Killian surfaced, gulping down air as he looked around hastily. He didn't examine his surroundings for long, stopping as soon as he caught sight of a pier to his right and swimming over with steady strokes. The pier wasn't tall - support columns held the wood planks only a few feet above the water's surface - so the underside was pitch dark. Slowly, careful not to splash, Killian wrapped one arm around a support beam to steady himself, listening closely for the guards. He could hear their shouts from over on the royal ship, but the night was dark enough - the moon had hidden itself behind cloud cover - and he was well hidden enough that he was reasonably confident they wouldn't notice him if he waited long enough.

As much as he loved the sea, Killian found himself cursing it now. The waves were no longer calm, buffeting him as he tried to stay still. The wood itself was slippery beneath his fingers, and the waves picked up in force until he was barely able to hang on. He found himself instinctively trying to use his left hand, wincing and ceasing the motion at the sudden sting each time he tried to shift it.

Time dragged on slowly, the sound of the waves picking up as the wind grew worse. Slowly, the voices of shouting guards died down, a gentle decrescendo until the only sound was the rush of water surrounding him. Once somewhat warm, the water had taken on a sudden chill, and his eyes were stinging as he climbed onto the pier, collapsing onto his back in sheer exhaustion as soon as he heaved himself onto dry land.

Killian allowed himself a few moments of rest as he pondered his next move. Panic stole over him all at once, the severity of his situation finally dawning on him; he hadn't even considered breaking the law for years, and now he was a wanted criminal forced to go on the run. Time lost all meaning as he lay there, the syncopation of his stuttering heart - and the corresponding throbbing of his wrist - the only measurement of how long he stayed motionless.

Eventually, however, that same pain was what broke him from his fugue. All at once, the rush of waves returned, the sound washing over him in much the same way as the water itself washed over the dock supports. A single harsh cry sounded from farther within town, the impetus needed to spur him into action.

Killian groaned and rolled over, pushing himself clumsily to his feet. The area around him was still quiet, which gave him a little time, but he had no sense of how much time had passed and no plan, which made whatever lead he had practically meaningless. As he stood, he caught sight of the Jewel's masts in the distance, a pang of sadness hitting him as he realized he'd likely not be able to return to the ship that had been his home for years; after all, the Jewel was close and usually safe, but chances were the men tracking him down would expect him to take refuge on his own shape. Plus, if nothing else, he owed it to his crew to steer clear and not bring yet more trouble down upon them. The same was true of his home, which left him with only one potential safe harbor nearby, and not one he was confident about, either.

Killian stumbled forward, walking as quickly and silently as possible away from the docks despite the shaking in his limbs from a combination of cold and exhaustion. The smell of salt was thick in the air, the scent rising from his stiff, waterlogged clothing as he hurried through the silent town. The shadows seemed deeper than normal, unbroken save for the light from a few still-lit windows that barely permeated more than a foot or so into the darkness.

Regina Mills lived in a large house in the middle of town. It might not have been a mansion, per se, but it always held the feel of one, and it was a veritable castle compared to the other houses in town. White siding, balconies, and columns adorned the front, a walk surrounded by neatly trimmed hedges providing a path to the front door. In daytime, it held an almost regal air; now, it was almost spooky in the dim light.

Killian knew he was risking a lot by trying to seek help from his boss - for all he knew, the guards would be expecting him here as well - but she had once told him to come to her if he needed anything. Now was the time to cash in, and he could only hope that offer was still on the table. Still walking slowly, he approached the door, rapping his knuckles against the flawless white paint in a muffled double tap.

The house stayed silent, so he knocked again, wincing as the increased volume split the quiet air. This time, the door was opened and Killian watched it open to reveal a woman facing away from him. She was - as the mayor was wont to do - dressed in a pantsuit, but Killian was startled to see not the dark-haired bob of Regina but the long, ginger hairstyle of her sister. The woman whirled, saccharine smile stretched across painted lips as she looked him over, eyes lingering on where his right hand wrapped protectively around his left.

Killian looked up and down the street, not bothering to restrain his confusion as he asked, "Zelena? Is Regina here?"

Her smile widened, turning still more sinister in the darkness. "Not here right now, Captain." Killian looked around again and, by the time he turned back, Zelena had taken a step back. "Come in."

Killian looked into the darkened house before stepping forward, passing through the doorway and standing there awkwardly as she shut the door. He couldn't see much - the foyer was neat, with a staircase wending its way in a circle up to the second floor, but shrouded in darkness - so he abandoned the pursuit, turning his attention back to the woman standing before him.

She stepped back from the door, heels clacking sharply against the polished wooden floor as she led him into a study. She gestured half-heartedly to an armchair and he sank into it, looking around warily. His instincts were telling him to leave, to distrust the woman - his rival for so many years - despite her sister's offer, to take his chances outside, but he didn't dare listen; he didn't have anywhere else to go, and he had absolutely zero experience in being on the run. So, he stayed, watching as she sat onto the desk, crossing her legs and looking straight at him.

He risked speaking aloud even as the house stood silent around them. "Might I speak to your sister?"

Zelena shook her head and laughed lightly, ginger curls bouncing as she tossed her head. "Sis isn't here right now." She paused, looking over at him again. "I heard about your… misfortune. How far back are the guards?"

He shrugged. "I'm afraid I don't know. The last I saw of them, they were combing the area near the docks, but that was a while ago. They could be hours behind… or they could be here in a matter of minutes."

Zelena nodded, watching him closely before nodding briskly and sliding off the desk, landing easily on her feet. "Do you need money?"

"Aye, thank you."

She walked away, gesturing for him to follow as she walked closer to the door. She opened it and exited before stopping on the other side, hand still resting on the knob. "Do you have a pistol? A sword?"

Killian shook his head, not bothering to hide the expression of incredulity on his face.. "Of course not."

"Good." Before he even had time to process the word, the door slammed shut, the lock engaging with a click.