The next time they came for him, he didn't fight them.
He'd woken at some point, finding himself back in the cell, bars back in place. He'd been lying on his side, the pain in his leg a steady, radiating agony. It wasn't quite as horrible as it had been when Hades broke it, now that he's allowed it to stiffen.
Moving it, however, he knew would be awful.
Trying not to focus on the pain, and holding onto hope out of bloody spite, Killian had searched for something to think about—anything.
Emma's face came to mind.
The feel of her hand in his.
The scent of her hair, something out of a meadow.
Her smile. The bright one he only rarely ever got from her. The one he normally only saw her wear when she thought no one was paying attention to her.
If a choked sound escaped his throat, he blamed the pain.
He hoped against hope itself she was wearing it now. Somehow, he hoped she was happy. He hoped she was all right.
Killian didn't move until the two guards—different ones than last time—came for him.
He let them take him.
He tried to focus on thoughts of Emma to keep the fear and pain at bay as they reached for him. And he again found himself wondering how long it's been, how long he's been dead. How long has Emma gone without him? Minutes? Weeks? Years? Who knew how time moved in this place. His time in Neverland felt nothing like two hundred years; this could be anything.
Killian gritted his teeth, groans slipping out as they manhandled him. Both men grabbed one of his arms, dragging him out of the cell, making sharp, horrible pain spike up his ankle all the way to his thigh. A cry escaped him, and he tried walking with his good leg to alleviate the broken one, but the men hardly slowed enough to let him get any sort of footing.
He was half-dragged to the right again, making Killian groan.
If he'd just gone left yesterday—was it yesterday?—perhaps he would have found a way out of here. It felt unlikely, but the next time he had a chance to escape, he at least knew one thing.
Right led to a dead end.
Despite the agony, Killian felt himself slip a shaky grin along his lips.
He might not be able to fight Hades off physically, might not be able to keep his bones from breaking, but he had one way to fight the God that was entirely within his control.
Killian was going to escape.
Somehow.
No matter what, at the very least, he was going to damn well hope he did.
And bask in the very small amount of satisfaction it would give him to frustrate the hell out of the God of Hell himself.
Though… perhaps he shouldn't be fighting this punishment so much—he'd done plenty in his life to warrant it. But hadn't he done that only after he'd lived through so much punishment to begin with? Not that it condoned hurting and killing what he'd known were innocent lives.
But he'd learned better. He'd changed. After over two hundred years of being bloodthirsty Hook, he found his way back to Killian.
And then he went right back the moment Emma saved his life.
He wanted to scream.
But he'd died heroically. He'd sacrificed himself to save them. Didn't that matter at all?
A very small voice inside—one that sounded startlingly like Emma—said that it did.
But the guilt, the remorse, the regret inside spoke louder, playing every scene, every wrong choice in his damn life and maybe he did deserve this after all.
But if anything, Hades' torture was nothing compared to the pain of what Killian has truly lost.
He had to die knowing that Emma was now alone. He had to die knowing that he'd found what was as close to True Love as he knew he'd ever get, to die without ever having the chance to live a true life with her. A life without running from monsters and curses.
Had his life just been destined to misery from its very start?
As he was dragged, his broken leg snagged on the ground.
He saw white for a few precious seconds, a cry lodged in his throat.
But whether he deserved the punishment or not, Killian—the most fearsome pirate in all the lands—couldn't help but admit that Hades absolutely terrified him, and he was truly afraid of how far the God would go.
He had to find some way out of here.
But dammit was hope a firelight that was getting weaker and weaker and weaker.
From what of the journey Killian had kept his eyes open for, he realized that he'd taken a straight route to Hades' throne room. The dead end that he'd met yesterday had been some sort of an illusion, and the long, dark tunnel led straight to the nightmarish place.
He was roughly let go when he reached the center of the platform, and Killian barely caught his balance, keeping his weight off his left leg. He was pathetically hunched over, but he was standing, despite how hard he was breathing and how much effort it took. He wasn't giving the God any more satisfaction.
Hades was seated on his throne. He closed a book in his lap, as if he were just finished with leisurely reading.
He gave Killian a grin. "How's the leg?" he asked.
"Still works," replied Killian, forcing himself to smirk, though the expression was taking nearly all the energy he had to offer.
"I'm sure I could fetch a peg to replace it with," said Hades, voice dripping with sarcastic kindness, "and really complete that whole pirate thing you've got going on."
Killian's smirk shifted into a glare.
Hades stood.
Killian forced himself not to flinch.
"Why don't I get you a seat, Captain? You look like you could use one."
Killian was suddenly grabbed from behind, familiar grips of the two guards who'd brought him here, and he was pulled backward, slammed into a chair that Hades had conjured.
Killian groaned, eyes screwing shut as his knee and ankle were mishandled, and it took all he had to keep the scream to a groan.
He jerked against the grips on his arms, but these guards were far stronger than the ones Hades had sent yesterday, making Killian realize even more that the whole thing had been a trap.
Manacles were snapped around his wrists, tight enough that he couldn't slip his hook through. Killian jerked anyway, glaring angrily at Hades, who was still smiling.
The guards walked away somewhere behind Killian. Hades took a few steps closer to Killian. "Comfortable?"
Killian grinned with his own dark sarcasm. "Feel the need to tie me down, do you?" His brow lifted in his own satisfaction. "Afraid to fight me fair?"
Hades' smile dropped from his face.
Killian grinned deeper.
Hades stopped in front of him. Killian forced himself not to react. "I don't fight fair." said Hades simply. "You should know something about that, pirate."
Something told Killian that very few people have stood up to this God. Have kept a fight in them.
And it angered him.
Good.
"And if we're talking about fair," Hades went on, "you've cheated death, cheated me, really, many times over." His brows shifted dangerously. "I don't even tolerate it once." He took another step closer. Killian fought the urge to flinch back. "So," said Hades, "how about I make you pay for every year you didn't deserve?" He grinned sickly. "Starting with this one."
The fist that hit him across the face exploded light in his vision.
His head was thrown to the side, pain wracking his skull. A cry tore from his lips before he shut his mouth, strangling it to a groan.
"How old are you again, Captain?"
The next fist caught him over his left eye.
He didn't bother trying to stop the cry.
The third hit him in the same place.
The fourth as well.
Something wet and hot was trailing down his cheek.
The fifth sunk into his midsection.
The hits came faster, his cries more wounded, his breathing broken and hitched. He barely had time to breathe between strikes, his chest burning from lack of air, screaming out whatever he had. He tore at the restraints, the metal not budging in the slightest.
No part of him was left without pain.
Darkness ebbed at the edge of his vision.
"Look at me, Captain."
The voice sounded like it was miles away.
A slap to his face made something broken escape his throat.
"I said, look at me."
Killian slowly lifted his head, the movement a feat in of itself. His vision was jarred and blurred. Blood trickled down his cheek from his hairline. He barely felt it; the whole left side of his face felt numb with pain.
"Still hopeful?" asked Hades, brows kneaded in what some might call a genuine expression. If not for the blood on the knuckles of both of his hands.
"Ch-ch-ch-" Killian gasped, words hard to force past throbbing everything. "Chea'd you…" He drew in a painful breath, "tw-two hun'ed years," he let himself smile, blood trickling from the split in his lip down his chin. "C'n do it… 'gain."
Hades did not look amused.
"That was the wrong answer."
Another punch struck the left side of his face.
Killian didn't stop the cry.
He's long since stopped trying to stop them.
His vision flickered.
"Well," said Hades, "I think we did well for today! We'll tackle the rest next time. Got about a hundred more years to go."
Killian barely heard the words, his vision flickering once more into darkness.