Killian blinked, long and slow with his good eye, his other too swollen to see. His only silver lining was that Hades hadn't managed to break his jaw, or his entire face, for that matter. It still hurt as if he had, his head pounding, vision swimming, and he felt something warm and wet slipping down from more than one laceration on his head, over his cheek, behind his ear, down his neck.

He was so tired.

So, damn, tired.

The pain was constant, now. Time still had no meaning, so he still had no idea how long it's been. But Killian couldn't remember the last time he didn't feel physical pain. Not one rib remained intact, and breathing hurt like hell. And now Killian finally knew the true meaning of the figure of speech; for he's finally felt hell.

Hades made good on his promise to punish him for his years in Neverland.

At some point, he graduated to a lash.

Killian didn't remember much of it. After the first beating, his head felt jumbled and hazy. One moment he's in his cell, the next he's back in Hades' nightmare. He'd woken to chains around his wrists, suspending him in the center of Hades' throne room. The man himself was seated, watching as his minions took the lash to his back. Over. And over. And over. Sometimes the bastard would get up and play a solitary game of billiards while Killian was met with the lash again, and again, and again.

Killian no longer bothered to keep his silence in the pain.

Killian only had the use of one eye, his left so swollen he couldn't see more than a blur through a crack. Not that it had mattered; pain was everywhere.

The pain all blurred together, alternating between the lash and the damn chair at the mercy of Hades' fist.

The wounds on his back from the lash were healing improperly and still bleeding; he could feel the sticky wetness from the blood even now. The bastard kept his men focused on striking the same damn places, making it feel like utter molten pain.

Killian wondered, if he had still been alive, at which point his body would have simply given out.

But Hades had been right about that; being dead meant that his body didn't have limits. The pain just kept growing. There was no cap to what he would feel. No point where his body will decide it's had enough.

Even if his body didn't have a limit, Killian did.

He felt like he reached his own limits fifty lashes ago. Every new injury made him wonder how the hell he was supposed to handle the pain. If he didn't still have the ability to lose consciousness, he would have gone mad ages ago.

His leg nearly hurt more than everything else combined, though it seemed like it had broken so long ago. No position alleviated it, making Killian wonder if they re-injured it during one of the sessions he couldn't remember. The pain radiated like molten heat through the whole limb, only second to the agony of losing his left hand.

He lay on the floor of his cell, slipping in and out of consciousness, dreading hearing footsteps or waking up back in the throne room. He had no fight left in him. The last few visits with Hades, he's stopped bothering to reply to the devil's taunts. His throat felt raw from screaming.

He hadn't lost hope, though.

Did he think it was likely that he would escape?

No.

However, holding onto hope was all he had to fight with. It was the only weapon he could wield.

But dammit, even that was becoming too heavy to hold.

Was it even hope if he didn't truly believe in it?

Was he just hoping that he had hope at this point?

He wanted to laugh, but stopped in an instant when it scalded pain everywhere. Some unhinged sound broke out of his throat.

Hades didn't seem finished with him, even after all he's already done. It chilled Killian to remember Hades' words, that the punishment would simply go on and on and on…

He couldn't take much more of this.

Killian tried to slip into the blessed darkness of unconsciousness. Trying to escape the pain. Suddenly wishing for death, then when the sick irony struck him, he found himself laughing again, a broken and hysterical sound, though one shift of his ribs caused him to cry out a keening sort of noise.

He breathed shallowly, vowing to himself he would not move again.

He settled back into the dark.

"Killian?"

Emma.

That was Emma's voice.

It felt like soothing, cool water on his broken and scarred soul.

"Killian… we're here to help you," said Emma's voice. He hasn't heard her voice in so long. He listened to it desperately, clinging onto it.

And suddenly, Killian was no longer in the blessed darkness of near unconsciousness.

He was in a cemetery; what looked like the cemetery of Storybrooke on the edge of the woodland, but this was a ghastly version of it.

And there, among her family, was Emma.

As the vision pieced itself together, he watched Emma's eyes widen.

Gods, she was beautiful.

And terrified.

He watched the fear in her eyes, wondering what scared her.

"Killian!" she whispered, her voice cracking. She looked at him, losing color in her face. "Just tell us where you are," she said desperately. "Talk to us. Talk to me!"

Killian's eye snapped open.

He was once again in his cell. The cemetery was gone. She was gone.

But that had felt so real.

He had seen her, her face so perfect. Every time he tried to remember her face the details had begun to fade. But in this… vision… her details were there so clearly. He felt her, somewhere deep in his chest.

He hadn't dreamed at all since he died.

This was no dream.

That feeling in his chest, that sureness, knew it wasn't either. Emma had spoken to him. It was some sort of magic, it had to be.

She was here.

Emma was here.

In the Underworld.

Looking for him.

And gods if he wasn't so damned scared and in so much damned pain he would be beside himself with fury that she's put herself in danger for him.

"Em—" Killian attempted her name, perhaps whatever magic she'd used for the connection was still there. But he coughed, his voice raspy and rugged, and he groaned as the cough grated his broken bones. "Emma," he breathed, her beautiful name scraped out of his ragged voice. "Love?" he whispered.

Realizing with a heaviness that their connection, whatever it was, had broken, Killian took a hollow breath. Emma was here. The realization struck him with relief and fear at once. The last thing he wanted was for her in danger because bloody hell, I told her to let me go. But the desperation in his chest, leaking through him like adrenaline, spoke louder with the fact that gods he missed her so damned much.

Suddenly a worse thought struck him; how in the hell did she get here?

But her whole family was with her, including Henry. That certainly didn't mean they were all dead… right?

No, came the slow, beaten, logical voice in his head. If they were dead they would not be here.

He relaxed. Slightly.

Well, dammit, he wasn't going to lie here and wait. She'd asked him where he was; she can't find him. Why the bloody hell couldn't he have responded?

Nevermind it; it's not as if he knew where he was. Hades' prison and hellish office were all Killian's seen of the Underworld. He had no idea how to have directed Emma here.

Emma was here.

He found himself smiling, despite himself.

He missed her so damn much.

The need to see her, to hold her, to kiss her even just one last time fueled him with as much reserve energy his body could muster. And as much as he tried not feel it so desperately, the idea of being freed from Hades' onslaught was nearly blinding. Dammit, he hurt. The idea of having to face Hades again terrified him more than he wanted to admit, even to himself. Captain Hook did not get scared.

But it seemed that Killian Jones did.

Emma really is a savior.

He needed to find her. Now.

Slowly, cautiously, Killian moved to lift himself off the floor.

He hadn't moved since he'd been dumped here by Hades' minions, so Killian hadn't had the pleasure of moving with his most recent injuries yet.

He screamed.

Clenching his teeth to morph the scream into a groan, Killian forced himself upright, using the wall for support, breathing heavily and leaning only on his right leg. The process was haltingly slow, and he nearly collapsed back to the ground more than once.

Finally upright, his vision blurred for a terrifying second, and he could only see through one damn eye as it was. But it cleared a bit as he leaned on the wall, resting for a second so the dizzy feeling passed. He turned, ready to fight the cell bars with all he had, but froze.

The bars were gone.

The opening of the cell stood open.

Killian stared in disbelief.

Hades wouldn't have let him go. He'd said so in the last beating.

Nor would he be careless enough to leave the damn door open.

Was he that cocky that he thought Killian was going to stare helplessly at an open doorway?

"Is this some bloody trick?" Killian yelled into the emptiness.

Silence responded, his voice's echo fading away into it. Dammit, he wasn't falling for an illusion again. Killian clenched his jaw, staring at the seeming freedom, trying to decide whether or not to take the chance. Hades could have any sort of trick planned for him.

But one more thought of Emma, and Killian's mind was made up.

He moved to step where the cell bars used to be.

"Stop!"

Killian jerked, startled at the sudden voice. He stumbled, but caught himself roughly on the wall, groaning as it ignited pain through his whole system. He looked sharply in the direction of the voice, terrified it was another guard to bring him back to Hades' chambers.

But it wasn't a guard; it was another prisoner.

Killian allowed himself a second of relief that he wasn't about to be dragged back into hell. Yet.

A young girl was sitting in a cell across from his. Just like his cell, hers had no bars as well. Killian suddenly wondered if she'd been here since he'd arrived or if she'd just gotten here recently. And how does such a young lass end up in the Underworld?

Shaking off the questions, Killian ground out through his raw throat, "What?"

"That's exactly what it is," she said, staring at the wall ahead of her, curled in on herself. "A trick. Don't move." Something haunted passed through her eyes, sending a chill down Killian's spine. "He wants you to think you can escape, but you can't." Her eyes fell from his, staring straight ahead into her own kind of a hell. "No one can," she whispered.

"Aye," said Killian, ignoring the fear her words ignited in him. "We'll see about that." He stepped forward, moving down one of the cement steps, but the simple feat sent agony ricocheting through every injury in his body, nearly making him collapse to the ground again.

"Don't."

Her voice was stronger this time, startling him again. He let a growl slip through his teeth, releasing pain and frustration.

"He'll hunt you down," the girl warned him hollowly.

Killian looked at her, bracing himself against the wall, hating how much he needed it to avoid collapsing to the ground. "Hades…" Gods, one word has him breathless. He took a sharp breath, wincing as it scraped broken ribs and a throat hoarse from screams. "…has already done his worst to me," he finished, shutting the eye that hadn't swollen for a brief second as the world went fuzzy again. He blinked fast, holding onto the wall for purchase. Gods, falling would bloody hurt.

"I don't mean Hades," the lass said, still staring at the wall before her, pulling her knees closer to her chest.

The chill that ran across his skin at the way she said it made him swallow. Hard. "Who, then?" he asked, knowing fairly well that he wasn't going to like the answer.

She opened her mouth to reply, then visibly shuddered. She quickly shook her head, pulling her knees closer to her chest. "No." He could see the tremors wrack her body. "Just don't."

"Look!" exploded Killian, damning his fear all to hell. "This isn't my first cell," he said heavily. "I don't just sit around and rot. Now, somebody's come down here to save me. And I need to make her job easier." He found his breath growing shallow again, and he blinked away the blackness dancing around his vision. He leaned heavily against the wall, praying not to pass out.

The lass looked at him, then, something shining in her eyes. "How do you know she's here?"

"She got me a message," he whispered, easing the blackness back with another breath.

"How do you know that wasn't one of Hades' tricks?"

Gods…

Killian felt another shiver through his spine, not even having thought of that.

He refused to believe it.

He'd felt her, dammit.

"Because I know!" he ground out. "When you love someone… you know." She didn't say anything, and at the moment, Killian didn't care if she believed him. Instead, feeling that fear at the edge of his mind, he asked, "What's keeping us here?"

If possible, more color left the girl's pale face. "Something you don't want to face."

Bloody cryptic lass, he found himself thinking angrily. "Well, I'll be the judge of that."

Without preparing for it, he stepped down another step, pain shooting up his ankle, his knee, igniting in his ribs and making him groan through his teeth, holding onto the wall for dear afterlife. Knowing taking his time wasn't going to help with the pain, Killian steeled himself as much as he could, and stepped down to the floor, panting, suddenly even more terrified because he only moved five bloody steps, and if this… this thing the girl was so terrified of was worse than Hades…

He knew he was screwed.

He knew he had little to zero chance of outrunning what stood in their way, let alone defeating it.

Hades had made sure of that, and it only made his anger fuel even hotter in his chest.

In the span of seconds, Killian's made up his mind.

He slowly pushed off the wall, swaying as he stood up on his own, desperately hoping he could hold his own weight. He took a step forward that was no more than a pathetic limp, his right ankle a fire all on its own, nearly unable to hold any weight at all. Teeth clenched so hard they were sure to break, Killian groaned, holding his hand to his ribs as he took a step toward the girl.

Hell, he's never felt weaker in his life.

Or in his death.

"Are you mad?!" she breathed, watching him with wide eyes.

He smiled a smile that was broken in so many ways, and he whispered breathlessly, "Perhaps." But he extended his bloody hand to her, the simple act of lifting his arm making him wince. She stared at him in shock, and he guessed that he seemed like the last person to offer someone else physical assistance. Always the gentleman, he found himself musing his own words. "But I'm the best chance you have." When she still only stared at his hand, fear and shock and indecision in her face, and gestured again with his hand, weakly conveying his urgency. "Come on," he breathed, his voice lost somewhere in the knives that had replaced his lungs.

She hesitated, looking out in the hallway past him, and when it remained silent, she nervously took his hand. Bless the lass, she didn't pull on his grip, for if he was being honest with himself, he couldn't have helped up a newborn babe in this state.

She let go of him the moment she was on her feet, and he swayed, hand coming back to his burning ribs. She stared at him for a moment, her eyes raking over him, attention he was so very used to, but not in this way. He could see fear deepen in her eyes as she looked from gash to bruise to dripping blood.

"You ready?" he whispered, pulling her gaze back to his face. She nodded quickly, and Killian pushed her gently ahead of him away from where he's usually dragged to Hades' torture chamber. They've never gone left before, so there must be a reason.

She ran ahead of him and he followed, his body unable to keep up with his mind's urgency, and he staggered after her, his pace slow. Too slow. He growled, half in frustration, half in bloody agony.

The moment they made it to the next hallway, a roar shook the ground, knocking the girl off her feet, but she sprang right back up. She backed up toward him, and Killian felt the fear he'd felt at her earlier words sink into his skin, for a moment paralyzing him to the spot.

"I told you we'll never make it!" she cried in panic.

Killian nodded grimly, saying, "We won't, but you will." Her eyes grew wide at the notion of what he was suggesting. He tried not to think of it. "I'll draw the hell beast away," he said heavily, "you, run." She nodded fiercely. Good lass. The last thing he needed was her to attempt to stay behind to help him. "And once you're free, find Emma Swan," he said firmly, each syllable of her name firm and slow, ensuring the girl remembered. The ground shook with another roar, making every broken bone grate against each other, and Killian grimaced, quickly saying, "I'm Captain Killian Jones. Captain Hook. Tell her to find me!" She was still staring at him, torn between fear and panic. "Go!"

Another—closer—roar shook the hall, and Killian watched her run like a bat out of—he'll never escape the puns—and he suddenly paid mind to the panic in his own system. Because even though he had a messenger now, with a fairly good chance of getting that message to Emma, he didn't exactly want to find out why the girl was so terrified of the beast the roar belonged to. Nor did he want to face the wrath of Hades if he were to fail to defeat whatever monster the roar belonged to.

And then, from the end of the hallway, he saw it.

Red eyes lit the darkness.

Three pairs of red eyes.

The beast crawled out of the depths, and Killian stood paralyzed.

It looked like some sort of three-headed canine. It was more than three times his size, each paw far bigger and heavier than his own head, and its muscles threatened pain.

Killian froze as the thing glared at him with three sets of eyes.

Then, he ran, back in the direction from which he came, attempting to lead it away from the girl.

The floor thundered beneath him like the waves of a sea storm. He was barely two steps away when something heavy and sharp struck him in the back, throwing him forward with the force of one of Storybrooke's infernal driving machines.

Killian landed hard on his chest, crying out as already-broken bones shattered on impact, and the momentum skidded him like a pebble across water. His back hit a wall hard, the pain exploding, making his vision go black around the edges.

Before he could do anything, a giant paw struck him once again in the chest, claws digging into his skin, one digging deep into his shoulder. Killian cried out, feeling hot blood stream down his chest and side.

The beast growled at him, hot breath stinging his eyes, pinning him to the wall.

Please, gods, tell me the lass made it out safely, he found himself begging.

Killian Jones hasn't begged since Liam was taken from him.

The black around his eyes was growing, and with dread Killian quickly realized he couldn't draw in air. The damn thing was suffocating him.

"She got away."

"Lord Hades won't be pleased."

"At least it managed to stop one of them..."

The set of voices drifted in from somewhere beyond the pain.

Killian writhed under the beast's hold, desperately trying to draw in air, the claws sinking deeper into his shoulder opening his mouth in a silent scream.

Suddenly the pressure lifted, and the paw was removed from his chest. He gasped in air, a strangled cry ripped from him as the claws tore out of him, and Killian collapsed to the floor.

Pain.

Killian could no longer feel anything except pain. Broken bones had just broken into smaller pieces. Blood was dripping down his chest and back. His shoulder felt like it had been ripped off.

He knew he was still screaming.

He couldn't bloody help it.

Hot blood seeped into his clothes, down his neck and chest, body throbbing with an intensity that made his vision darken.

He felt himself being lifted carelessly and agony lit up everywhere.

As he slipped mercifully into the darkness of unconsciousness, he prayed to every god in the realms that the young lass made it.