A/N: This has moved from my drabble collection Emma and Killian (whoever we may be) because I actually ended up with quite a few chapters for it, so it earns a place of it's own. I'll pop them up as I finish editing each one. They're not terribly long, but together they weave a little bit of something I enjoy.


The ship groaned and bellowed like a fallen beast, her bones creaking and bending as she fell through the portal into dark waters, the unnatural storm that had accompanied their arrival dissipating as quickly as it had been birthed.

Fog split around the prow as the tide carried the Jolly Roger closer to shore, the soft wind picking at her sails mournfully. The crew scurried beneath the shrewd eye of their captain as they prepared to moor, their calls echoing hauntingly before the mountainous, green slopes of an island that slowly emerged from the mists.

The skies above were grey and silent of bird calls as the captain tread the deck, spyglass trained on the valleys of dark jungle and the white stretch of sandy shore awaiting them.

It wasn't until the terrified call from one of the crew sounded that the spyglass shifted, focusing instead on the black waters half cloaked in fog around the ship itself.

"Man overboard!" echoed the cry among the crew, and bare feet clambered to the stern of the ship as ropes were tossed into the sea, one of them landing heavily across the back of the man floating listlessly atop a scrap of wood.

Every soul aboard the Jolly Roger was silent as they waited, and hope seemed all but lost until the weight of the rope finally stirred the still figure. With shaking hands, the man clung to the frayed end, barely able to hold on as the crew heaved him through the sea and aboard the ship.

The Captain's boots thudded softly against the damp planks, stopping just shy of the quivering pile that was what remained of a human being – all but the most stubborn flicker of life drained from its exhausted shell. The crew held its breath as the man gasped and heaved, seemingly shocked to find a sturdy surface beneath his body. He shook and swept water-blackened locks of hair from his pale face as he looked up, meeting the eyes of his savior.

"On your feet for the Captain," growled one of the crew, nudging the drowned man none to gently, but he'd seen the look in the stranger's eyes on many a man's face before, and perhaps there was some deep-seated envy within him that prompted his roughness.

But a swift motion of the Captain's hand stayed any further cruelty, and she knelt slowly, the heavy leather of her greatcoat sweeping the deck as she brought herself level with the man still fighting to catch his breath aboard her ship – emerald green eyes meeting the cold bite of blue.

"I can't thank you enough for your kindness," the man rasped, his voice raw and gravely from the salt of the sea. "I owe you my life..."

"Well, it's always nice to make an impression," the Captain smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes, "but where are my manners? We haven't been introduced – Captain Swan. Now, tell me, who are you, and what are you doing half-drowned in the Neverland Sea?"

The man smiled weakly, seeming almost ashamed as he answered.

"I'm nothing more than a simple naval lieutenant. We strayed into these waters and our ship was set upon by mermaids. They slaughtered everyone. I don't even know how I managed to survive. I can only assume they already thought me dead..."

"I'm going to let you in on a little secret – I'm pretty good at knowing when someone is lying to me," the Captain mused, her blonde curls falling over her shoulder as she leaned forward, closing the space between them.

It was then that the man's eyes left hers, tracking the glint of cold steel that extended from her wrist where a hand should have been, its curved edge frigid and lethal as she tucked it beneath his chin, angling his face toward hers.

"Now, are you going to tell me the truth, or do I need to gut you and toss what's left back in to sate the appetites of whatever else lies in these waters?"

The man's eyes shifted back to hers, but where the Captain expected to see fear, there was nothing but barely restrained mirth, his lips splitting into a wide, almost menacing grin.

"Good for you, you bested me," he crowed, his entire demeanor changing as he shifted into a more comfortable, almost mischievous position, opposite the captain, every shred of the grateful, stammering victim falling away as he tilted his head and sat on his haunches, studying her.

"Who are you?" she growled, keeping her hook neatly in place beneath his sharp, stubbled jawline – though from the way he turned his head in amusement, following her gaze, it seemed to be of little bother to him.

"Killian Jones, but most people who come here have taken to calling me by my more colorful moniker – " He grinned wickedly, blue eyes sparkling with something feral as he licked his lips and eyed her hungrily " – Pan."