Chapter 6 - Teaming Up.

"Rise and shine!"

It's her mother's cheerful chime that pulled her out of her sleep, making her head ring and worsened the alcohol-induced headache that threatened to ruin her morning already.

A slight complaint left Emma's lips as she rolled around slightly, burying her face into the pillow. She'd meant to say something along the lines of five more minutes, but it'd turned out as nothing but groggy, mumbling nonsense.

"Emma, you've slept enough—"

"Mom," Emma moaned against the pillow, desperately trying to ignore the sounds of her mom rushing up and down her room.

"Come on — come on, up we go." She heard Snow's command as she felt soft hands locking with her own, pulling her up from the bed. "No time to waste."

It felt like the entirety of her day went by just the same — with her mother pulling and dragging her all around the castle, and with herself trying to fight one hell of a headache.

The hours of her day rush by; sending the final invitations for her ball, and making lists of the plates and desserts she wished to have served that night, and the musical pieces she wished to be played and danced to that evening.

Snow, as usual, was the one taking the reins of everything that had to do with the upcoming ball. It constantly brought a smile to Emma's face, watching the queen babble on about how lovely the evening would be, and how they had to make sure everything turned out just about perfect. It was good seeing her mother so excited about something — it made it worth it.

The excitement Emma lacked, Snow made up for it; which was actually perfect.

The ball, after all, wasn't anywhere near being at the top of her concerns. Yet still, it was all she had time to think of that day; at least until late in the evening, with her occupations for the day finished and the sun already down.

It's only a bubble bath later when she finally had some time to close her eyes and rest her head against the mattress, that her thoughts drifted off someplace else.

Of course, they headed right away to the previous night.

The drinking and the joking around, and him. The things he'd spoken of.

It'd been a nice evening. One of the most fun she'd ever had, certainly — even despite the circumstances in which it ended.

With him shutting her out, and her storming out of the pub in annoyance.

And yet still, she was already pondering on the idea of when to meet up with him again. She wanted to see him, talk to him; try to dig into him a bit deeper, understand a bit better. He had somehow become her very own piece of research, and she wasn't going to back away until she placed all the pieces together.

Maybe she could sneak out to the town tomorrow, if only she managed to break free from her mother's schedule.

Geez, in what moment had her life become a constant wait, of her looking forward to the next time she left the castle's walls to meet him?

Emma's hands rubbed over her face to snap herself out of it; and she shifted her position, leaning over the edge of the bed and reaching out her arms to grab the couple of books she'd hidden under it a couple of nights ago.

She hoped it would help her clear her mind.

Emma laid on her stomach as she opened the first book, Contemporary History of the Enchanted Forest, and began flicking through the pages.

It wasn't the first time she'd ever read it, which made it easier to go through it; skipping through the parts she was sure had nothing to do with what she was looking for.

The name Rumplestiltskin, however, was written over the pages about a thousand times. A chill ran down her spine at the realization that the dark sorcerer was nearly about everywhere, a dark puppeteer pulling the strings on all of the known stories of the land.

She didn't need to reach the end of the book to conclude that she wouldn't find anything more than what she already knew — he was a twisted, powerful man, and definitely not a person Emma would ever want to cross paths with.

Not that she even had the chance of reaching the end of it, as she found herself waking up the next morning with a sore cheek, having found sleep right over the pages of the thick book.

Her reading only continued on many hours later, after many ups-and-downs throughout the castle, getting through all those never-ending preparations.

The night had once again set low, and under the candlelights of her room, Emma went through more pages - face rested on the palm of her hand as she fought against exhaustion.

The book was Tales of Most Ancient Magics, and Emma found it filled with illustrations and in-depth descriptions of magical items and powers, that supposedly dated back to the beginnings of time itself, according to the book.

Emma quickly ran through the pages, not caring much about the tales of fairies and magical plants and cursed items that filled about the first half of the book; and she was about to call it a day when two words made her jump in her place — snapping her out of any exhaustion she might be feeling.

Dark One.

Her fingers traced over the large illustration of a dagger, that covered an entire page of the book, and then she started reading:

The infamous dark one's curse, perhaps the most coveted yet at the same time feared magic of all. There is no known information about its beginnings, though it is believed darkness itself was born out of this curse, to then be spread throughout the world.

While the powers the curse brings to its bearer would be envied by most, unmeasurable knowledge in all types of dark magic and immortality, the curse can prove to be like a disease, spreading around and eating away all the light from the person at a considerable speed. The dark one's powers are often used for misdeeds as the person becomes filled with darkness, and even maddened with power.

The dark one's life is eternal, as it becomes tethered to its dagger, and it's only by the hand of said dagger that a dark one may die. In that case, the person to commit the murder shall have the powers transferred to them; hence, making them the next dark one.

Emma flicked the page, finding it continued speaking of the dark one's curse through the next couple of pages; still, she remained on that first page, sinking feeling in her stomach as she reread the first few paragraphs a couple more times.

"'It's only by the hand of their dagger that a dark one may die," Emma read under her breath. "In that case, the person to commit the murder shall have the powers transferred to them; hence…'"

The last sentence got caught up in her throat, as she finally made sense of it. The idea suddenly nauseated her, and she forcefully closed the book; loudly throwing it back down under her bed. Whatever else that book might say, she didn't want to read it.

Emma hugged her own legs, feeling her heart suddenly sink into her stomach.

So, that was it, huh? Things could only end in two ways: with death or becoming the next host of the dark one's curse — and Emma actually couldn't decide which one was worse.

Did he even realize he had set himself on such path of self-destruction?

How could somebody be willing to accept those consequences - out of what? Hatred, heartbreak?

Become the person he hated most, just for the sake of avenging a long-lost true love. She wasn't sure if it was a case of hopeless romance or just downright stupidity. Probably the latter.

When had she started to care so much, anyway?

With a deep sigh, she realized she shouldn't.

She had been diving into some sort of fantasy, pretending she could be someone else — pretending she could belong to his world, ignoring all the warning signs and alarms that were screaming for her to get away since the moment she'd met him.

She was a princess, and dealing with this – whatever this might be – wouldn't ever be part of the many duties her life carried.

She had enough concerns in her life to ever lose sleep over this… acquaintance.

And yet, despite her exhaustion, sleep didn't come to her until many hours later.

If there was something she had to thank this ball and her mother, was that they both kept Emma's thoughts preoccupied throughout the days. She was often too busy helping decorate the ballroom, take care of any little details that were yet to be taken care of.

She found herself not having enough time to think about anything that could've been troubling her mind, and she preferred it to be that way.

If she didn't think about it she could pretend it never happened, right?

She could still be princess Emma, living one day at a time, unaware of the excitements real life could offer her if she only dared step out her gates.

But she was very aware now of what really was waiting for her out there, and that was a feeling she was never able to shake even throughout the days.

A feeling like she had somewhere else to be.

"It's turning out beautiful," Emma sighed, watching her own figure in the mirror, as some final adjustments were being made to her dress. It pressed up tightly to her upper body, showing off her curves and leaving her shoulders bare, to then fall down widely on her legs — in layers and layers of beautiful red fabric.

"You look so lovely, my dear," Snow seemed like she couldn't keep still from all her excitement. Emma even feared she might burst into happy tears any moment now. "I doubt anyone will be able to keep their eyes off you that night."

Emma snorted. "Says the fairest woman in all the lands."

Snow rolled her eyes, walking up to stand beside her, in front of the mirror. "Maybe once — but I have wrinkles now, honey."

"And they make you even prettier," Emma responded, giving her mother a warm smile.

"Hush now," Snow waved it off, despite the slight rosy tint of her cheeks. "How will you wear your hair?"

Emma slightly moved her head around, watching the wild, blonde strands of hair falling onto her shoulders. "Hm, I'm not sure," she mumbled.

"How about…" Snow began, hands going up to wrap around her hair. She held it up above her hair, twisting the thick hairs around into a bun.

Both mother and daughter shared knowing looks through the mirror.

"Perfect… Oh!" Emma exclaimed, turning around to face her mother as soon as she released her hair back into her shoulders. "I have an idea. Remember those ribbons Granny gave me a couple of years ago — the really pretty ones? I think the color matches the dress perfectly. I could use them."

Lifting the dress just the slightest, Emma moved away from the mirror, ready to head upstairs and look for the ribbons up in her room.

"Emma." She heard Snow's reprimanding sigh from behind herself. "Don't you dare get that dress dirty already!"

So, upon her mother's insistence, she stripped out of the gown and back into one of her everyday dresses. Emma made her way up to her tower, shutting the door behind herself before kneeling in front of the chest she kept by the foot of her bed.

She lifted the lid with a small grunt at how heavy it was and soon enough began moving the stuff around, in hopes of finding the small silky ribbons without having to make a mess.

She gave up on her attempt on not making a mess fairly quickly, and she began taking thing after thing out of the chest; placing them carefully down on the floor as she emptied its contents. Little trinkets and treasures she'd gathered over the years, objects most wouldn't find to be of much value — but they were memories to her.

It was after setting aside a couple of porcelain dolls that Emma's hands stumbled upon a stack of letters, about a couple of dozens of neatly folded parchments.

The beautiful cursive letter could belong to no other than Belle, and she smiled briefly as she went through the papers — the earliest date being December from two years ago. From then on, there was a letter for each month of the year, no exception.

The last one was dated August 5th.

My dear friend,

How's your family? How are you? I truly hope everything is well.

I miss everyone so much - my father I miss the most. But it doesn't pain me as much as before. Lately, things have been… strangely normal. Perhaps I've grown used to this, but I no longer feel like a fish out of water here. Rumplestiltskin… I've stopped seeing him as a beast now. Everything is complicated around him, but I'm starting to believe it's not all as awful as I once believed it to be.

It's so hard to explain over here, but even if you do not comprehend, be happy for me that for the first time in the past couple of years I feel things are headed the right way for me.

You'll be hearing from me soon. I'm sure we'll get to speak in person sooner than we think, just be patient.

Until then, all my love,

Belle.

Emma checked the entire stack a second time; certain this one was the last bit of news she'd gotten for her — yet still wanting to make sure she hadn't by any chance missed anything. But no, this was the final one; dating from a little more than two months ago.

It was the first time in two years she'd spent so long without writing.

Emma read the letter once again, and yet one more time.

I'm sure we'll get to speak in person sooner than we think…

She'd thought nothing of it the time she'd gotten that letter, but now… Killian had told her those days ago, Belle had been seen around the town — in Emma's lands.

Had that been what Belle had tried to tell her in that letter? That she was planning to escape?

If Belle had really escaped— if she was really out there, why say nothing? Why not come home to her family?

You'll be hearing from me soon.

Emma folded the letter, pressing it to her chest as she sighed deeply. She had a really, really bad feeling about all of this.

And she knew she had to do something about it, somehow.

She'd made up her mind.

Would she eventually regret it? Probably. But she was sure she'd regret more turning a blind eye on it all, never knowing what would've happened if she only tried.

The docks were her best shot. She'd managed to get on her mother's good side, making sure their tasks were all done before noon came; a perfect time for her to go on a ride to the town. And, Emma guessed, while the pirate did appear to have a drinking problem — she doubted he spent his entire days alone by the bar, drowning himself in rum.

"Killian?" Emma called out as she carefully stepped into the Jolly Roger's deck. She felt somewhat like an intruder, showing up at his ship unannounced after days of silence. She wasn't sure if he'd want to speak with her - especially after their last reunion had ended in such tense terms.

She wasn't even sure he was there as she looked around the nearly empty deck — nearly, as in there was just one other soul besides herself in it. The bright red beanie made him hard to miss; he was round and short, humming a cheerful tune as he moped around the floor. She easily guessed he was part of Killian's crew.

"Excuse me," she called, taking a few short steps towards him. She saw the man jump slightly, eyes shooting up to her figure. "Do you know where Hook might be?"

The man was quick to stop his task and accommodated the beanie over his head nervously. "He's below deck, ma'am — captain doesn't really like to be bothered. D'you wish to leave him a message?"

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Message? If she wanted to leave a message, she would've sent a bird.

"No need," Emma shook her head in response, giving him a polite smile. Her head went to a side as she spotted the small hatch that led below deck, and she pointed in that direction. "Over there, right?"

She didn't wait for the response before heading that way. Nearly immediately, she heard small rushed steps behind her.

"I'm not sure if you—"

"I can handle the captain all by myself, sir," Emma responded amusedly, holding back a smile as she made her way to the other side of the deck. She sensed a glint of nervousness and worry beneath his voice, and Emma wondered if the captain perhaps was a tad harsher to his crew than he would ever be with her.

Before she even made it there, Emma stopped dead in her tracks –making the shorter man nearly bump into her– as the hatch opened a few feet away from her, watching as Killian appeared from below deck, climbing up the small ladder.

Killian halted for a moment as he noticed her presence, flashing her a grin.

"Swan — what the bloody hell are you doing here?"

There was a cheerfulness to his voice, one that reached all the way up to his eyes, and for some reason it made her feel relieved — like the past days without seeing him had brought a weight upon her shoulders she'd only noticed now, and a deep breath escaped her lips.

"I wanted to speak with you," Emma simply answered.

"Okay," Killian mumbled, shutting the hatch closed behind himself, and meeting her eyes. "What—"

Emma snorted, in the attempt of holding back a laugh. "Alone," she mouthed, and immediately saw his blue eyes shift to a couple of feet behind her, a frown reaching his face as he looked like he just now had noticed the shorter man's presence.

Killian cleared his throat. Upon receiving no response, he spoke, tone strident and filled with annoyance, "Smee."

The man, Smee, jumped himself straight upon hearing his name. "Yes, sir?"

"Off you go. Now," he barked, a clear order. He dripped authority, she noticed with slight admiration and pitied the men who had to live under his barking and bossing around. She doubted many of them would be eager to defy any orders that came from the captain.

Certainly, Smee didn't — as in no time he was taking a few steps backward and turning around, nearly tripping over his own feet. "Yes, sir!"

Emma's eyes followed his short figure as he made his way out of the ship, a low chuckle escaping her lips as she turned to look at Killian. "He seems nice."

"He's a good man — a pain in the ass a lot of times, though," Killian grunted, scratching the back of his ear. His expression was quickly softened as he looked at her. "What's going on, Swan? I was starting to think you were—"

Upset, she guessed he'd say that. Despite the teasing tone to his voice, Emma believed to sense something buried within it — relief, and perhaps a glint of insecurity. After all, their previous meeting hadn't ended under… normal circumstances. He'd opened up to her for the first time that night, and surely, he'd noticed her leaving upset over the fact that he shut her out right away. That'd been days ago, passed by without either of them hearing anything from the other.

And, in reality, he wouldn't be wrong about that — she was upset, after all. Angry that she'd just started to know him better, looked underneath that cocky pirate act and come to realize she actually liked what she had found; all to later find he'd give it all away just to achieve his revenge.

But that was something she didn't want to admit to him.

"I was fine," Emma cut him off quickly, correcting him. "I had a lot in my mind. You know, princess stuff — I've been getting things ready for the ball and…"

She rambled about her excuses –none of them were actually lies–, and found herself glad one of them had piqued his interest.

"You're having a ball?"

"I thought you would've known by now," Emma shrugged it off. "This town goes crazy over my so-called birthday balls."

"Will I receive an invitation, your highness?" he teased her, raising his eyebrows at her briefly.

Emma snorted, as she wondered what her parents' reactions might be if they noticed a one-handed pirate going around at their ball.

"I didn't know Captain Hook enjoyed dancing," Emma teased back at him, and Killian's smirk widened.

"It depends."

"On?" she wondered, giving him a curious look.

"Whether or not I have the right partner." He raised his eyebrows at her, giving her that flirtatious look of his she hated to admit she profoundly missed that past couple of days; and she had to quickly remind herself she hadn't broken her will to stay away from him only for them to continue playing their usual flirty game of cat and mouse.

"I need to tell you something," Emma stated abruptly, making him replace his flirty look with one of surprise and curiosity.

"Go ahead, love."

Emma breathed in deeply, wondering where to start. "Remember… days ago, you told me you were looking for someone," she began carefully. "A woman - a princess named Belle. You said she was seen here, in my lands."

"Aye - I heard word that she was staying at the local pub," he affirmed, clearly unsure of where the conversation was about to head towards.

"I didn't tell you then, because it didn't make sense for Swan to know a princess," she explained. "But you know me now, so I can tell you - I know who you're looking for."

His eyebrows raised with surprise for a moment. He folded his arms over his chest, seeming thoughtful. After a brief moment of silence, he spoke, "Makes sense. You're both princesses—"

"It's more than us just being that," Emma clarified. "We are friends, good friends. At least we were until Rumplestiltskin took her - which is why it is completely bonkers the idea that she could've been around here."

Emma grabbed the small satchel that hung by her hip, opening it and pulling out the neatly folded letter from it.

"However... She's been sending me letters for the past few years, every single month. This was the last letter she sent me," she continued explaining as she carefully unfolded the paper. A pinkish tint showed on her cheeks as she was about to show him words that were written just for her, and she hoped Belle wouldn't mind she was allowing someone else to intrude on their private words. "I hadn't paid attention to it before, but now I see it's been over two months since she stopped writing. And what you told me about seeing her around here..."

Emma handed him the small letter and waited for a few moments in silence as he read the words written over the paper. Once his eyes went back up to lock with hers, still unclear of what she was trying to show him, Emma continued speaking:

"She told me she might see me in person sooner than we believed, and if what you said is truthful then — it makes me think she did escape, somehow," she told him. "But it deeply concerns me there's no word or trace of her. If she came so close by, she would've come to me. She knows we would've taken good care of her, granted her protection, and even safe passage to head back to her kingdom. Still, she's—"

"She's been out here, not saying a word," Killian concluded, brows furrowing deeply as he held onto the letter for a couple of moments, before handing it back to her.

"Yes," she nodded, placing the piece of paper back into her satchel. "She's been roaming around the town, and then disappearing without a trace… It makes me think something is not right."

"You think something happened," Killian guessed.

"Or she's in danger - escaping from one of the most powerful beings in all lands, it's probably going to grant her some trouble," Emma said, trying to make sense of her words. "Perhaps that's why she hasn't come to any of us, nor her family... she wants to keep everyone away from the trouble?"

Killian seemed to be absorbed in his own thoughts for a moment, before raising a suspicious eyebrow at her. "Why tell me all this, lass?" he carefully inquired.

It was a good question. Why had she come here, meeting up with the man she'd spent the last days convincing herself she was best away from, was still something unbeknownst to her.

All she knew was that her friend was lost, and she had to do something about it. And despite her constant wish to prove she could do and be more than what people had always thought her to be, she knew this was something she couldn't do on her own. She needed his help — and hopefully, he'd need hers too.

And while she was certain that he surely meant trouble for her, she couldn't deny that they both had made a connection— ever since that fateful moment where she stole that satchel of his.

"I need to know what's going on with her. I can't stand and watch while I know she might be out there, in trouble. I don't…" Emma hesitated for a moment, inhaling deeply. "I don't want anything to do with your foolish quest for revenge; but right now, we both want the same thing — to find Belle. So… I'll do whatever I can to help find my friend."

"You'll help?" Killian asked, shock quite present in his features, and at Emma's decided nod in response the beginning of a smirk curved up the corners of his mouth. "Then, I'm sure we'll make quite the team, love."

Emma's presence on his ship that day had been a surprise; a pleasant one, of course — and quite unexpected.

A part of him, actually, hadn't expected her to ever show up again at all.

He remembered the last night they'd shared. She was so pretty, with her cheeks flushed from the alcohol, sharing her thoughts and stories — she'd turned out to be so much more than he'd originally thought, and he'd cherished every moment of the hours they'd shared.

And then she'd asked about Milah, and while that was a story he had always kept to himself - this time with her he felt like he could share it. He allowed her to dive deep into his past, so effortlessly it scared him — she'd looked at him with such understanding, grabbed his hand like she cared.

She had pulled herself too close to him, and he'd been scared by how badly he wanted her close. So, he pushed her out.

He hadn't failed to see the hurt buried beneath her eyes as he pulled from her, pretended that the small moment of proximity hadn't occurred. He'd watched her leave, and relief filled him.

It was easier to ignore his feelings when she wasn't around.

Still, that didn't keep him from spending his next night by the bar — secretly hoping she'd appear. And the next, and the next. She never showed, of course.

He'd already started to think maybe he'd pushed her out too far, and she'd decided to not walk back in anymore.

But then she'd walked into his ship, and seeing her was like lifting off a weight he hadn't realized he had been carrying all those days without her.

And of course, the reason for her visit was something he wasn't expecting — though, in reality, Killian was by this point sure Emma wouldn't ever cease to surprise him.

That's why he didn't think much of it when Emma suddenly looked at him decidedly, asking him if he had any maps of the Enchanted Forest in his ship. It'd provoked a curiosity-filled eyebrow raise and a snort ('I'm a bloody pirate, Swan — what kind of question is that?') as a reply, before leading her down to his quarters.

The lass asked for a quill and some ink too, and he obliged; setting them all on his desk.

Killian watched her, taking a step back and sitting with his arms folded, curiosity and amusement on his face as Emma seemed to comfortably go around his room like it was her own.

Pinning the map to one of the walls, she stood in front of it; feathers of the quill caught between her lips.

"Okay — where was Belle first seen?"

She spent the next few moments making smooth black lines throughout the map, stopping now and then to make comments or ask questions; to which he was always quick to respond — questions like for how long he had been behind Belle's trail, and what places he knew she'd been seen in.

With every response, Emma made new lines and circled new towns, taking some moments to scribble down the more important details they could remember alongside the lines.

Truth is, he wasn't as focused on the task as he was on admiring her. It'd happened since perhaps even the first time he'd seen her, with those lovely green eyes of hers and fiery personality — she made him forget about who he is and what he's supposed to be doing and instead made him just stare.

Killian grinned, standing up from his seat by the time Emma finally took a step back, eyeing her work carefully. "Brilliant, love."

Emma gave him a shy smile in response. She pointed at her kingdom, which was currently circled as the last location they knew Belle had been to. "Now, all we need is to figure out where she went next. Easy, right?"

"Been trying to do that for weeks now, lass," he grunted.

Emma nodded, chewing on her lower lip as she placed her focus back into the map. "I doubt she headed back home," she thought out loud. "It's a long trip from here to her kingdom, and if she's just escaped from Rumplestiltskin I don't think she has the energy, nor the means to make such trip."

"Still, if by any chance she's managed to be heading there, the Jolly will easily catch up to her."

"Can she really?" Emma raised an eyebrow at him.

Killian smirked. "I've already told you, love, she's the fastest."

Emma seemed unconvinced, a slight smirk on her face. "You say that just because she's your ship."

"Don't underestimate her," Killian said, slightly offended. "I'll take you sailing with me someday, and you'll see for yourself."

He wasn't sure where that idea had come from. Maybe because it felt tempting in his head to be the one person to take her out onto the world like he was sure she'd always dreamt of; be the one to watch her face as she discovered for the first time how broad and thrilling the sea could be.

He'd said it like it was a certain thing; when in reality, it was hard imagining that someday ever coming to be. Maybe by the time he was done with his revenge once and for all –if he even came to survive it–, he could return to her — take her to a pretty island someplace far off, if only she wanted him to.

But for now, their paths seemed to be as further away from each other's as they could be; they were just at a brief, sudden crossroad that would soon be over with.

The expression on Emma's face made him believe she was thinking the same thing. She looked away, and cleared her throat, thankfully changing the subject:

"So, you really think she's just headed home?"

Killian thought about it for a moment.

"I don't know — probably not," he shook his head, thoughtfully scratching his stubble. "It's a journey most sailors would ask a handful of gold to make, and it's no smart move to pay some stranger to take her, taking into consideration the fact that she's a very valuable woman. Not only she's a princess but she's also a person of interest to the Dark One."

"And I'm sure Rumplestiltskin isn't one to let somebody break a deal and just walk off," Emma concluded with a nod. "He has to be looking for her."

It made sense, didn't it? He doubted anyone had ever fooled the man and left unscathed. He'd be looking for her, that was sure — and being a man of such power, Killian doubted the missing princess would ever be safe, even if she'd managed to get miles away from Rumplestiltskin's lands.

It wasn't about just finding her; it was about finding her before he did.

"For all we know, he might've found her already — that'd explain why there hasn't been any word on her since she last showed up here weeks ago."

"Maybe she's hiding," Emma suggested in an attempt to stay hopeful, and then shook her head in defeat. "But speculating will lead us nowhere. If we want to know what happened, we need to talk to the last people we know saw her."

"Got that covered already," Killian responded quickly. "I was told she left the bar weeks ago with a group of men - I've made sure that if any of the men she left with step a foot into this town, I'll be the first one to know."

Emma raised an eyebrow at him, making him shrug.

"Nothing to be impressed of — a few golden coins can buy you about anything in this town," he wiggled his eyebrows. "I've got eyes and ears everywhere."

"Good," Emma gave him a sharp nod, before taking a few steps back; backing off until her legs met the foot of his bed, and she carefully sat down on it.

Turning his head to watch her, he curiously noticed the way she was now contemplating her surroundings — a spark of curiosity that mimicked his own. It seemed like after all the time they'd been down there, it was only now she was starting to be aware of where she was.

"So, this is your cabin," she wondered out loud, probably more to herself than to him.

Still, he nodded. "Aye."

Killian leaned against the wall, eyes following her every move as she got up on her feet –he chuckled under his breath as the swaying of the ship made her stumble slightly–, and began slowly looking around; fingers carefully grazing against the decorations as she seemed deep in her thoughts.

The thing that truly appeared to catch her eye was his bookstand, as she stopped right in front of it. Emma turned around to meet eyes with him, a small smile on her face. "You read?"

"Don't sound so surprised," Killian rolled his eyes in slight annoyance. "It's the only entertainment one can get while at sea."

It was true. There wasn't so much you could do during those long weeks of sailing, and losing oneself within a book was about the one thing to help remind you there really was a life outside the seemingly unending sea.

Most of the books there once belonged to his brother, being his favorites. Some, Killian had actually taken as favorites for himself as well; while some others, he'd never even picked up — remaining there, untouched since his brother's death. He'd left them to dust, never having the courage to pick them up and place them someplace else. He couldn't move them away when they belonged there, in his –and Liam's– cabin.

He watched Emma's lips move silently, as she closely examined the books' loins, reading the names delicately written in them.

A sudden snort broke the silence.

"Romeo and Juliet?" Emma read out loud, questioning expression on her face. "Captain Hook's a romantic now, huh?"

"I'm not," Killian snapped, a scowl on his face. He was — but Emma didn't really need to learn that about him. "A lot of these books were once my brother's."

"Whatever you say, Hook," she mocked him, pulling out said book from the shelf as she softly chuckled.

Her chuckles were quickly interrupted by coughs as she opened the book, a small cloud of dust flying up to her face.

It was Killian the one chuckling now. "Gotten choked up, your highness?" he mocked back at her.

"Urgh, so maybe they were his, after all" she groaned, closing the book and waving the dust off of her face.

Placing the book back inside and turning around, something seemed to shift within her expression as her eyes took one final journey throughout his cabin. "You said your brother was captain once," Emma stated, realization upon her face. "This used to be his cabin."

"A long time ago, yes," Killian nodded in response.

"Long as in…?," she trailed off.

"Centuries," he stated, and silence followed for a few brief seconds.

His brother wasn't something he really spoke about — most wouldn't ever learn he'd ever had a brother. Liam was a secret, along with Milah, he carried very close to himself; only his crew being the ones aware of the captain's many losses. Not because he wished to erase the memories of them; but because when people don't know you care, they can never guess you're hurt.

And the fewer people knew about how deeply his heart had been wounded before, the better.

And still, with Emma, the words seemed to slip out of his mouth oh-so-easily. Just one look into her big green eyes and he'd been mentioning his brother to her — and later spilling his guts out about Milah. She wasn't just unveiling all of his secrets; he was willingly giving them to her, and that freaked him out the most.

Any moment now, she'd be leaving him bare and exposed for the entire world to see.

"Killian?" her voice broke the silence, small and hesitant; like it scared her to voice out the question dancing on the tip of her tongue.

"Yes, love?"

"What was he like?"

He'd been expecting it, yet still, the question threw him aback for just a moment. He looked at her, eyes wide as he pondered on what to answer.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Emma added carefully.

And there she was, about to bring yet another secret out into the light — and still, he didn't mind.

Opening up to her was easy; maybe because in her eyes he saw wisdom beyond her years, and knew she would understand better than most.

He felt they'd been understanding each other since the moment he'd stolen that necklace of hers.

Killian slowly made his way to the bed, sitting by a corner as he wondered what the hell could he even begin with.

So, he never spoke of Liam; but still, he told her. Liam, his passionate and caring brother; who could be stern as a father, yet as playful and loving as any older brother could.

He told her how it was like sailing under his command — though it was more like sailing by his side, as never did he feel anything less than his equal.

He mentioned his death briefly –hoping she didn't notice it would still sting–; how the older Jones brother could be so infuriatingly stubborn it'd led him straight to his own death.

A man of honor always; as a young lad, Killian had wanted to be just like him. He wondered now, hundreds of years and uncountable misdeeds after his death, what would his brother think of him now. Would he be angry at him? Disappointed, maybe?

A very long time ago, he'd dreamt of being a man Liam would be proud of. Clearly, he'd drifted far — very far from that.

Emma was the one to break him away from his thoughts. "He sounds like a good man."

She still stood by the bookstand, small arms hugging her figure; as she seemed to be doubting whether to approach him - probably thinking that getting too close might mean driving him away, too.

He noticed a tint of sadness within the small smile she wore; and as Killian watched her, the thought popped into his head that his brother and she could've easily gotten along. Both stubborn and daring, yet compassionate and kind.

Killian patted the mattress right beside him, signaling her to come and sit by his side.

"Aye, love. He was."