Everything was white. Everything was buzzing. Someone was screaming.

Oh, wait that was him.

Killian sagged sideways, nearly toppling over and letting his head rest on Liam's seat as he tried to catch his breath. Tears stung his eyes and his cheeks, but he couldn't have bitten them back if he tried. It hurt, gods it hurt so much more than it had a few minutes ago. He didn't actually know a body part could hurt that much - and he'd lost a bloody hand, had the stump cauterized, and survived the resultant infection and fever.

He glared at his leg, sure that he'd rather the bloody Crocodile lop it off aga-

His leg was free.

Killian stared for longer than should have been necessary, not quite understanding that he'd been successful. He could feel the blood soaking his pants, could see the jagged end of the bone poking out. But he wasn't trapped any more, and that meant he could get to Liam.

Killian's ribs screamed nearly as loudly as his leg as he slithered backwards over the console, into Liam's seat with his leg propped up on his own seat. Gods, it looked a mess.

It was too much. Killian twisted, finally losing the contents of his stomach onto the ground just outside the car. More tears fell as he gagged and retched until there was nothing left.

Finally spent, Killian clutched at his ribs and rested his head on the steering wheel, breathing in shakily until the agony muted enough to concentrate again.

Liam.

There was nothing for it, he had to get to his brother. So he slid backwards until he could get his left foot into the wheelwell and used it to lever himself out of the car.

He hit his hands and knees, retching again into the snow and nearly collapsing forward into the last of his dinner.

Liam.

Killian bit back the nausea, shook his head to try and clear the stars, and crawled to his brother, heedless of the drops of blood he was leaving behind.

Liam's eyes were closed.

Killian wasn't sure why this surprised him, but it did. "Brother?" He didn't know why he expected a response, something about how Liam had always been there for him (until he wasn't) and how he'd clearly come back from the dead or from another realm or timeline or... had come back to him. For him.

"Brother, please," Killian begged, moving to turn Liam over slowly, carefully, gingerly enough not to exacerbate his injuries any further. He settled Liam's head in his lap, brushing back the damp curls and trying to rid his brother's cheeks of the snow. His skin was pink in some places and frighteningly pale in others, but he was breathing, soft puffs of air that Killian could see in the air above his mouth.

Another tear leaked down Killian's face and he dashed it away angrily, sniffling it back and trying to get hold of himself.

"Please, Brother, I need you," he begged, almost expecting his brother's eyes to open at the raw need in his plea. Liam had always… would always be there to help him.

The only thing that answered him was the wind.

Killian let himself wallow for a moment, but only a brief one, determined to save his brother and possibly himself. He couldn't do that if he was just sitting in the snow like a lost little boy who didn't matter to anyone and never would. (He'd seen enough of them in Neverland to last several lifetimes, thanking his stars every time that he'd had Liam growing up when no one else in the world wanted them.)

All right, Jones, that's enough of that now, he thought angrily, boxing up the memories, the emotions, the abandonment, and shoving it to the side.

A shiver worked its way through him, igniting any number of injuries and reminding him that there was still the unknown issue with his shoulder that had been lost in the agony of everything else. No time for that now, he had to get Liam back into the car and then find the damn blankets.

Killian sat Liam up, propping him - slumped nearly on his side - against the front door. Levering himself to his own feet, Killian bit back a cry when he set weight on his injured leg. Pain flared out from the open and jagged fracture, but it held him up.

Barely.

"Liam? Brother, can you hear me?" he asked when he thought he saw Liam move. Nothing happened and Killian put it on the back burner. Carefully, he dragged Liam backwards, knowing that it would be easier to lump him into the backseat than to try and contort him back into the driver's seat. Wrenching open the door nearly made him falter, unintentionally putting more weight on his leg than he'd meant to and clenching the muscles around his ribs.

The worst, he knew, was yet to come.

"All right, Brother, stay with me," he mumbled, looping his arms under Liam's and heaving with a sharp cry.

Killian was shaking with exertion by the time he had Liam nearly upright, but he couldn't stop. Not now. Not when his brother was so limp. With less care than he'd intended, Killian flopped Liam into the seat.

His brother screamed when he landed on his injured arm.

Killian bit back a grimace when Liam's eyes opened to slits and he rolled to try and grasp his wounded arm. Blood started to trickle out around the stake of wood again and Killian slammed the door shut before he could fixate on it. He needed to get to the trunk, get to the gauze and the pressure bandages and the godsdamned blankets. He heard Liam's mumbled question, heard his brot... captain, captain, damnit, call his name - his cursed name - but he couldn't focus on that. If he did... if he did, he'd never get to the trunk.

Was it too much to ask to want his...

Yes, yes it was too much to ask, the risk too high, the threat too real. Gods, he wanted his brother back and awake more than anything, but he couldn't risk it. Even if he had so many questions. Why was Liam here? How was Liam here? Would he stay? Could he forgive Killian for who he'd become? For turning pirate and forsaking the crown that Liam had so willingly followed?

For spending hundreds of years seeking vengeance instead of peace?

Would his brother stay with him now?

Did he still love him?

He stumbled, his leg giving out on him and sending him crashing, face first into the snow.

Bloody, buggering, son of a kraken, he thought violently, shaking the snow off as best as he could and cursing several deities and Mother Nature in the process. The snow was falling thick and fast, the air whipped into a frenzy with the storm. He had to get up, to stand again, to keep moving. It was so tempting to lie there, but no one was coming to save them. It was the Jones brothers against the world, always had been, always would be.

Killian pushed himself to his knees, snarling out his pain instead of screaming like he wanted to. He couldn't… Liam was somewhat conscious in the car and he needed to stay there. The stubborn bastard would come running if Killian screamed.

It took longer than he'd like, but he managed to drag himself up with help from the bumper. Putting weight on his leg came next, nearly sobbing when the snow settled on the jagged edge of the bone and it erupted in fire. Killian gasped out a breath around his ribs, dropping his forehead to the cold window for a moment and just trying to breathe.

Numb fingers reached out, searching until he saw them wrap around the door handle. A moment longer to breathe and gather his strength and he stood tall, his leg protesting vehemently, and yanked open the trunk.

The blankets and medkit were exactly where Liam said they'd be.

Thank the bloody gods something's gone right, he thought wryly, nearly crossing himself in a ghost's memory of his cursed self lest he bring down calamity on them. He threw the blankets over the back of the seat so they wouldn't get damp in the snow and wind, and then made his way around to the passenger's side, hoping beyond hope that he'd be able to get the door open.

Liam's shaggy curls greeted him and Killian breathed out a sigh of relief. He sat on the edge of the seat for a moment, nearly screaming again when he had to put all his weight on his injured leg to get into the car. It took longer than he'd like, but he managed to slide in, to settle Liam's head in his lap, and to shut the door again.

"Why did you call me your brother?"

Killian busied himself with spreading the blankets out over Liam's large frame, inwardly marveling at how so much of his brother managed to fit in so small a space. He tucked the first blanket tightly around his legs, then shook the second one out as best he could and left it loose, prepared to tuck it over his brother's shoulders after he'd taken care of the impalement that was still bleeding sluggishly.

"Detective?"

Killian was sure it was meant to be an order, but it came out breathy and questioning. Liam was weak, he needed help. Killian would have to get him squared away and then try to make it to the road. He'd found one of their cell phones in the snow, tossed in the crash and shattered, and the other had no service and the battery was low.

"I... I wasn't calling for you," he lied, hoping that his brother was too focused on the pressure Killian was putting on his wound to hear the way his voice shook. In a way, he thought, it was true. He wasn't calling for William Jewell, his captain and boss. He was calling for Liam Jones, his captain and his brother.

But Liam... William shook his head. "I've read your file. You don't have a brother."

"I did," Killian admitted, not trying to hide the grief of being separated from Liam for centuries. He hoped Jewell would read through the lines, read him like an open book as Liam could.

Liam froze. "When did you lose him?" His voice spoke of known loss and Killian thought of the unsolved file in Jewell's desk drawer. That's me, Liam. I'm right here, he thought. But he couldn't... he shouldn't.

"A long time ago. I... I miss him." You, Liam, Killian thought sadly. It's you I miss. But I'd gladly live another three centuries with you not knowing who I am than to risk you to Gothel's new curse.

It didn't matter. None of it would if they couldn't get Liam to help, get him to help. His leg was throbbing, his ribs were screaming, his head was pounding. His right arm was on fire now, the back of his shoulder hot with pain. It felt like torn muscles, only different, somehow more intense. Killian reached up with his prosthetic, but couldn't feel anything - the pain emanated from a point beyond his reach - though the fingers came back sticky with blood.

He ignored it. He had enough to worry about.

Tearing open some of the rolled bandages, Killian went to work stabilizing the branch in Liam's arm and putting enough pressure around the wound to finally stop the bleeding. Liam growled at the pain but allowed Killian to work, watching his every move intently.

"You're hurt," he mumbled, once Killian had tucked the blankets around Liam's shoulders.

Killian just shook his head. "It will keep, we need to worry about you right now."

"I had a brother, too, you know." Liam's eyes closed, the tone of voice one of pain and loss. Killian knew exactly what that was like. "You remind me of him."

"Aye, L-Liam, you've told me. We've looked at the file together, remember?" Killian risked the contact, needing the assurance, and rested his hand on Liam's chest.

"You remind me of him," Liam repeated anyway. "He was my little brother. He followed me everywhere until... until we were separated. I... I miss him, too."

I'm right here, Liam. Bloody hell, I'm right here. He wanted to shout it from the rooftops. He wanted to shout it in Liam's face. He wanted to find Rumplestiltskin's bloody dagger and slide it gracefully between Gothel's ribs while he shouted it in her face, too.

He wanted his brother.

Hell, he'd take on the bloody Darkness, himself, if that's what it took to keep Liam safe.

Shutting his eyes and blowing out a stuttering breath, he calmed himself down. No, he thought. Not even his love for Liam could make him take in the Dark One's curse. He'd never go that far; he couldn't. He couldn't go back down the path he'd followed until Alice had come into his life.

His head dropped back to rest against the seat. He was tired, he was cold, and he hurt. Killian wanted nothing more than to fall asleep and try to escape some of the torment for a bit, but he couldn't risk it. If he fell asleep-

He jerked up, startling a squawk out of Liam. It was full on dark, now, the snow blanketing the car and muting the world, somehow. Air drifted in from the broken window and the shattered windshield, but it seemed warmer in the confined space. He'd fallen asleep. Godsdamnit, he'd fallen asleep and he could have... Liam could have... gods, he couldn't do that again. But he was just so cold and so tired and-

"I'm sorry, little brother," Liam whispered into the darkness.

Killian froze, his breath caught in his chest and what felt like a dagger slicing into his chest. "Li... Liam?" he asked, not daring to hope that his brother remembered everything in the same instant that he was suddenly petrified that his brother had remembered everything.

"I'm sorry I couldn't find you," Liam continued, unaware of Killian's plight. He turned the best that he could, grabbing Killian's hand and looking straight at him. "I'm sorry I was too late. Killian, please, can you forgive me?"

Liam didn't know his real name was Killian... had he woken? Was he in danger?

"Please, little brother, I didn't mean for you to die."

Oh.

"It's... it's all right, Liam," Killian murmured back, not knowing what else to do, what else to say. "I know you wouldn't have left me if you could stay. I know you didn't mean for anything to happen. I was mad at you, for a long time. I was so angry that you'd gone where I couldn't follow and I abandoned everything you taught me. I didn't understand why we had to be apart, why the universe saw fit to separate us. But we're... we're together now, so it's all right. I forgave you long ago, brother."

Liam shook his head, shifting with a bitten back grimace until he could find Killian's prosthetic, tangle his fingers through the stiff joints. "So much happened, and I tried. I tried to stay with you, to fight to stay with you. But we couldn't... I couldn't make my way back to you. I was weak, little brother, and I couldn't figure out my way back to you until it was too late. You were gone where I couldn't follow. I miss you, Killian. I miss you and I still wish you were here with me. You must have felt so alone and I... I just... I couldn't find you. Not until it was too late."

Killian shuddered, the memories - the grief - he'd long since buried coming to light in his brother's words. He didn't know what was going on - didn't really understand what side of Liam he was seeing, but it didn't matter. His brother needed him and he'd be damned if he was going to fail Liam again.

"It's not too late, Liam. You found me. Aye, it took longer than either of us would have liked, but we're together now, just us against the world."

And it was, would always be the brothers Jones on their quest for good form and glory and, most of all, a happy bloody ending for the two of them. Together.

Even if he had to slay a witch to do it.

"The brothers Jewell," Liam avowed.

Aye, close enough for now, Killian thought, shifting with a wince as he shivered.

"Rogers?" Liam asked some time later, his eyes more clear and staring - almost accusingly - at Killian. "What's wrong?"

The emotional whiplash Liam was putting him through was more than enough, but Killian couldn't exactly tell him that. It stung more than he'd like to admit to hear his cursed name falling from his brother's lips.

"Rogers," his brother ordered, a tone of voice that Killian had followed for years and then dreamt about for centuries. A tone of voice that he'd never fail to respond to.

"We need to get out of here," he allowed, not quite a lie, but not what was really wrong, either.

Liam nodded, but frowned. "I don't think I can make it too far; everything's a little fuzzy."

Killian shuddered. Hearing his brother admit weakness was… well, it wasn't something he'd ever be prepared for. "That's all right, Liam. I can… you can stay here and I'll try to get help. I just need…"

Need what, Jones? A minute to gather your strength, an hour to hope that you'll make it more than ten feet outside the door on this bloody leg? You're not going to make it any further than Liam would.

But Liam was fading again, his eyes glossing over and the shivering starting to worsen. "Please don't leave me, little brother," he begged, lost to the delusion once more.

Killian bit back the tears at the sheer desperation in Liam's voice.

"Please. Please, Killian, I need you with me. Please don't… I'm sorry I lost you. Please don't go!" Liam shifted in the cramped backseat, the blankets falling away from where Killian had tucked them carefully, and knotted his fingers in Killian's shirt. "Please!"

Killian reached out to snag the warm blankets, tucking them back in carefully before he wrapped his fingers around Liam's. "I'll not leave you again, brother," he murmured, ignoring the pervasive cold that started to wrap around him.

Liam's hand was trembling just slightly in his - whether from the cold, the pain, or the sheer depth of relief that Killian saw echoed in his face - and his fingers refused to give up the treasure of Killian's shirt. He dropped his head back against the seat, grimacing when sparks danced in his vision. Gods, he just wanted to start this day over with, get his brother somewhere warm and safe and leave him there.

Killian's fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around Liam's. No, he thought wildly. He'd never wanted to be parted from his brother. Not ever again.

Squeezing his eyes shut against the pain that crested every time he tensed, Killian never noticed when it took him under completely.

Rogers's hand went limp around Liam's fingers and a bolt of fear shot through him. He didn't understand the feeling, not really. He hadn't felt that in years. Not since he'd lost Killian in that bloody back alley, since he had come across his little brother - shot and bleeding out - no. No, wait, that wasn't right. Rogers had been shot in that alley. Liam hadn't been there when Killian died, too busy chasing his goddamned tail across the city looking for a lead on his brother's whereabouts, looking for the right case to improve his standing on the force so he could open enough doors to get to Killian.

Not knowing that all the while, Killian had been right in the city, under his nose, needing him desperately. And Liam wasn't there. Wasn't there for the only thing in the world that their mother could leave him, for the only person who relied on him (and who Liam relied on when their father had split). Wasn't there when his little brother was gasping out his last breaths, likely wondering why his big brother wasn't there to keep him safe.

No, Liam had failed Killian, but he'd be damned if he would do such a piss poor job of keeping Rogers safe. He'd almost lost the man once, and the stab of regret that accompanied that memory just made him all the more determined to see Rogers safely to a hospital. Rogers obviously needed someone to look out for him and Liam... well Liam would be lying if he said that he didn't need the feeling back that came with successfully looking after someone who looked up to him. They weren't brothers, not by blood anyway, but they were tied together by far more than that. The bonds of fellowship and the thin blue line and everything the proverbial 'they' talked about were more than just lip service. Those things meant something, and it was more than enough to draw he and Rogers close.

Slowly, painfully biting back a groan that nearly turned into a whimper when he jostled his arm, Liam forced himself to sit up. Stars popped in his vision and it felt as though the SUV lurched nauseatingly around him as he tried to gulp in air and stay sitting upright. He had to let go of Kil- Rogers's shirt, throwing his hands out to the seat below him as if the entire vessel... vessel? it's a bloody car, you idiot... were rocking on a storm-tossed sea.

Liam wasn't even going to try and justify where his thoughts were floating off to.

Rogers didn't move.

Liam got his first good look at the detective then, cursing loudly through the blanketed silence in the car. He was bloody well going to murder the idiot. Rogers was nearly as pale as a ghost, his white complexion blending into the snow covering the window behind him. Even unconscious, he was shivering, goosebumps covering the exposed flesh that Liam could see.

He cursed again - a nonsensical string of words about a kraken and a demon-child spawning a creature that had more bloody sense than Rogers did. The blankets slipped from Liam's shoulder as he reached subconsciously out to touch Rogers's cheek and started swearing once more.

Rogers was freezing and it was only then that Liam realized - his bloody stubborn and idiotic br- subordinate hadn't taken a goddamned blanket for himself.

Muttering angrily to himself, Liam struggled to separate the two layers of woolen blankets that were wrapped tightly around his too-tall-in-too-small-a-space frame. No good, dumbass, idiotic, son of a- Liam bit off the curse when the blankets finally came free.

"Didn't I teach you anything about self-preservation, you bloody git? Never, never make yourself a victim because nobody is going to look out for you if you're not where I can..." he trailed off, beginning to shake - and not from the cold.

Rogers.

Killian.

Killian!

Rogers - shot and bleeding out in an alley. But no, not Rogers. That hadn't happened. Or... rather, it had, but that wasn't the start of their story. No. No, there was so much more than that.

Abandoned by their father, sold into slavery, breaking free of the hold of Silver and the rum that had taken Killian by storm, the Navy. Freedom in war, in rising through the ranks of their own station.

Killian, whole and safe and holding him on that bloody, godsforsaken island after he'd made the stupid, self-sacrificial mistake of trusting someone who wasn't his little brother.

Gods, he had a little brother, still.

Killian, shaking with relief when Liam had woken, tears in his eyes and trembling fingers that had clutched at the lapels of his uniform, berating Liam's stubbornness and his lack of self-preservation on that godsforsaken island in the name of good bloody form.

Killian, screaming again - this time for anyone to help him as Liam had collapsed, the poison returning with a vengeance just as they'd made plans to do the honorable thing and report the King's treachery to the Admiralty.

Killian - the last thing Liam had heard before waking up in Hades' bloody clutches - screaming out his grief as Liam had failed him so utterly, leaving him with no one to protect him in their cold, cruel realm of existence.

Hades, quickly restoring him to life before his body could decay, only to hand him over to the bloody demon child Killian had thought was his salvation - a slave once more to Neverland and its ruler - in exchange for information that never had made sense to Liam. After all, how could a child have a full grown son whom Hades feared?

Decades of servitude to bloody Pan and his shadow, always a half step from salvation if he could just get free long enough to barter passage from Pan's nemesis - Captain Hook. Liam would gladly take to piracy if it meant freedom to leave Neverland, to find out what had become of his little brother all those years ago.

All Liam had wanted back then was to find some record of Killian's passing - to know if his little brother had ever been truly free.

But now?

Now, Liam was sitting in a bloody contraption of a vehicle next to the little brother he'd thought must have passed on centuries ago. He didn't know how or why, but he didn't rightly care, either. Killian, his Killian, was here - alive (okay, barely because his little brother was still a bloody idiot, apparently) and he was going to gods-be-damned stay that way. Liam wrapped the blanket tightly around Killian now, terrified that he was too late.

Again.

Always too late, always leaving his brother, but this time - this time - maybe Killian was going to leave him.

No!

Liam gripped his little brother's shoulders, stomping on the cursed memories that brought forth images of another little brother, this one cold and dead on a slab in the morgue. He no longer recognized the face, but felt the grief of loss all the same. He couldn't quite shake the feeling of losing his little brother, even when the only little brother he'd ever known was right here, inexplicably beside him, breathing and shivering.

Liam shook Killian. Hard.

"Kil-" Liam cut himself off. Rogers would think he'd lost his godsdamned mind if he woke up to his Captain calling him by a strange name - by the name of his dead little brother. He couldn't risk it. He needed Rogers to trust him.

He needed it more than he needed explanations, more than he needed to see the recognition in his little brother's eyes, more than he needed the air in his lungs and the scant warmth of the blanket pooled in his lap.

But Killian didn't respond anyway. Didn't wake up and look at him, didn't cock one bloody eyebrow and smirk as he'd done ever since they were boys playing at pirates outside their seaside cottage, play-acting for their mother.

No, Killian remained cold and frighteningly still and unconscious and Liam had never felt so lost in his whole bloody life. He couldn't lose his little brother. Not now, not before he'd even really gotten him back.

Gods, if he lost Killian now...

Grief crashed down on Liam's shoulders with enough force to buckle his spine. He slumped forward, tugging his little brother close and taking advantage of his unconsciousness for only a moment, tucking Killian's head beneath his chin and hugging him as tightly as he could manage. He just needed a moment to gather his resolve, to reassure himself that Killian was truly alive, that Liam hadn't yet failed his-

His hands were sticky.

What the bloody... oh gods, blood.

"Son of a godsdamned kraken, Killian Jones!" Liam spat as he tugged Killian further forward, hiking his brother's jacket up his back to see the shirt beneath nearly saturated with blood. Shaking, Liam reached up to find the rend in the leather and tore it further, exposing the jagged laceration that was nearly as long as his hand. Killian must have been cut by the glass of the broken passenger side window during the crash.

"Bloody hell, you stubborn, self-sacrificial..." he trailed off into Gaelic, a language he hadn't spoken in centuries - not since he'd been lost to Killian and washed up on the bloody shores of Neverland, alone and lost.

"Mac kraken agus an scáth fuilteach sin," Liam muttered again, throwing in an insult to Pan's bloody shadow while he was at it. Killian stirred when Liam reached for the first aid kit, digging haphazardly through until he could find something suitable - an abdominal combine pad as it turned out - and mashed it with all the strength he had against the gash on his little brother's back.

Killian writhed weakly, trying to turn away, but Liam persisted. "Serves you right, you moron," he seethed and pressed harder.

That tore a little whimper from Killian's lips that struck Liam right in the heart.

"I know, little brother, I'm sorry," he whispered, laying Killian back against the seat and using his own weight as pressure against the wound. Liam covered him with both blankets, tucking the ends under Killian's shoulders to keep them secure. "Don't worry, I'm going to get us out of this mess."

Liam turned then, intent on getting out of the car and searching for the road, when the whole world seemed to tilt and whirl around him. "Bloody hell," he managed, gripping his hair with one hand and the backseat with the other.

It didn't help.

His arm throbbed, his head was pounding, the world was spinning. None of it should have mattered because Killian was bleeding and only somewhat conscious in the seat next to him. Gasping, moaning a little in spite of himself, Liam tried to scrabble for the door handle, needing to get out, get to the road, get help.

He had barely managed to lock his fingers on the handle when his battle of wills with his stomach came to an abrupt and violent end. Liam nearly blacked out, his head coming to rest on the driver's seat as he forced the stars popping in his vision to not send him back to the calm of unconsciousness.

Killian needed him.

"Looks like you two could use some help," a chipper voice startled Liam badly, making his head shoot up in search of the newest threat and causing the world to tilt dangerously around him again.

"Who the bloody hell are you?"