A/N: I wanted to break up the first two chapters, but I'll give you both on the same day. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Not my characters, not my world. Just my imagination borrowing them for a bit.
He was heavy. Heavier than he looked.
Emma had snaked her left hand behind his head to catch his fall somewhat, but she wasn't prepared for just how much he actually weighed. She nearly toppled over beside him as she tried not to let him hit the floor too hard. She winced inwardly - even in the dark she could see the slow trickle of blood from his temple, and the area around it was already starting to bruise.
His breathing was slow and even, and she let out her own pent up breath of relief with a sigh. She had no intention of killing anyone, least of all the capable and surprisingly handsome Lieutenant of the Jewel, but she needed to escape and this was the only way.
She waited a moment to catch her breath. Her lips still buzzed from the kiss a minute ago, the taste of him in her mouth. Not a bad kiss, she admitted as she watched him sleep, his dark hair falling across his face, making him look very… young. He'd have quite the headache when he awoke but he should be fine, she reassured herself.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, as she slipped past him into the doorway she had seen earlier.
Following the hull of the small ship, she sped through the passageway to just below the cannons. The ladder at her right led directly to the gun deck, and she could tell from the straining of the wood that the Beetle was still roped tightly to the Jewel. She climbed the ladder cautiously, her hand still gripping the box tightly, and peered over the top rung.
Empty.
Good.
She sped up the last few steps and nearly flew to the short line of cannons at the edge of the wall. The gunports were open, the large artillery still aimed directly into the Jewel's guns. The two cannons nearly bumped each other in the gentle rocking motion of the ships tied together on the open ocean.
Emma wrapped her skirts and the extra material of her cloak around her arm and carefully climbed atop one of the heavy iron cannons. Breathing slowly to calm herself, she slid slowly toward the mouth of the gun and through the narrow gunport. She could touch the Jewel's gun from here, the opening around it even larger than the one she had just passed through.
Don't look down.
With a quick jump, she managed to cross the narrow gap and slipped aboard the other ship's cannon, the iron still warm from the recent engagement. She climbed through the gunport and looked around. A few cabin boys were cleaning out the guns at the other end of the line, but they hadn't noticed her.
Moving silently, she raced along the hull to a ladder leading downward. She didn't remember her feet touching a single step as she ran, desperate to get to a new hiding place aboard this unfamiliar ship. Emma hoped her assessment was correct, that they'd neglect to check their own ship for any suspicious travellers. She found a dark corner of the hold behind some musty ropes and spare boxes, stifling a sneeze as she slipped behind them.
Finally concealed, she allowed herself to relax somewhat, her head falling limply against the hull as she forced herself to breathe as quietly as possible.
Now all she had to do was wait.
Liam tossed the bloody cloth into the pail of water on the floor and dragged his sleeve across his eyes. Killian was asleep on his bunk, his head wrapped with a clean bandage, the white of the cloth standing out starkly against his dark hair. He'd been found in the hold of the Beetle a few hours ago, blood covering the side of his face and neck, and, for a moment, Liam had been terrified that he'd lost his little brother in this all-too-long war. But the gentle rise and fall of Killian's chest had proven otherwise, and after a quick cleaning, he could see the source of the bleeding - a short gash just inside his hairline, atop a nice-sized lump.
Killian had been rendered unconscious deliberately.
But by whom? Liam wondered again, scrubbing his hands across his face.
He didn't think Killian needed stitching, the cut was small enough that it should heal fine on its own. He'd offered to take care of it himself, letting the surgeon deal with the more severe wounds from the battle earlier.
A groan just then interrupted his worrying thoughts and he turned to the bed. Killian was waking up, his eyes squeezed tightly as he reached a hand up to hold his head.
"Easy there, little brother," Liam said gently. "You've been out for quite some time."
Killian slowly rolled on his side and propped himself on an elbow, another groan escaping as he squinted open his eyes.
"Ugh," he managed eloquently.
Liam reached over and grabbed the pail. "Need a bucket?" he offered.
His brother started to shake his head but thought better of the movement and grunted out a "no" before collapsing back on the pillows, his hand covering the bandaged wound.
"What happened?" Liam asked leaning forward.
Killian swallowed hard. "I found someone hiding in the hold," he whispered between clenched teeth, his eyes closed tightly against the pain and bright light. "She hit me."
"She?" No respectable warship travelled with female passengers - at least, no respectable women anyway.
"Aye." Killian took a deep breath and pushed himself up to sitting, sliding back to rest his head against the wall. He was pale, but not quite as deathly pale as he'd been a few hours ago.
"We saw no sign of anyone in the hold," Liam said. The crew had scoured every inch of the ship, looking for both Killian's attacker and the required item. Liam had personally gone through that hold himself, but found nothing.
The younger Jones rubbed his palm into his eye and winced as he looked at his brother through his half-open right eye. "And the rest of the ship?" he asked.
"No women, and so far, no location either." Liam stood and went to the pitcher of drinking water on his desk, pouring some in a cup which he passed to his brother. "We moved as much of the cargo over as we could, we need to get it documented at some point." He motioned to the stack of books that were scattered across every other surface of the room. "I've been going through the logs while you slept, but I can't seem to find any sign of what we're looking for."
Killian sipped at the water, still squinting as he looked at his Captain. He passed the cup back and scooted forward to the edge of the bed, clearly preparing to stand.
"Hey, hey," Liam said, rushing to his side. "You shouldn't get up just yet." Part of him knew such an admonition was futile - Killian was the most stubborn man he knew, no one talked him out of doing something once he set his mind to it. He could count on one hand the amount of times his brother had listened to him to rest when he so clearly needed it, most of them after that particularly brutal beating years ago at the hands of their former quartermaster, before they joined the Navy. Liam shook his head to clear himself of that memory.
"Have to find her," Killian slurred. He wobbled precariously on his feet before sinking back into the mattress with a grunt.
Liam shook his head. "There's no way. We've released the grappling already. We're towing the Beetle home as we speak. We should be back in the Enchanted Forest tomorrow morning."
He put a hand on Killian's shoulder and bent to look him in the eye. He hated the way his brother's face looked, the purple edges of the bruise peeking it from below the bandage, a pained grimace squinting his eyes mostly closed. "Stay here," Liam said. "Sleep for a bit. We'll search the Beetle again once we make port, all right?"
A strange look crossed Killian's face just then, and Liam wasn't sure if it was disappointment or something else entirely. His little brother dropped his hand from his forehead to touch his lips, eyes narrowed as he sat still.
"The cargo needs to be catalogued," he muttered almost to himself as he tried to stand again. "I need to see to it."
"Killian," Liam started with a sigh, reaching a hand to catch his brother's arm. "You need to rest."
Killian blinked up at him. He was clearly still in pain, the pupils of his usually clear blue eyes blown large and dark even in the glare of evening sunlight, and he was barely turning his head, his movements stiff and awkward. "I'll rest, Liam," he said quietly, "I promise. But I need to check something first."
Liam sighed again. "Fine. But if I don't find you in your bunk in an hour, I'll confine you to your quarters under Captain's orders." He rarely threatened to pull rank on Killian, but his brother needed to take it easy after such an injury.
"Agreed," the younger Jones answered as he limped slowly to the door, his hand rubbing his head once more.
"Be careful, brother," Liam called softly.
He heard the whispered reply as Killian left the room. "I will, brother."
She kissed me.
Killian couldn't seem to get those three words out of his head as he made his way from the Captain's quarters. His head throbbed painfully in time with his heartbeat and he could feel the swollen knot at his temple even through the bandage. He'd managed to swallow the urge to vomit before, but now his stomach rolled alarmingly as he headed down the narrow corridors.
He reached the door to the officer's quarters, but he didn't open it. Instead, he turned toward the ladderway to the gun deck below.
I have to find her, he thought, before someone else does.
Killian was certain Liam was correct, that she was no longer aboard the Beetle. But a woman desperate enough to kiss a man in order to distract him was one he couldn't afford to underestimate. No doubt she was now concealed in the one place no one would think to look for her.
Right under our noses.
One hand on his sword, the other gently pressing against the bruise on his head, he swiftly descended into the bottommost section of the Jewel of the Realm.
Emma heard footsteps approaching the lowest hold as she tried to squeeze herself deeper into her hiding place. She'd been able to doze off a bit over the last few hours, but she was still exhausted, fear of being discovered stretching her nerves even thinner than she thought possible.
And now, someone was coming.
Great.
She checked her cloak for probably the twentieth time, ensuring it was both secure and firmly wrapped around her, no part of it peeking from behind the row of barrels. The small box was still tightly wrapped in her fingers.
The footsteps drew closer, the echo of booted heels stepping on wooden planks filling the near silence of the cramped space. She wished she could stop breathing; the air going in and out was much too loud in her ears.
The sound stopped.
Emma didn't move, didn't blink, as she waited for something to happen, hoping the mysterious intruder would turn and leave so she could breathe in peace for the remainder of the trip. I'm so close, she thought. I can't fail now.
A loud noise nearly made her cry out in surprise. She bit her lip to keep silent. The noise continued to her left, the sound of something being dragged across the boards.
Emma looked around. The area to her right was clear, there was plenty of space for her to slip behind the row of barrels to the other side of the hold. Slowly, ever so slowly, her back pressed against the wall, she slid up to her feet, the soft swishing of her skirts and cloak undetected against the other noise. She inched her way against the wall, careful to stay behind the barrels and in the deepest of shadows.
A hand grabbed her arm suddenly, pulling her from her hiding place and spinning her around. She gasped as cold metal came to rest against her neck.
It was him, the Lieutenant from the Beetle, the one she had knocked out just a few hours ago, his sword pressed against her throat. She winced when she saw that his head was wrapped with a white cloth, a small dot of red staining through it near the side of his forehead.
"What the hell are you doing aboard this ship?" he demanded.