A/N: Hi guys, because the latest chapter triggered such a strong response, let me say a few words.

I never intended to hurt people who experienced such a horrible crime, and I'm very sorry for that! I changed the warnings. But I have to say that I always warned in my author's notes of dark themes and that this is not necessarily a light hearted story. Rape is a serious topic and it happens in reality, so it can happen in stories. It was planned when I started this fic and I thought a lot about it. The consequences will be addressed. For me, a hero isn't a person in a suit with superpowers, but someone who comes back from the worst. Someone who stands up and fights his way back into life, no matter what.

Be certain, this story is still about hope and Emma's journey is far from over.

Chapter 14: Breaking Glass

The girl was as light as a feather, lying limply in his arms as he carried her aboard. Johnston was right behind him, about to guide them in the direction of the infirmary, but Hook stopped him and pointed to the other hatch leading to his quarters. Thus, Dr. Johnston hurried to get his treatment bag from the infirmary to join him later in the cabin. Killian intended to go straight to the cabin, not wanting to expose the girl to the gazes of the crew any longer. A crew member opened the hatch for him.

"Bring a hot bath and fresh towels," Killian instructed him before leaving deck.

Away from prying eyes, he gently sat the girl in one of the chairs and checked her pulse. As he touched her skin, she whimpered again but didn't regain full consciousness.

He waited for the doctor, who returned shortly after with a hot bowl of water. Frowning, the doctor started his work. He examined her body, inspected the bruises and palpated her abdomen. At last, he took a look at her genital area. She didn't put up a fight, just sobbed a few times and drifted off again. Killian was standing a few feet away, watching every movement with crossed arms. Finally, Johnston got up and shook his head.

"They were rough with her, but she probably has no internal injuries. I guess we interrupted them just in time to prevent serious physical damage. Nevertheless, her skin is bruised very badly."

"Will she recover?"

"I think so, at least physically," the doctor answered. "But she needs to rest. Alone, away from the crew. Seeing too many men all at once will probably frighten her to death. We have to keep the triggers low. She should be around someone she knows. And the wounds have to be cleaned and bound."

"I can manage that," Hook said. He knew her resentment for the doctor, so perhaps it was better if she was just with him. But he still had a burning question.

"Did you know?"

Johnston shook his head again. "I had no clue. She managed to hide it well."

To that Killian agreed. Like everyone else, he still couldn't believe it.

He closed the door behind the doctor and waited until two of his men brought the bathtub and the water. They gave the girl a few curious looks, but left without a comment.

He had told Johnston he would manage, but it still felt strange as he took the coat off and removed the remaining clothes. Every touch seemed to hurt her, though she didn't move. Her only reaction was her trembling when he carried her towards the bathtub.

Killian tried to be gentle as he cleaned her damaged body. He moved the cloth over her face and washed the dirt out of her hair. As time went by, the water turned deep red. The sight made him swell with anger and helplessness at the same time. He had failed miserably in his abilities as a captain. Not only had he highly misjudged some of his crew members, but also had let it happen under his command. Emmett shouldn't have been alone, he should have insisted on taking him to the tavern with them. Not him, he corrected himself. Her.

She was like a stranger to him, even though he knew her for months. Her skin was soft, her facial features fine. He knew her eyes were emerald green, like fresh grass, even as they were closed now. He moved the cloth over them and removed dried blood from her long lashes.

Her breasts were small and she didn't have broad hips. She even looked a little boyish with her short hair, but apart from that, undoubtedly female. Obviously she wasn't gay at all. Jake must have known. He must have found out when he'd examined her on the day they sank the naval ship. He'd fallen for her and lied to him to keep her safe. Daft boy.

That also explained why she'd always been nervous around him. He thought back to the day when he'd captured her. Damn it, he had intimidated her, undressed in front of her and even humiliated her! The memories of the things he'd done to her to toughen her up made him feel intense shame.

Killian lifted her out of the bathtub and disinfected her wounds with a bottle of alcohol the doctor had given him. Then he went to his wardrobe, reaching for a box. From time to time he instructed Bernie to wash the clothes in there to keep them free of dust, but he himself hadn't touched them in years. He chose a white nightgown Milah had loved. It was painful to see it again, but it would serve its purpose.

After drying her with a towel he dressed the girl, then carried her to his bed. He was the only one on this ship who had the luxury of a soft mattress, and there was no way he would let her sleep on the infirmary's hard bunk.

As he wrapped the blanket around her, she sighed and instinctively curled into a ball. He felt the urge to touch her hair, but then pulled his hand away and walked to the chair, pouring himself a glass of rum. Getting drunk was an appealing thought, but he wanted to remain more or less sober and decided to keep it at one drink. One thing was certain; he wouldn't sleep a minute tonight.

So he just kept his eyes on the bed and listened to the shallow breathing of the girl. At least, she seemed to sleep now.

He still couldn't wrap his mind around it. Why hadn't he seen it? Once, in Neverland, he'd met a lost boy who resembled her. He'd been young, with an angelic face that could have passed for a girl's. He had met all kinds of different people throughout the years, a boy like Emmett wasn't unusual to him. But he should have seen it anyway. There had been so many hints. Her uneasiness around naked men, her refusal to take off her shirt, even if it was hot as hell. He'd even touched her multiple times. How hadn't he felt it? How could he have been so blind?

He probably shouldn't keep calling her Emmett, though. It obviously wasn't her real name. Why was she even traveling dressed as a boy? Her sister had been drawing attention, anyway. Walking around with a pretty lass in such a noble cloak was like carrying a target on her back.

Bloody hell!

He choked on his drink as the scales fell from his eyes, only to down the rest of the liquor in one gulp.

Of course Ruby wasn't her sister, she didn't even resemble her! The wolf had been the protector of the Princess, that was what she'd told him. She'd been under a lot of pressure, and had probably kept close to the truth, trying not to get caught in her own trap. Obviously very successful, because he'd blindly believed her.

And if the last three letters were exchanged with an A, Emmett became Emma.

Everything made sense now. The Princess of the Enchanted Forest, daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, hadn't been killed. She had been on the run with her bodyguard, disguised as a boy, probably on the way to Arendelle. He knew Queen Elsa was a close ally of the kingdom. And they had almost made it, until they'd accidentally boarded the Jolly Roger. His ship.

Bloody buggering hell! He was screwed, terribly screwed. He'd kidnapped a princess, violated her and let her be raped by members of his own crew. He jumped up from his chair and walked across the room in discomfort. If that came out, he would be a dead man. He would be hanged. Not for piracy, but for high treason. And perhaps not only him, but his entire crew.

He stopped in front of the bed, looking down at her. Her face was buried in the pillow. She had cocooned herself in the sheet, her hands gripping it tightly. When she turned, silent whimpers escaped her lips. Even in her sleep she couldn't shake the pain. No, he couldn't let her disappear, he just couldn't! It would be beyond evil and he shuddered at the thought alone.

There had been a ship from Arendelle. Was it actually possible they could have been looking for her? The wolf had boarded a ship to Arendelle and certainly organized a search party. She knew that they had set a course south, so it was entirely possible. The Princess, Emma, must have known that. He knew that she had noticed the ship, he had watched her for quite a while. She had seemed agitated, but at that time he'd attributed it to the loss of Jake.

Killian swallowed as his eyes roamed over her. He had allowed her to leave for the day. She could have easily walked to the ship, reveal herself and have him arrested. But instead, she had returned to the Jolly Roger. Alone.

He abruptly went back to the chair. She had been raped because she trusted him. And what had he done? Enjoyed himself in the tavern with a bloody bar wench instead of taking care of his crew. Even flirted with the idea of getting rid of the girl. How pathetic!

He had no choice; he had to pour himself another drink, drown his guilt in alcohol. At some point between his second and third drink, he filled a carafe with water and put it on the table by the bunk, in case she woke up thirsty.

-/-

He woke with a start at the sound of breaking glass. His head had been lying on the backrest in an awkward position, and pain shot through his neck as he moved. He opened his eyes with a groan, searching for the source of the noise. With relief, he noticed that it had only been the carafe which had fallen down.

Emma's eyes were wide open in fear as she looked at the flinders.

"I'm sorry," she exclaimed, her voice trembling. "I didn't mean to break it. I was just so thirsty."

Killian exhaled deeply. It was so good to hear her voice. Somehow he'd been afraid she could have lost her mind, leaving behind an empty shell. But she was talking again. That was good!

"I don't care about the bloody carafe," he groaned and stood up to get some new water. He returned with a glass and sat down on the edge of the bed. She looked up at him with her big green eyes. Still afraid, but also irritated.

"Please don't hurt me," she whispered, her voice scratchy, and it almost broke his heart. He leaned down to her and pressed the glass to her lips but she turned her head to the side.

"Just drink."

She shook her head slightly and pressed her face into the pillow. "Just do what you need to do and kill me fast."

Killian set the glass on the table as he frowned deeply. "Kill you? Why would I do that?"

Instinctively, he brushed his thumb over her cheek, removing a strand that was hiding her features. Since she boarded the ship, her hair grew quite a bit, and he wondered how she looked like when it was long. She let out a sob and winced, shivering again, and he removed his hand immediately.

Finally, she turned her face towards him, tears wetting her eyes. "I know the rules on this ship. Bringing a woman onboard under disguise is punishable by death."

Was she serious? Angry with himself, he shook his head, his eyes on her.

"I assure you, nobody on this ship will hurt you ever again, including me! You're safe here." He felt like a hypocrite for saying that and another pang of guilt hit him.

"You won't punish me?" she asked, slightly surprised, and even stopped crying for a moment.

"Hell no! How could you even think that?"

She swallowed hard and looked at him with wide eyes. Killian made another attempt to make her drink some water and this time she complied. He helped her sit up, and then pressed the glass to her lips. She tried to hold it on her own, but her hands trembled too much, so he had to help her. He knew she was intimidated by his physical closeness, but he didn't know how to change it. He wouldn't leave her alone tonight, not even for a minute. Not again.

She only took a few sips of water, and then pushed it away. Looking at him for a moment, her lips trembled. "I'm sorry for my lies," she blubbered out. "I'm sorry I didn't listen to you."

"It's alright," he hushed her.

"No it's not. I should have come with you to the tavern."

The lump in his throat tightened. He didn't know how to respond to that. It had been a long time since a lass had cried in front of him. The bar wenches usually weren't that sentimental and Milah had never expressed an emotion close to that. She had been fearless.

The only way he'd ever known to comfort a woman was to pull her into his arms and make her forget that he would leave the next morning. Obviously that was impossible in this case. He couldn't even touch her. So he told her the next thing he could think of.

"You'll be alright, Princess."

It must have been exactly the worst thing to say, because she stared at him in shock and her trembling increased. "How do you know?"

He smiled softly. "It's not too hard to figure it out. But I have to admit, you pulled 'the Swan' quite effectively."

"What?"

"Don't you remember? 'Pull the White Swan'. We use the term when we disguise the ship."

She didn't respond, just looked at him in confusion.

"I never would have thought my stowaway would be a Princess. A Swan Princess."

He tilted his head, watching her closely with a little smile that was supposed to cheer her up. Bewildered, he tried to make sense of the fresh tears that were escaping her eyes.

"Don't call me that," she sobbed. "I'm not a princess. Please!" She sounded desperate.

He didn't know how to react. He'd only wanted to charm her, to ease her pain a bit but it had just triggered the contrary. He felt helpless.

"Alright," he quickly responded. "Can I just call you Swan then?"

He didn't dare to ask her if he could say Emma.

Finally, she nodded. He was sitting on the edge of the bed and none of them spoke for a while.

"It hurts so much," she whispered suddenly.

"I know," he said softly, lightly running his fingers over the sheet, rearranging it around her. "Just try to sleep a little bit."

It was a pathetic answer, because he didn't know anything about that kind of pain, but she surprised him in accepting it and didn't burst out into new tears. She stopped crying, and after a while her breath became calmer, indicating she had drifted off to sleep again. He kept stroking over the blanket for a while, then got up and walked back to the chair, like he'd done multiple times that night.

To restrain himself, he put away the rum and drank some water instead. Falling asleep wasn't possible, for that he was too churned up inside. So he listened to every sound from the bed, to her breathing that was steadier than before, implying that she was in deep sleep.

After half an hour, a short knock broke the silence. He rose from the chair and opened it. Morren was standing outside.

With a glance to Emma he stepped out of the room and closed the door as silently as possible and waited for Morren's report.

"Mr. Avery has been locked up in the brig. I ordered the crew to the crew's quarters, but they're restless and wait for your appearance."

Killian shook his head. "I won't talk to them tonight. My presence is needed here and I haven't had any time to decide how to proceed."

Morren looked at the door, and Killian saw millions of questions in his eyes, but his friend was a discrete man, not forcing answers when he didn't want to give them.

"I'll tell them you'll take the night to make some decisions," he offered, "but you need to come to the galley for a few minutes. Bernard is devastated and you need to talk to him."

Killian frowned. He hadn't thought of Bernie yet. Looking back at the door, he decided to follow Morren, hoping Emma wouldn't wake up while he was gone.

Bernie was sitting with sagging shoulders on a stool next to the stove in the company of Ramsay. He was holding a cup of tea in his cleaned hands, and Killian noticed he was wearing one of Ramsay's shirts. The rage had completely vanished from the sailor and left behind a picture of misery. Ramsay was talking to him in a low voice, but he stopped when Killian entered.

"How's she?" Ramsay asked when Hook grabbed the third stool and sat down. Morren closed the door and remained standing.

"As would be expected under the circumstances," he answered soberly.

Bernie refused to look him in the eye.

"Emmett must hate me," he finally said.

"It's Emma," Hook said softly and watched Ramsay, who didn't show the slightest surprise. Obviously, he'd already figured out her identity, probably along with all of the cleverer men of his crew. He was almost sure the rumor had spread in the crew, so secrecy was moot.

"Why should she hate you?"

Bernie looked up for the first time, meeting his eyes as if it was obvious. "Because I didn't protect her."

And there it was again, that knot in his chest, the guilt that was overwhelming him.

"It's the Captain's job to assure the crew's safety. Not yours," he replied brusquely. "Nobody saw what was directly in front of our eyes. There was nothing you could do to prevent it."

He didn't know who he was trying to convince here.

Ramsay cleared his throat.

"Apparently that is not the truth, Captain."

"What do you mean?"

"I've known it for a while."

Everyone stared at Ramsay. Morren has left the door and came closer. "Since when?"

"Well, I didn't know it for certain. But the day we sank that bloody naval ship we were in the water for quite some time. Both of us were soaked to the bones and I could clearly see her curves. I wasn't sure if I was hallucinating but when we were on the ship, it became quite obvious. There was a pattern in the way she behaved. She never touched anybody, never took her shirt off, but was very cautious of hygiene and of course there was her nervousness if a man came too close. She fancied Jake from the first moment she'd set eyes on him. And considering her closeness to the wolfgirl and the fact that there wasn't any resemblance made it clear who she must be. We all remember her reaction when she learned about her parent's death."

He finished, responding to Killian's gaze with determination.

"And you never thought of telling me any of this?" Killian growled. He just couldn't believe it. One of his closest friends he'd known since his time in the Navy had kept a secret like that to himself. "You chose to conspire with Jake rather than trusting your captain? You should have known better."

"I didn't talk to Jake at all. Nor to Emma," Ramsay snarled back.

Killian boiled with indignation, which pushed away the guilt. Ramsay had betrayed him in the worst way. He was a friend, and he'd lied to him. Anger was consuming him. He needed to punish someone, badly.

Standing up from his stool, he approached Ramsay. "You made a terrible, terrible mistake, my friend. No one crosses me like that, not even you."

"What did you expect?" Ramsay said calmly. "This woman is a marvel. She saved my life that day. And since then, she challenged herself over and over again. She doesn't give a shit about conventions anymore and decided to study medicine. How brilliant is that? She's as old as my child would have been, and I would have protected her secret at all costs. I would do it again, even if that means I have to lie to you."

This was practically enough to charge Ramsay for treason, but Killian couldn't help but calm down. He knew Ramsay had always dreamed of a daughter, but had decided that wasn't in store for him after his wife's death. Ramsay was the most loyal person he knew besides Bernie and Morren. Family had always been sacred to him. He would die for his family and somehow he'd decided to adopt the girl as a replacement for the unborn child that had died with its mother.

"I expected you to trust me," he simply said and saw a pang of guilt in Ramsay's eyes. "I wouldn't have hurt her."

"You're sure?" Ramsay retorted. "You would have abandoned her on the next piece of land we made port in. Exactly like you did with her pretty friend. You wouldn't have accepted a woman on this ship. Not after Milah."

Killian wanted to protest, but all of them knew that what Ramsay said was the truth. Killian hadn't bore the presence of women on the ship since Milah had been murdered here. Seeing another female member of his crew covered in blood was like reliving it again. It paralyzed him. Even so, Ramsay's action had partly contributed the events.

"Then why come to the tavern with me," he spat at him. "You know Gemunos isn't a safe place at night."

Ramsay frowned. "Don't think I don't blame myself." He pointed to Bernie. "We all do."

That was all he had to say. He wasn't a man of big apologies, never had been. Saying sorry wouldn't undo the events and they all knew it.

"So what now," Morren, who had been silent during the whole conversation, asked.

"You're gonna have to kill me," Bernie said from his right.

Killian looked at the sad man. He knew of what the sailor was referring to. Like Emma, he knew the rules of this ship. Killing a crew member was punishable by death. Bernie hadn't acted in self-defense but street justice. Only the captain was allowed to sentence a crew member to death and Bernie had committed a serious crime.

Ramsay stared at him in disbelief and of course Killian knew what he was thinking. There was no way he would kill Bernie for murdering one of the rapists. Both of them deserved death. On the other hand, he had to stay true to the code he had established on this ship.

"You can't kill him," Ramsay claimed, fixing Killian with a glare.

"It won't come to that," Morren tossed in. "We can sidestep the rules."

"What do you suggest?" Killian asked.

Morren stepped closer and put a hand on Bernie's shoulder.

"Let the crew decide how to proceed with the prisoner. Say that these are extraordinary circumstances and coherence is needed in that decision. I've seen the men. Everyone is shocked; they liked our cabin boy as much as we do. And after that you will suggest a mild punishment for Bernie."

It was definitely a risk to give the crew that much power. As a captain he had to be strong in his leadership, and this could weaken him. But Morren was right, and he was a good strategist.

"Alright," he agreed. "Let's do it like that."

Bernie exhaled soundly and some of the tension left his shoulders.

"You're gonna be alright, mate," Ramsay said grimly. "Nobody would want to miss your fabulous stew."

His friend smiled a little, but he was still worried.

"Adam, please inform the crew that I'll expect everyone on deck at sunrise," Killian instructed Morren and dismissed him and Ramsay. He wanted to have a word with Bernie before returning to his quarters.

When they were alone in the room, Killian finally voiced a thought that was reeling in his mind for a while.

"I think, it's time to thank you properly, my old friend."

Bernie looked at him in confusion. "You're thanking me for killing a sailor?"

"I'm thanking you for trying to protect Emma."

If Bernie hadn't killed the men, maybe someone else would have done it. If he would've caught them in the act, he'd probably done it himself.

"She was so afraid of me," Bernie said quietly. "She'll never talk to me again."

"It was because of the blood and the shock. This woman is a strong lass. She will recover."

He wasn't sure about that, but it was what Bernie needed to hear, and it was what he hoped for.

"Can I see her?"

Killian shook his head. "It's better for her to stay in the cabin for a few days. As soon she's ready, I'll send for you."

"Of course," Bernie answered, but doubt lingered in his voice.

Killian was worried about his friend. The peaceful man had never shown signs of violence before, and he couldn't possibly know what that had done to him. He would ask Ramsay to keep an eye on the chef for the next few weeks.

"I have to return to my quarters now. Is that alright?"

Bernie nodded and forced a smile.

With a heavy heart, Killian left the galley. He stopped at the ladder, looking down into the ships belly. For a moment he considered visiting the brig, but instead decided not to waste his time and return to Emma. He knew what was holding him back. If he were to face Avery now, there wouldn't be a trial tomorrow. He would've killed him right there with his bare hands.