When he came back to his senses, Killian could feel nothing but pain. A headache was raging at the back of his head, and, when he moved his hand to feel it, it came away sticky with blood. His stomach felt empty and gnawing, roiling even as he lay unmoving. He tried to shift his left arm, feeling it stop harshly after merely a few inches.
He struggled to sit up, fighting waves of dizziness as he did, glancing at his left arm. It was chained to the bed, a white bandage wrapped around it. Worse, it was several inches too short, blood soaking the bandage with a sickly carmine shade. He felt his stomach twist and he fell back, fighting through the fog in his head to remember what had happened. He remembered working on the ship, getting her ready for travel, and… Milah. Milah and her husband and his hand and… He remembered.
The door to the cabin opened and the ship's doctor came in. Killian looked over at him, vaguely taking in his countenance. The blond looked familiar, but Killian couldn't for the life of him remember the man's name. "Ah, good, you're awake." He smiled, hastening over to the bed and unchaining his arm from the bed. "Sorry about the restraints. Had to be sure you weren't going to worsen the wound."
Killian pulled his arm closer, stretching it slightly to ease the cramping from the restraints before wincing at the sharp pain from it. He tried to speak, but his mouth was dry. He cleared his throat and tried again. "How long has it been?"
"A few hours. Not long at all." The man stopped talking, seating himself in a chair beside Killian's bed. "I don't know if you remember me… I'm Dr. Whale. I've been helping the crew with your arm."
Killian nodded, not really caring enough to react beyond that. Instead, he asked, "Milah?"
Whale shook his head. "I'm sorry. She was dead by the time Gold's men left."
Killian nodded again, pushing himself off the bed until he was standing. The world began to spin and he had to reach out to stabilize himself, but he refused Whale's offers of help and ignored his insistence that Killian sit back down. Instead, he walked towards the door whence Whale had come, taking the steps slowly but evenly.
He winced as the bright sun struck his eyes, raising his good hand to shield them as he took in the upper decks. His crew were still scattered across the deck, some standing, others sitting, but all turned to look as he walked out. Milah's body lay in a bloodstained white sheet awaiting burial and he turned his head, avoiding looking at it as much as possible.
As he did, he caught sight of a commotion on the docks, and the sudden motions of the crew around him told him that they'd seen it as well. Another group of men even larger than the last walked towards the ship, and the crew - so still mere moments before - lunged over, forming a living blockade between the men approaching the Jewel of the Realm and their captain.
Tink walked to Killian's side, laying her hand on his shoulder. She offered him a sad smile, then gestured at her belt, shrugging apologetically. He glanced down, gaze falling on the sword - his sword - at her belt, and he nodded, smiling in a silent attempt to reassure her. If anyone had to be acting captain, he was glad it was her.
A hand struck Killian's shoulder and he whipped around, heart picking up in surprise, the memories of Gold's takeover of the ship still too fresh in his mind to be comfortable with unexpected contact. Smee stood there, his hand a gentle, though firm, grip keeping Killian in place. Killian looked over at Tink with an eyebrow raised, and she smiled her apologetic smile again. "Stay here," she whispered, darting away before he could follow or even try to stop her.
Tink walked around the crew, coming to a rest halfway between them and the strangers. This time, she gave a grin that, save for those who knew her, seemed welcoming. Even her voice was tense as she spoke, her accent more pronounced and lilting than normal. "Hello, gentlemen. What business do you have here?"
One of the strangers stepped forward, an intricate sword at his waist and a pistol hanging from his belt. His cloak shifted as he moved, revealing the uniform of a soldier underneath. When he spoke, his voice was bland and professional, a tone almost regal in how stilted it was. "Which one of you is Killian Jones?"
Killian made to step forward, but Smee stopped him, hand still tight on his arm. Before he could make any move to break free, one of his crew members at the front of the mass spoke. "I am."
The lead soldier smiled and nodded, watching as his men stepped forward with shackles procured from somewhere. The smug grin died as another crew member, this one towards the back of the blockade, repeated the statement. "No, I'm Killian Jones!"
The soldiers' eyes narrowed, looking amongst the crew as a whole, anger building on their faces as choruses of "I am Killian Jones!" rang out across the ship, building ever louder. Finally, Tink gestured for the men to stop, stepping forward with a smile. In the most saccharine tone Killian had ever heard her use, she said, "I am Killian Jones."
The soldiers stayed still, watching their leader with abject confusion on their faces. When he finally spoke, the business-like tone had dissipated, replaced by one of thinly disguised annoyance. "We are here on business from the king. I have a warrant for the arrest of one Killian Jones on the charge of murder. If you do not hand him over, you will all be charged with harboring a fugitive and you can join him in prison or death, for all we care. Make your choice."
Tink smiled again, but it had long since lost even the traces of welcome it once held. "I'm acting Captain on this boat. My job is to defend my crew, and I will do it."
Immediately, the blockade spread out as each man pulled out his sword and made ready to fight. The soldiers still on the docks acted similarly, weapons unsheathing to reveal wicked-sharp rapiers. A collective stiffening passed through the crew at the sight, and, despite his rather limited vantage point, Killian could see a trace of nervousness on Tink's face.
Just as the two groups moved to begin their conflict, he finally shouted out. "Stop!"
The entire crew of the Jewel of the Realm turned as one, looking back to their captain. Every face - especially those of Tink and Smee - held varying stages of alarm, and Tink actively shook her head in a silent attempt to dissuade him. Killian ignored them, easily breaking free of Smee's grip as he stood in shock, stepping around the crew and walking to stand at Tink's side.
Panic and anxiety whirled in his stomach, and he staggered slightly as the weakness that hadn't left him since he woke up returned in full force, but he ignored Tink's worried glance and her aborted attempt to keep him steady. Instead, he forced himself to stand in proper military posture before speaking, keeping his voice steady and loud despite the roughness crowding it. "I am Killian Jones."
He tuned out the cries of protest from behind him, shouting over his shoulder. "Lower your weapons." The hesitant whispers of sheathed swords filled the air, and even Tink restored her sword to her belt. The soldiers before him lowered their own swords, but kept them in their hands. The leader stepped over and shoved Killian forward, sending him sprawling to the rough wood of the dock. Another cry of protest went up, but Killian pushed himself to his knees, once again gesturing for his men to stop their attempts at defense, which they grudgingly obeyed.
The general spoke again, his voice once again crisp and businesslike. "Killian Jones, I hereby arrest you in the name of the king on the charge of murder. You will be appearing before Crown Prosecutor Cora Miller." As he spoke, he yanked Killian's arms behind his back, shackling them roughly in place.
The man's grip was harsh and it barely softened when it came to Killian's left arm, sending a searing pain through his arm. He bit his lip in response, keeping himself from crying out. As it was, a small grunt passed his lips, and he was left breathing heavily when the man let go. The iron taste of blood coated his tongue, and he realized that he'd broken the skin of his lip, but the pain from his arm more than drowned it out.
Killian was spared from further introspection by men at his sides, pulling him to his feet. They spun him around until he was facing the ship. He looked over his crew, wincing slightly at the pained expressions on their faces, eyes coming to rest on Tink. With the closest thing to a comforting smile he could manage, he said, "Tink… Please convey my official resignation to Madame Mills. I yield the ship and crew to your command. With the rest of your crew as witnesses, please know that I believe you to be the best choice for my replacement." In a much quieter tone, he added, "Take care of them."
Tink nodded, and Killian thought he caught a glimpse of tear tracks on her stricken face. A blow landed on the back of his head, reopening the earlier injury, and he sagged in the grip keeping him upright. The image of his outraged crew was the last thing he saw before returning to the darkness of unconsciousness.