A/N: You guessed time lapse? And I'm giving you one. :)

I'm forgoing the use of dramatic irony for the rest of the fic. I know at some points in the first part, we knew a lot more backstory than the characters did. The way the rest of the fic is going to play out, is like that last Captain Swan scene in the finale, where it's Killian explaining what happened. So, we'll get the history of the last few years through conversation and thought. :)

Some pretty dub-con stuff ahead in this chapter, but it was the chapter that inspired the entire fic. Well, I should say, a certain scene in our lovely finale inspired this entire fic...

Also, it's double the length of a normal chappie. And I really wanted to upload it tonight. So, if I manage to write the next chapter by Tuesday, we'll get it. But otherwise, on Friday it is.

Enjoy! xx

Chapter Nine: I know my way is rough and steep

Four Years Later

Emma was regretting her decision to not dress in her usual manner. The wind was freezing and she was clutching a shawl around her shoulders. It was late, nearing midnight, but she knew that the man she was looking for would be holed up in the Windfall Inn, most likely working his way through men's gold and in between women's legs.

Captain Hook was a menace to the world, but so far, Emma Swan had managed to stay clear of him. It was good. Pirates that met out on the open sea were stubborn. And from what she'd heard, this man was lethal. And despite her confidence that four years ago she was the most fearsome pirate to roam the seas, the rumoured handsome man with a hook had her worried.

But he also had something she needed.

She'd heard whispers on the black market that he was the only person alive to know how to cross worlds, and it was well known that he lived with a vendetta against the man who cut off his hand.

The very man, or thing, who Emma simply hadn't been able to find over the last four years. And to be honest, she was growing more than a little desperate. Which was why she was out in the dead of night leaving Graham and the rest of her crew sound asleep on the Wandering Lady. He wouldn't approve.

But she was the Captain.

Although, at the moment, she was looking more akin to some tawdry tavern girl who couldn't help but show off more cleavage that was strictly necessary.

She flicked her hood off her golden hair as she entered the warmth of the tavern. The glow of a roaring fireplace cast yellow light onto the stone walls and the patrons of the Windfall Inn. Amongst the groups of rowdy men, it took her a few moments to spot who she was looking for. But eventually, the glint of light off a silver hook gave her the position of the Captain sitting near the fire. He was at a table with a few women at either side rolling some dice from his hand. She couldn't properly see his face, turned away from her and holding a mug up to his lips. But she bit her lip and rendered herself confident. Swallowing her pride, she tucked her hair behind her ears and walked forward. But just as she'd put her hands down on the table and began to introduce herself with a flirty comment, her eyes widened in fear and shock and instead all that came out was a squeaky:

"Killian?"

Hook was pleasantly buzzed. He had women pressed against him on either side and he was enjoying their warm companionship. He'd enjoy them even more later.

But right now, that wasn't the most pressing matter. He was scanning the room. Waiting for the bloody bastard Blackbeard to appear with his information on the Dark One's dagger. In the meantime, he was rolling dice with his men, gambling away his well plundered gold, but earning just as much in return. He'd tried to remain as sober as possible with the rounds of drinks going around the table, but it was proving difficult to keep a clear head as the night grew later. Now, he was quite enamoured with the lovely brunette at his side as she stroked his thigh leisurely through his leather pants. Danielle…Dana…

Well, it didn't quite matter. She'd be the one screaming, not him.

He was just about to retire from his games and give up the wait for Blackbeard when a shadow blocked his light. Thoughts of taking Dana/Danielle upstairs were wiped from his mind as he looked up at the wench who was blocking the light, a halo surrounding her beautiful face. A face that he had come to hope and plead that he would never see again. It was the only promise he'd come to terms with breaking.

But here she was.

"Killian?" her bright green eyes widened and for a moment Hook could imagine that the last four years hadn't happened. That she was looking at him in the moments after they had made love and nothing stood between them.

But that moment passed quickly, and a slow smirk spread across his face, eyes glinting coldly as he said, "Swan. Well, if it isn't the very pirate captain I was hoping to never see again."

"But you…" Her eyes gazed over his figure in shock. Her mind couldn't comprehend it and her face gave her away. She simply couldn't comprehend that he had turned from who he used to be, the honourable Lieutenant Jones to a dastardly handsome pirate. She couldn't comprehend that Killian Jones could become…Captain Hook?

"Take a seat, love," he grinned, giving his men a dismissive wave. He gave the woman beside him an intense look, meaning to make her follow them. He'd suddenly lost the carnal desires he'd been willing to let her satisfy a moment ago. The mere presence of Emma Swan flooding his senses. Danielle tried to pout her resistance, but Hook gave her no heed and after a moment she sighed, and followed the men away.

He smiled in satisfaction before looking back up at Emma who still hadn't moved. Her bosom – and my, the corset did wonders for it – heaved gently as she caught her breath. She seemed to be mildly hyperventilating, and his pride surged. Even after she'd abandoned him. Kicked him out to the cold. Refused to give in to her feelings. He still had that effect upon her.

"You're Captain Hook," she finally said, trying to keep the breathlessness out of her voice and failing miserably.

"Aye," he said, not taking his sharp blue eyes off her as he added in a voice that begged no question, "Now if I were you, Captain Swan, I'd take a seat."

And despite her obvious misgivings, she did.

Killian reached for the half empty jug on the table, his hands loosely moving it to the clean pile of cups and grabbing her one. He knew how much she loved her rum, so he didn't hesitate to fill it before replenishing his own.

"So, Captain," he began, the title slipping from his lips tauntingly. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

"You'll find no pleasure with me, Jo–"

"Ah, ah!" he stopped her with a tsk. "That's not my name, love."

"Hook," she interjected. "This is business."

"Who says we can't have both, Swan?" he retorted, eyes raking over her body. She was wearing clothing clearly designed to distract if not seduce her target. She clearly hadn't been expecting him, dashing rapscallion, to be on the receiving end of her feminine wiles.

"Shut up," she hissed, drawing her cloak back over herself, but it didn't quite cover her. "I need help with something. Rumour has it you're the only person who's done cross realm travel."

"I have," he answered, leaning back, "Wasn't the best of experiences. Do tell why you need my services, Captain Swan."

"The Dark One," she said simply, and his ears pricked at the mention of the demon. His hand clenched as he brought it down on the table beside his rum. He leant in closer as he hissed.

"And what do you know of him, Swan? The Dark One isn't someone you attack on a whim."

"I've been at this game far longer that you have, Hook," Emma answered, tapping her nails on the table with each word she said. "You know that. And you know I do nothing without reason."

"You did me without reason," he hissed bitterly.

"Gods, you're still stuck on that?" Emma answered in frustration. "Look, if you can't help me, then I'll leave and you'll never have to see me again."

Killian knew without doubt that wasn't an option.

"If the Dark One is your target, then other realms will do you no good," he replied honestly. "The Dark One's dagger is the only way to control and kill him. Upon my return from Neverland I learnt that he keeps it on him. In his castle. Nigh impregnable."

"Unless you're a skilled thief," Emma pondered in mild surprise. "Good thing I am."

"Swan," Hook said doubtfully. "That's a suicide mission." He was still annoyed that Blackbeard hadn't shown up with the Dark One's itinerary for the week.

"If he ends up dead, does it matter?"

"What?" Hook was momentarily stunned, but Emma merely shrugged.

"So, the dagger."

"Oh no, lass," Hook interrupted, his hook tapping the table impatiently, "This is my job, Swan, and you'll not interfere unless you want a place in my brig."

"We can work together –"

Hook laughed coldly, "That doesn't sound like you at all. I thought you had a certain fondness for locking people in the brig. Surely you wouldn't mind a stay in the chambers of the Jolly Roger for a while."

"No," Emma's frown returned as she reached for her rum. "I'm not going to be your prisoner."

"I could just take you," he commented, leaning backwards, and the meaning wasn't lost on her, eyes widening in comprehension. And he knew he saw the darkening of lust in their emerald depths.

"So, here's my plan, Swan," Hook began. "I don't trust you. Not one bit. Never have, never will. You're going to 'seduce' me, and take me upstairs. Then I'm going to lock you inside for the night and take my ship and get out of here."

He watched as she thought over his words, and saw the moment she agreed. Leaning in closely to him, she whispered, "Shall we set sail, Captain?"

She slipped her left hand into his right and tagged him along and up the stairs. His crew gave loud jeers as Hook shot them a dashing smile. He kept his eyes firmly on her backside before sidling closer to her on the second landing.

"Room 6," he murmured. And it was only then that she realised how entirely inappropriately close to her he was and froze slightly. She almost sprinted to the door and Hook chuckled as he followed her into the room.

The darkness however, served an inconvenient purpose.

The moonlight through the window gave her skin an unearthly glow and Hook couldn't help but be enraptured by the shine. He was, after all, a pirate. And he took what he wanted.

Gods, he wanted her.

She wanted him.

She could feel his eyes on the back of her head. Staring at her; staring through her. Emma spun round to glance at him.

"You know," Hook pondered, a steely glint in his eye. "Since we're here…Strip."

"What?" Emma's mouth dropped open. Yes, she felt the electrical sexual charge that was emanating between the two of them. But she also knew that there was a four year absence sitting between them…

"Well if you won't…" he shrugged at her lack of reaction, reaching for the ties of her corset. She pulled away and he laughed. A cruel cutting laugh.

"I'm going to bed you either way, Swan," he continued, "You can either make it easy or hard. And I'm not adverse to either, as you can tell." He waved his hand over the growing arousal in his pants and Emma gulped, remembering what it felt like to have him inside her and her core clenching at the very thought.

But Emma had never seen this coldness. He wanted her body and nothing else. He wanted a good fuck and that was it. She couldn't remember there ever being absolutely no feelings involved. Gods. What had turned him into the pirate that stood before her?

His hand settled on her waist and a spark went through her. His body slid against hers, connecting through their clothing and her breath hitched.

"That's it darling," Hook crooned, pushing aside the hair on her neck to press his lips against her skin. His scruff scraped at her skin, the texture forcing her to shiver, goosebumps erupting over her skin as he brought the silvery hook up to the front of her corset.

She tried to stop him, but her own hands wouldn't let her. She damned her body, betraying her as wetness pooled between her thighs. Hook had her corset ripped open in seconds, the material falling to the floor in shreds. His hand began to bunch her skirts at her thigh as he groaned into the skin of her neck, rubbing himself against her ass. As he lifted the dress up and over her head, she didn't stop him. She helped him. Her arms up and reaching around to grasp the back of his neck as she crushed every thought that told her this was wrong and instead spun to kiss him.

Her lips connected with his softly at first, but he was having none of it. Hook wound his good hand through her golden locks, gripping it tightly as she groaned. He wasn't soft; he didn't want a lover.

The cold metal of his hook trailed down her body, awakening her nipples to the cool air and causing her to let out a low whimper in the back of her throat. He ripped through the material of her panties as she tried to tug his dark leather coat from his shoulders, but he was already pushing her towards the bed. At the edge, he pushed her onto the mattress and stood over her.

She was surprised by the space he commanded. He was hardly the same person. Sure, his face had similar features, but the man behind it…

As he threw off his jacket and shirt, he leant down to pull off her boots. Emma noticed the multiple scars that now criss-crossed his back. The soft marking of tattoos against the harsh signs of war. She reached to touch them when he muttered quickly, "Lie back on the bed, Swan."

He divested himself off his boots quickly, still unlacing his pants as he climbed onto the mattress after her. He was staring intently at her body, his tongue unconsciously slipping out to dampen his lips before he reached the woman before him. He hungrily bit down on the skin of her neck, sure to leave a mark that she protested. But it soon turned into a moan. And at last Emma gave in.

She reached for his pants and pushed them down past his fully hard cock. Hook's hand reached between her legs to find the readiness of her and he chuckled, "Deny yourself all you want, love," he whispered against her collar, "But you are so wet that I could fuck you when I've barely even touched you."

Emma gasped. It was the first time she'd ever heard him truly curse.

Fuck, it shouldn't turn her on. But it did.

His fingers toyed with her folds, teasingly slipping in and out before he'd evidently grown tired, and settled his length between her legs. With one sharp thrust he was inside her. She screamed at the intrusion, hand clinging to his arms for support. He thrust shallowly to allow her to get used to him. And she was grateful. It had been a very long time since she'd last had a man.

It had been him in fact.

And gods, she'd missed him.

Despite the fact that it felt like there was something key missing, she loved the way that he filled her, his muscles tensing and releasing above her as he thrusted increasingly harder and faster until she felt the wooden headboard digging into her back painfully.

She opened her mouth to protest but Hook quieted her with a powerful kiss. It was possessive and marking and when he ordered her to turn over, she hesitated. This was so bad for her. Bad for him.

But she needed it.

She was on her knees, hands holding onto the headboard when he pushed himself into her again, filling and stretching her as he pounded into her body relentlessly. It was only then that Emma realised the intelligible grunts spilling from his mouth were a litany of curses.

Cursing her.

Because having her beneath him wasn't entirely because he wanted her. She was sure that was in there somewhere. But this…he was trying to punish her…

"Jones," she muttered softly and was met with the whispered curse of what she could now understand as, 'Fucking bitch'.

"Jones," she repeated.

"What's the matter, Princess," he answered mockingly, leaning over her as he stilled for a moment. He pressed an unconvincingly soft kiss to her shoulder as he taunted, "Can't take it hard?"

She let out a whimper of pleasure as he began to move again, changing his angle so he was hitting that spot inside of her that made her see stars. With a few quick thrusts, she was shaking against him, walls clenching as she gasped and moaned loudly. Her arms went slack as she fell into the bed.

Hook stopped his movements and turned her over again. But Emma pushed through her haze. Yes. He could still bring her pleasure.

But this wasn't right.

She pushed him back on the bed with all the force she could muster, swinging her leg over him and sinking down onto his cock without a moment's thought. His head felt back as he was enveloped by her welcoming heat. She started hard. Riding him for all he was worth. But as time passed on and the simmerings of a strong desire built in her core, she began to run her hands up and down his chest, her lips following soon after.

Beneath her, she felt his body seize up, muscles clenching as his hand tightened harshly on her hip. It would leave a bruise, but she didn't mind. But she did consider the soft laughter spilling from his lips to be a point of frustration.

"Oh, Swan," he laughed softly, looking up at her, "You taught me how to fuck. I tried to fix you and look how that turned out. You fucked me. It seems we all end up fucking each other in the end."

"I didn't…I…"

"Don't make excuses for yourself, love," he hissed, jumping upright so that they were chest to chest. His breath was hot on her face and he breathed huskily, "You and I both know its true. Make me come and we're even."

"Why," she whispered as she began to roll her hips over him once again. "Why do this?"

"Because I can," he answered indifferently. "That's why you did, wasn't it?"

"I needed you," she answered angrily. "I didn't simply toy with you for fun."

"Ah, but you admit you toyed with me?" he answered, lips against her shoulder. "Just an insatiable slut who wasn't satisfied with her predicament."

Emma pulled back and slapped him, her eyes red with anger and his face stinging with the force of her hand hitting his face. "Don't you dare!"

"Why not," he answered, stalking forward over the bed as she crawled up against the pillows. "In everything but words I was your whore. And then you dumped me because you were too fucking afraid."

"So what if I was!" she yelled back. "You were too!"

"You have no idea what I was willing to give up for you," he answered angrily, taking the hands that she was trying to push him off with and putting them above her head. He pinned them there with his hook as he covered her body with his own. "I would've stayed, had you taken your head out of your ass for one fucking minute and realised that maybe, someone other than your pining first mate, could actually care for you."

"Your current situation isn't lending regret to my mind, Hook," Emma answered shortly in response. "You'd be in Davy Jones locker the second you treated me like this."

"You made me this way, darling," he answered with a cold grin, pressing his hardness into her. "And since I'm not your prisoner anymore." He sunk into her once again, using his free hand to tracing along her leg before pulling it up to hook around his hip. He went deeper, and faster and despite her misgivings, Emma felt herself spiralling towards her climax once more.

"You'll get what you want, love," he hissed, "You'll get a goodbye. I'll never see you again."

That's not what I want.

"I want you to help me take revenge on Rumplestiltskin."

"I have no interest," he grunted, pulling his hook from its clasp on her hands, "In working with you."

"I'll pay you," Emma answered, her free hands travelling up his chest to latch around his neck. She forced him to look her in the eyes. "Anything you want."

"What I want, you can't give, Swan," he hissed. And Emma saw, for a moment, the sorrow in his dark eyes. She was right. She couldn't erase the last four years. Because quite plainly, events had unfurled that had driven Killian Jones into the depths of darkness.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her hand brushing his cheek. He faltered at the sincerity in her voice. She knew that there was water gracing her eyes and she could almost swear she heard him mumur, "Thank you," before he was pushing into her once again, his hips stuttering as he ventured closer to oblivion. He came with a final growl, hook hitting the pillow beside her head as she arched her back into him, pulling him infinitely close as they came apart.

"I want you," he whispered finally, still inside of her.

"What?" she breathed in confusion, still trying to catch her breath.

"I want you as payment."

"I can't," Emma's eyes were frantic as she registered his words. "I can't just…my ship…my crew…"

"They're loyal to you, Swan," he answered, "Then again, they're also not my problem. You want my help? You pay the price."

She was quiet for a few moments. Her ship could trail behind, she just wouldn't be on it. It wouldn't be so bad. She could pass it off to her crew as diplomacy so they wouldn't mutiny. Graham in charge and keeping her safe…it would be okay…

She had to have Henry.

"Okay," she whispered finally. "But just for the duration of our venture. And you have to promise."

"On my honour," he answered with a grin as he pulled out of her.

"Honour," she scoffed.

He looked at her strangely, "Amongst thieves there is more honour than the realms of nobility."

And thinking of the nobility; the family that had long since abandoned her, Emma couldn't help but agree.

She tucked her knees up to her chin as she watched him pulling his pants back on and letting herself appreciate the amazing things they did for his physique. Emma congratulated herself on introducing leather to him.

"You're coming with me," he pointed out when he didn't hear her move.

"You ripped my corset," she stated matter-of-factly. A fond glimpse of the garment made his lips quirk upwards

"So I did," he answered. "Put the dress on, I'll give you my jacket."

Emma set about her work quietly, noticing the constant trail of Hook's eyes upon her. She slipped her dress over herself and pulled her boots on quickly. Without underpants she felt extremely bare. He was behind her when she turned around, startling her with his proximity.

"Don't surrender to me, Swan," Hook muttered firmly, tilting her head up with his hook. "You are fire."

"I won't," she answered strongly, pulling away to grab his jacket off the floor and spin it around her shoulders. But her usual fierceness had fled her the moment she came face to face with him again. And she knew why; she'd never tell him. But she knew why.

Weakness.

"I sleep with one eye open," she warned him, and he laughed as he followed her out the door. She heard him muttering smugly:

"Not if I tire you out with other activities first."

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