Hot and cold flashes ran across her skin, her head felt heavy and painful - as if her skull was cracking from the inside.

Then, in a moment, everything faded away.

She was astride Honey, back home in the Enchanted Forest. The sun was warm against her skin, the smell of the morning dew clung to her nostrils as she galloped between the ancient, towering trees.

Her long skirts brushed against bare legs as her hair tumbled down her back. It was familiar and delicious and comforting. How she had missed this-

But then it was gone. Everything turned black.

She was alone. Scared.

Dark shadows were chasing her. They knew who she was. They snapped at her heels and entangled their snaking fingers in her hair - pulling her back and further into their emptiness-

Crying out, her eyes flew open.

"Wha- what…"she panted, her fingers balling in the sheets below her as her feet kicked at their heavy woolen prison.

"Shhhhh."

"Where am I,"she mumbled, her eyelids flickering closed again as she threatened to slip into unconsciousness once more.

"You are safe, on board the ship,"came the quiet reply.

Ship? On board?

A wave of memories crashed against her soul, the past few months flashing by in seconds.

"Water," she croaked. Her throat was dry and scratching - as if she had swallowed something sharp and it was lodged in place.

A warm hand enveloped her own, pressing into it a heavy, metallic tankard and supporting it as she brought it to her lips and sank back the lukewarm water as if it were the finest nectar a body had ever consumed.

It trickled into her belly - sating the dry ache a little while the moisture took away the salty taste on her tongue. Her head rolled back onto the thin pillow where it lay. "What-what happened," she managed to ask between shaking breaths. Her heart was racing and she felt slightly faint as she tried to sit up.

"Lie down, you are still quite ill."

A firm palm pressed gently against her shoulder and she gave up her resistance, sinking back down to lie. The tankard was placed back in her hand and a cool rag placed on her forehead. "You nearly drowned."

Drowned?

And then she remembered jumping overboard. Running from the cabin. And why she had ran.

He knew.

"Please…Please…" She opened her eyes again and her vision was blurry for a few seconds until the captain's face came into focus. Using her feet, she tried to push herself further away from him, but her weak legs were useless. "Don't hurt me," she whispered, her voice trembling.

She could see him clearly now. He was sat by the bed on the chair that usually was beside his desk. The cabin was dark - was it night already? A lantern was hung from the ceiling and it swung gently with the motions of the ship, its light dancing over his skin and stretching strange shadows as he looked down at her. Her stomach clenched: his face was blank. Was he mad? What would he do? Panic clawed at her from inside, like a wild animal trying to escape, and she froze, eyes wide.

"Hurt you?"

He smiled. It was a peculiar smile, not warm or caring, not menacing - confused perhaps?

"For my lies, sir," she explained, dampening her lips with her tongue - she could still taste the salt and it turned her stomach. She began to shake a little.

"Yes, you have some explaining to do-?" He raised a quizzical brow as a wave of exhaustion passed over her.

"Emma," she sighed, "My name is Emma."

"Well, Jack would have been a rather peculiar name for a woman."

Cool dread began to seep through her aching body - now he knew. Her ruse had been discovered and she was adrift in the middle of an ocean with one of the most feared pirates that had ever sailed.

"Well, Emma, I have not quite decided what will happen with you yet. You have provided me with quite the conundrum."

"I beg your forgiveness captain," she whispered, tears stinging her eyes.

So this was it. She had been discovered and now her fate seemed set.

"I think apologies are a little late now, love."

He leaned closer, his hooked arm resting on the bed as he nodded towards the cup in her hand, "Drink up, you swallowed a lot of seawater."

Silently she took a sip, keeping her eyes on him as she gratefully swallowed more of the delicious water.

"Now, I think you need to explain to me why you have been galavanting around my ship for the past month disguised as a boy, when," his eyes dropped to the shape of her body outlined by the blanket, "You are clearly not."

His gaze made her feel hot. She felt her cheeks redden.

"I was running away-" she sucked back a deep breath, "I had to escape from my home."

"Family problems?"

"Something like that. I knew the sea was the best way to cover a large distance and quickly."

"And the disguise?"

Feeling stronger, she shuffled a little higher in the bed, relaxing just a little. Resting her head against the small wooden headboard, she looked they captain straight in the eye, attempting to project a countenance of confidence and bravery.

"Um…"

She hesitated. He couldn't know of her true identity. She may just escape with her life as things currently stood, but if he knew she was royalty she was certain that he would want to take advantage.

"A woman travelling alone is suspicious, captain."

He nodded, seemingly accepting her words.

"Fair enough."

He stood silently.

"Captain - please, tell me what you are going to do with me? I deserve to know that."

"Sleep," he ordered, taking the tankard from her weak grasp, "I need to think."

The unsettled sensation in her stomach flared once more. She was thankful when exhaustion overwhelmed her once more and the room once again turned black.


A woman.

She had led him on a merry dance these past few weeks, hiding her identity-

No, he thought, not quite.

Killian looked out across the empty, lonely water, lit only by the gleaming light of the full moon that seemed extraordinarily large in the sky tonight.

If he was honest with himself, he had known something was strange about him… her.

When he had first seen her bravery, offering her life for that of the young boys, he had been drawn to - her.

Her.

That day he had spent many hours by the bed, waiting for her to wake. His initial shock at the discovery had been first replaced by anger.

No one makes a fool of Captain Jones. He had shaken her body, as it lay there lifelessly - refusing to wake herself, demanding answers.

He told those who asked that Jack was sick when he had returned to the deck to give orders for the day, having changed his own salt-ridden clothing with a fresh set. He did not want his men to be privy to her ruse and his own deception.

When he had returned to the cabin, his anger had abated slightly. The small, sickly figure of the girl seemed lost in his bunk. She was tossing and turning, mumbling of forests and shadows and, every so often, she called for her mother.

With a damp rag, he had wiped the sweat from her face, using it to trace the curves of her high cheekbones - so clearly feminine he felt foolish for allowing himself to believe otherwise. Her short, golden hair, fanned out on the pillow, just scraping her delicate shoulders.

In another time - another place - he would have said she was quite beautiful. But the sallow skin of sickness had taken away any pretty sheen of youth. Instead of allowing himself to admire her, he felt an involuntary wave of pity for this young woman.

And now she had awoken, had spoken to him in her true, soft, voice, his compassion for her tale had increased.

She was a little like he, in a way, running, searching for something. She, an escape from an unwanted life, him vengeance for a taken one.

Sipping on his flask of rum, he resolved to conceal her from the crew; as much to protect her as to protect his reputation. He would make sure Dicken was well compensated from their next haul too to ensure his silence. Things would continue as much they had until they reached a suitable port and he would send this Emma on her way.

Yes, allowing her safe passage was the right thing to do. The only thing to do.


Emma was awake and upright when he returned, sipping on the ale he had left by her.

"Captain-" she gasped quietly; he saw her start a little and draw her legs up to her chest.

"Be calm, lass, I am not here to harm you."

Her shoulders sagged a little and he dragged the chair back to the bed before offering her some of the salted meat he had brought for their supper.

"Are you feeling well?" he asked.

"A little," she whispered, pulling the blanket tighter around her when it slipped to reveal a few inches of bare shoulder. It suddenly occurred to him that perhaps she was feeling a little exposed.

"Would you like some dry garments?"

The lass nodded and Killian slipped to her cabin, coming back with a shirt and breeches.

He handed them to her, then stood by the bed.

"Could you-?" Her eyes flickered over her body and he cleared his throat in understanding, turning his back to her and stepping to his desk.

An awkward silence settled. Clothing and blankets rustled as she changed.

Killian glanced at the small mirror on his desk, just in time to see a flash of beautiful, soft skin of her back as she slid off her still damp long johns and pulled on the breeches.

His heart caught in his throat a little.

God, she was a fine woman. A firm curve to her buttocks rising to a small, delicate waist. He had a sudden urge to touch her that he quickly squashed by biting on his tongue.

It had been a long time since he had enjoyed a woman so fine.

Shaking away those thoughts, he asked, "A question, lass, can't you swim?"

He heard her settle back on the bed and he tentatively turned around to see her sitting upright, more familiar now in those manly clothes. Though, now of course, there was no hiding the femininity her features held so well.

"Of course, captain. But it was cold, and I panicked…"

She gave him a weak smile and he raised his brows in amusement. "Diving off a ship in the middle of the ocean is not perhaps the most astute idea in any circumstance."

"I was scared," she admitted, playing nervously with the buttons of her shirt as Killian sat, "I've heard so many stories of the dreaded Captain Hook to make me acutely aware of what you are capable."

This honesty was refreshing.

"Stories are just that love, stories."

"But surely, some must be true. Everyone knows your crew are ruthless, taking what they want, whoever stands in their path vanquished easily. Indeed, the manner of my joining your crew served only to strengthen my belief in these tales."

"And where do you think these rumors originate, love?," he paused for a second as her brow crumpled, "Me, mostly of course."

"You?" she asked, puzzled, her head cocking slightly to he left.

"Fear is a powerful tool," he began, standing slowly and walking to the foot of the bed, "A reputation as bloodthirsty pirate is surprisingly effective in encouraging surrender. And it is far easier to take my quarry without resistance."

"So, it's all - it's all lies?"

"Mostly," he quipped, "But as you saw occasionally a captain is rather foolish and my men, well, they are pirates."

"Oh," she sighed. Her mind awhirl with thoughts- trying to decipher the lines between what was fact and what was fiction.

"Have I disappointed you? I assure you I can be ruthless when required."

Leaning over the bed, he gave her a menacing smile and felt a little dart of pleasure when she sucked in a quick breath before she turned away to look out of the small, cabin windows.

"So then, what is to become of me? Have you decided?" Her voice wavered sightly as she asked, fear rippling through each word.

Rounding the bed, Killian sank to sit on its edge, the mattress dipping slightly causing her to roll a little closer to him. He stared at her for a moment - taking in her pretty green eyes and defiant set chin. He couldn't deny she intrigued him.

"I am a man of honor, lass and also consider myself to be a reasonable captain. That said, you have lied to me. Luckily for you, that lie is not something I wish to become common knowledge with my crew. So I propose, you continue as before, perhaps with a little more caution when mixing with the crew, and once we reach a suitable port we will part ways and that will be the end of this."

"Really?" she asked, eyes wide.

"I have no reason to lie."

"And-and I'll be safe?"

The lass's eyelids flickered lower and her cheeks reddened. Amused, he understood her question quickly, and placed his arms on the bed so he was nearer to her face.

"As tempting a treat as you would be," he smirked, "I have more important issues to worry about as things stand. I think it would be best for the both of us if we execute this plan with the minimum of… distractions."

"Of course…"

"Now, are you well enough to return to your own quarters? It is late and you have occupied a great deal of my time today."

She nodded, and he moved to the side to let her slip from the bed, her legs shaking as her bare feet reached the floor until she was stood beside him. The tang of salt clung to her mixed with something sweetly feminine and he inhaled, sinking in her scent as she straightened her clothes.

"Goodnight captain. And - thank you."

Killian watched her feet walk away when he remembered the boots at the foot of his bed. Scooping them up with his hook, he took a few steps and grabbed her shoulder, spinning her round.

The force of his movement had her tumbling into his chest. She paused and looked up at him. His mouth went dry for a second as he forgot what he was doing.

There was an undeniable force tugging between them - a tension that had came from nowhere and disappeared just as suddenly as he pushed the boots into her hand and she mumbled her thank you.

When the door closed, he slumped to his bed. It smelled like her, he noticed absentmindedly.

Loosening his clothing, he felt his own tiredness overwhelm him and sleep arrive.

Sleep punctuated by dreams of green eyes and golden hair.

As ever reviews are welcomed, encouraged and appreciated.