The sun's early rays woke him from restless dreams. He had always been an early riser, for as captain, he had to rise before the rest of his crew, and was always the last to succumb to sleep. Three hundred years of the same routine hadn't left him yet, and he suspected they never would.
Sleep had rarely given him any true rest, and even less so after Milah's death. His dreams were consumed with the same poisonous hate and bitterness that filled his waking hours. He often woke with a scowl on his face, loathing the demons that haunted his every step.
With a sigh of resignation he disentangled himself from his bedding and moved toward the oaken chest that held his clothes. He plucked a red silk shirt from the top of the pile and slipped it over his head, the feel of the cool silk gliding across his skin making him shiver. Whatever this place was where Cora had brought him, it was certainly nothing like the humid warmth of Neverland.
He slipped a vest of black brocade over top, welcoming the small warmth that the additional layer provided. He tipped the lid of the chest, causing it to slam shut with a loud bang as he turned and crossed to his desk. His leather breeches were slung carelessly over the back of the chair, hanging haphazardly where he had thrown them in his agitation the night before. He slid his muscular legs into the supple leather, suddenly impatient to leave his cabin and step out into the crisp salt air.
His boots took the longest. Even with years of practice it was never an easy thing to do up the laces with a single hand. His haste and the cold made his fingers clumsy, and he cursed several times in frustration. Once the task was complete he stood up quickly, and made his way out into the cool dawn, grabbing his thick, high collared coat as he swept from the room.
He sighed as the air met his lungs, gulping in deep breathes of the salt air that always seemed to clear his head. It was one his few comforts, the briny smell of the sea, for it was the one thing that never changed no matter what world he was in.
He made his way slowly toward the bow of his ship, all disquiet having left him with his first breath of the sea. He grasped the worn wood of the railing with his good hand, feeling the grain of it underneath his fingertips. With another weary sigh he closed his eyes. He could feel the subtle rocking of the ship beneath his feet, a motion that soothed him further as though he were a babe wrapped in his mother's arms. He was struck, not for the first time, by how much he truly loved the sea. There was a rightness to the way his breath seemed to rise and fall with each passing wave, and his heart seemed in time with the steady crash of the sea on the shore.
He looked out at the horizon, and longed for the simple days when to reach that distant line had been his only goal in life. Endless adventures, thousands of ports, hundreds of women throwing themselves at him wherever he went...all were gone now. In their place, stood one plot, one driving force, one crocodile.
He growled in frustration, angry at his own inability to carry out his revenge with his target still sleeping little more than a stone's throw from where he stood. How he despised magic. Without it, his foe was nothing. He had proved that once before, on the deck of this very ship, and so he would do again.
He began to turn away from the rail, intending to perform his routine checks of the ship, when a flash of blonde caught his attention.
She was at the end of the dock, walking slowly down it toward where his ship was moored. He knew that she could not see the ship, but he stood still regardless, wanting nothing to give him away. She wandered slowly down the length of the dock, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her red leather coat. Her hair was curled today, a slight change that he found he liked. He caught himself thinking of catching his fingers in her long flowing locks and shook himself roughly to rid his mind of such a tempting thought.
She came ever closer, clearly lost in thought as she looked through his ship and out into the light grey dawn. He thought once or twice that she looked directly at him, but her gaze moved on before he could even remind himself of his invisibility to her. She seemed troubled somehow, somewhat agitated as she reached the end of the pier and glared down into the swirling water below. Had his sudden appearance in Storybrooke and their subsequent encounter caused this? No, of course not, he thought ruefully to himself. His head was truly full of ridiculous thoughts this morning.
She turned away from the cloud-blackened water, clearly not finding the answers to the questions she held. Her hands emerged from her pockets to wrap around her torso, bargaining for some additional warmth that her jacket could not provide. As she did her head tilted back, her eyes drifting upward to see if the sky held more answers than the water. Apparently, it did, for she stopped dead and stared at something overhead, a bewildered expression marring her features.
A stab of panic shot through Hook as he followed Emma's gaze to the top of the mast. "Damn!" he muttered as he caught sight of several seagulls perched atop the highest point of his ship. He wasn't sure if Cora's spell extended to things that came into contact with his ship, but he hazarded a guess that it didn't based on the look on Emma's face. He turned back to her, her gaze now flickering between the gulls and the place where she now knew his ship to be, a look of amused comprehension slowly dawning on her face.
"Shit," he groaned, knowing that it was only a matter of time before she found her way on board. Sure enough, she walked over to a box that held some gritting sand, took a handful, and threw it into the air. They both watched it land on the gangplank, she with a triumphant grin on her face, and he with a resigned grimace.
She tentatively placed a foot on the boards and carefully began to climb. Killian scrambled away from the edge, suddenly afraid to be caught watching her once again. Neither would he retreat to his cabin, he decided, and let her think that she had caught him unawares. This was his ship after all. He settled for perching as nonchalantly as he could manage on a crate beneath the main mast. It was a spot where she would not immediately see him, so he would be able to make the first move.
She clambered aboard noisily, the invisible boards making her footsteps loud and unsure. She stepped down onto the deck, more sure of her footing now, her mouth falling open as she took in her surroundings. Her eyes roved upwards, seeing now that the gulls were indeed perched upon a mast and not thin air.
"What's the matter love? First time aboard a pirate ship?"
Her eyes flicked downward to find him at the base of the mast. "Hook," she gasped. "I...I um...yes." she said uncertainly, clearly unsure of what to make of the situation.
"Hmm well you never forget your first," he smirked, winking roguishly at her.
This time, his snide remark failed to bring that agitated look he loved so well. He had failed at this last night as well. It appeared he was losing his touch, a sensation he had never felt before. He wasn't sure he liked it very much. He frowned for a moment, then tried again. "So what brings you to the Jolly Roger this early in the morning love? Couldn't sleep after our encounter last night eh?"
Ah there's the look, he thought triumphantly.
"I wasn't trying to find your ship, I didn't even know it was here," she said, looking about her once again. "How did you get it here anyway? Seems awfully big to fit through the portal."
"Aye lass, but who says we went through the same portal?" he supplied with a sly grin, "Ah, I see you're confused. I'll elaborate shall I?"
She fixed him with a steely glare. Ha, not losing my touch quite so much then after all!
"When Cora summoned the waters fourth from deep beneath the earth, they exploded out of the ground in the form of a geyser. Some of the water splashed out onto the dried lakebed, where the parched earth soaked it up. We couldn't follow you through the same portal; it was too risky. So we searched the lakebed for some of the waters to restore the bean and make our own portal. We found a small amount pooled inside a lone seashell, and dipped the bean into the waters. It was, of course, restored, and we were able to create our own portal. Cora transported us to the Roger, I threw the bean into the water, and we sailed through the portal, right into your quaint little harbor."
"That's quite the story."
"Ah, but one worth believing I think, unless you can supply your own version that would make sense."
She seemed to contemplate that for a moment, perhaps running various scenarios through her head that she thought might work. In a flash she dismissed it, and began to walk about the deck, seemingly fascinated with the array of foreign objects that surrounded her.
"Was there something specific you wanted to talk about, lass? Or did you just come to admire my mast?"
She turned around to see a look of pure innocence plastered across his face. He smiled as she let out a bark of laughter, a sound that he found himself hoping to hear again and again.
At the same time they both rearranged their features so they were each hidden behind their respective walls. They were both such similar creatures, he thought to himself, each with a softer, gentler side that they had worked so hard to hide from the world. What was it about her that made his persona slip every now and again; that made him smile as though he were some smitten schoolboy? All at once she made him drop his mask, and yet feel as though he needed to fix it more securely in place.
His mood soured again, and pushing away from the crate on which he leaned, he began to walk to the stern of his ship.
"You should go Swan," he tossed over his shoulder. "Wouldn't want Cora to come back and catch you here on your own, would you?"
"You'll let me know if you see her, won't you?" she asked. "Please Hook, you promised to help me protect Henry."
He stopped, and heard her take a few hesitant steps in his direction. "I'm not asking you to place yourself in danger," she continued, "But if you can, let me know what she's up to if you find anything out. Please."
He turned back to her and saw the pained look upon her face. "I'll do my best," he said with a curt nod. He turned and climbed the steps to the ship's wheel, placing his hands on the worn wood. He sighed, regretting his promise to help her even more than he had when he first made it the night before. He wanted to help her, he would admit that much, but it would complicate things to say the least. He turned back towards the prow, and to his relief, not a streak of blonde was in sight.
