Chapter Four

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

"Storybrooke? No no please, you don't understand, you can't take me to Storybrooke. You need to take me home right now." Emma said, her eyes searching his imploringly. Borderline begging him to take her home.

For a split second, pity seemed to flash in his eyes before it was gone without a trace and replaced with the slightest hint of irritation. He chuckled darkly, dropping his eyes to the ground and shaking his head at his gullibility before his eyes moved to rest on her once again, smirking down at her, "The charade is up lass, you've been caught and if you think you can get away with delaying your destiny for this long and keeping me from exacting my vengeance, you're sadly mistaken m'dear." His face darkened and he took a menacing step towards her at the mention of his yet-to-be-completed-vengeance.

Emma sat up a little straighter, slightly chagrined at his miserable attempts of intimidating her. "Listen, pal you are seriously off your rocker, and I don't have the time or the patience to deal with you or your petty problems, so I suggest you let me go now before I find a way to get out of this myself. Because let me tell you, it won't be pretty." She said, her voice slowly rising in timbre as she rose as gracefully as she could with one hand bound to the bed. As she finished her monologue with her threat, she took a sharp step forward to poke him square in the chest.

He looked down at her offending finger and chuckled lightly to himself before he grabbed her wrist and looked her directly in the eye, his features quickly twisting menacingly. "Let me tell you how it works on my ship," he said, taking a step forward and forcing her back onto the bed with a plop. "I make the demands you follow them. So if I tell you to strip yourself bare and amuse me you will, and if I tell you to walk the bloody plank you will, so when I say you're going to Storybrooke, you bloody well will. Got it, princess?"

Emma's eyes widened slightly as she slowly began to realize the gravity or her current situation, she didn't know where she was or how she got there, but she knew she had to get out of there quick, because who knew how long she would have before this nut job finally cracked. She looked back up at him, her mouth opening and closing several times before she finally came up with a decent response, "Will you at least tell me where we're going? I mean I know, Storybrooke, right? But where is that?"

His expression tweaked, looking irritated, but slightly perplexed at her question before he turned on his heel and walked over to his desk, regarding what she assumed was a map. He whispered to himself as he began to trace a pathway down the map before his face flashed briefly with something akin to pride and his arm came to a stop. She observed his arm as it hovered over the map, a flash of colour caught her eye. Upon closer inspection, it was a tattoo of a heart with a jagged dagger through its center. Above the heart, a scroll was delicately draped over the top that read Milah in ornate calligraphy. He suddenly turned back to face her, a hint of a smirk on his face. "Storybrooke is nestled in a little village called Maine."

She nodded her head in acknowledgment, too curious to be concerned, and chuckled lightly at the 'village' remark before she raised her curious eyes to his. "Who's Milah?" His eyes flashed briefly with heart wrenching pain, before he blinked it away and narrowed them in accusing confusion as moved his eyes up to meet hers. She hastened to clarify. "The tattoo?" She said motioning to his wrist.

His eyes darkened in contempt and narrowed further in hatred as he stared her down. "Someone from long ago." He said, looking away as his eyes filled with sadness. He quickly blinked the moisture away from his eyes and turned back to face her angrily. Angry that she had brought up his love, angry that she made him re-live that pain, however briefly, angry that she had reminded him of his failure. He shut his eyes and fought to control himself. We need her alive, we need her alive, we need her alive… he thought, repeating the one sentence like a mantra in his head.

With a sigh, he shook his head, as if to rid himself of any remaining emotion. And with one last calming breath, he looked back at her. "No matter, we're nearly there." he said, a thin smile stretching his pale lips.

Emma looked up at her captor in confusion, "How can we possibly be nearly there, we just left the harbor?" she said, uncertainty coloring her last few words "Didn't we?" she asked.

"Actually, m'dear, you've been unconscious for several days." he said, sobering up and wincing slightly at the reminder of her captivity. he'd after all been hoping she would come willingly, it would've been much easier on himself.

Suddenly her stomach grumbled loudly as if to remind her just how long it had been since she'd last eaten. She looked down at her stomach pointedly then up at him, making her intent clear, seeming only the slightest bit embarrassed. He winced again and quickly nodded to himself before he left the room in search of food for the savior.

When Emma awoke several hours later, it was to an empty room. She rose slowly, stretching her sore limbs as much as possible with her own horrid cuffs keeping her in place, when her elbow bumped the tray that sat on the edge of the makeshift cabinet by the side of the bed. Quickly realizing that she must've been asleep when he brought back her meal, she sat up crossing her legs, earnestly excited at the prospect of food. Emma picked up the tray awkwardly and shifted it to her lap. Assessing its contents, she skeptically brought a small lump of bread and cheese to her lips.

She perked up considerably, chewing happily on her meal, hurriedly bringing another bite to her lips as she inspected the room that held her captive. She drank in the elaborate desk that stood in the center of the room, cluttered with ancient maps, as well as a few new ones, as she ate. And in the far corner, stood a tall bookcase only half full of books, the other half was filled with all kinds of knick knacks, from what Emma assumed was her captors previous travels. As well as a pitch black couch in the opposite corner. All the furniture was nailed to the ground, she realized. But, or course, in true ladies man fashion, the bed took up the majority of the room. With plush pillows and blood red sheets.

With a sound of disgust, Emma quickly realized that she was in the captains cabin. Which meant that he'd put her in his cabin, which of course meant that he'd be back. Soon. Very Soon. To sleep. With her. In the same bed. At this realization, she dropped the bread that she'd had fisted in her hand, dropping her jaw and quickly losing her appetite.

Suddenly the door slammed open with a loud thunk and the alleged Captain Hook sauntered. Alleged psycho who thinks he's Captain Hook. She thought, mentally correcting herself. She quickly stood, taking on her best defensive stance with one hand quite literally tied behind her back. He made no attempt to hide his inspection of her as his eyes practically ate up her shapely form. Thoroughly disgusted, she cleared her throat, bringing his eyes back up to hers. "I want my own room." she demanded, though it came out in a much weaker voice than she would've liked.

He smiled, showing his perfect white teeth, seemingly amused. "Not going to happen princess." he retorted, "You'll stay right here."

At that her eyes hardened and she took up her defensive stance once again, at which he chuckled and strode forward, moving his mouth close to her ear, so she could feel his breath on her neck. "What's wrong, love? Are you afraid of the dastardly pirate." At her tense silence, he merely chuckled knowingly once again and spoke, "Your virtue is safe with me princess, my heart belongs to another."

He backed away slightly, when suddenly his eyes moved down to her bleeding wrist before she moved forward, tucking it behind her back. His expression hardened and he moved close once again. He lifted his hand up and Emma closed her eyes, knowing with merely a drop of his weight, he could strike her hard on across the face. But rather than strike her, his hand moved to cup her chafed wrist. She hesitantly blinked open her eyes when she felt his warm hand on her swollen wrist. Concern marred his features as he ever so carefully removed the cuff keys from his coat pocket before he reached down and unlocked it, setting her free. He used his hook to gently prod her back onto the bed and he snagged a chair with his hook so he was sitting in front of her. He released her arm so as to reach into his jacket once more, but this time his hand emerged with a dusty canteen. Removing the cork with his teeth, he spat it into the far corner and he turned back to her. Motioning for her to give him back her hand, but she merely cradled her mangled wrist closer to her body.

"Your hand, its cut. Let me help you." he said, massaging the bridge of his nose, blowing out an exasperated breath, impatiently attempting to quell the beginnings of a headache.

"Its fine." Emma replied gruffly, glaring hatefully at her captor.

"No its not." he said, reaching across her lap to wrench her forearm from her grip.

"So now you're going to be a gentleman?" Emma spat between grit teeth, still struggling to remove her arm from his nimble grip.

"You'll get blood all over my sheets," he stopped, smirking up at her, the innuendo clear, He leaned in closer, "and I'm always a gentleman." he chuckled, wiggling his eyebrows obscenely at his own joke. With that, he poured the bottles contents all over her torn wrist.

"Ah!" she hissed, pulling her wrist from his grip once again, before he snagged it and pulled it back to himself with his hook. "What is that?"

"Rum," he sighed, feigning disappointment "and a bloody waste of it at that." Then, with his good hand, he slowly began to unwind the scarf from around his neck, only to rewind it around her injured wrist. He glanced up at her and blew out a slow breath. "I'm going to assume you know how to break the curse, because we don't have a bloody clue. But once we arrive, I expect you to break it so we can both be on our way."

"I told you, I have no idea what you're talking about. I don't know anything about a curs- wait, we?" she said, looking at him accusingly.

"Ahh, yes that." he said, bending down to tie a knot using the aforementioned scarf, with only his teeth and his hand in a way that made her heart unknowingly race. "She is my - or rather our- accomplice." he said, sighing once again, his disappointment all too real, his sigh heavy with what sounded a little too much like regret.

"Talking about me again, Captain?"

A/N: Oh my goodness, so sorry for the super late update! I'm terrible at this already! I can never remember when to update. Anyways, I promise I'll try to update this next chapter within the next 2 weeks! So much for "faster updates" right? Forgive me please! Review?

UPDATED 16/03/15: Please check out my new one-shot! I'd really love to know what you guys think! Are one shot my thing/ Or should I just stick with the one fic? Please give it a read and leave me a review!