Chapter 3

The Plight of a Sailor

This is a suicide mission. He knew that before he'd agreed to take her out of port. Sailing her alone was hard enough. Had he been any other member of her crew, it couldn't be done. But this was the Jewel. He knew every nook and cranny, every little quirk, every dent. He lived his entire life on this ship, under vastly different captains for sure, but she is his home.

Why did he agree to this?

The Captain is going to banish him, fire him. He will never again set foot on the Jewel, that is if he survives. The Captain once cut off the hands off a pirate who flirted with his woman. He made Killian quake in terror, and that was before he met her, the Dark Swan, before he hurt the guard, before he had made himself an enemy of the crown.

Killian doesn't know what he's feeling, other than sick. His head throbs, and he wants to curl up and scream. Sure, he had saved her. , he doesn't regret his actions, but still, he had hurt someone.

He's back on the Jewel at least. Maybe the familiar environment will provide some sort of comfort, even if it wasn't home to the most pleasant of memories lately.

He bandages his right hand clumsily with his left. The slash from where he held the dagger was long and deep along his palm, dripping blood on the Captain's table. While he is used to bandaging his own wounds, it isn't often that he has to do it one-handed.

He's not going to be happy when I get back , Killian shivered. And not just about the blood.

"Hey pirate, have any good rum in this boat?" asked the woman prancing in, interrupting his thoughts. He picks up his head to look at her, jaw dropping slightly.

Instead of the ratty blue dress she had been wearing, she'd stolen a pale yellow shirt from one of the cabins. It hangs far too low on her chest for his comfort. Beneath it, she is wearing brown leather pants, and over it, a dark blue leather vest that hugs her body more tightly than he thinks he can handle. Her hair looks tamer, held behind her head by a piece of rope. Her eyes are as wild as ever, just trained on him. She licked her lips slyly, obviously teasing him for staring. He averts his eyes, not wanting to appear rude.

Get it together, Jones.

"I haven't had a drink in months!" She prances past him, eyeing the Captain's liquor cabinet greedily.

"I w-wouldn't touch that!" he exclaims in near panic, reaching forward to stop her. There was nothing the captain hated more than someone touching his liquor. And if she does, he will surely be blamed.

His complaint falls on deaf ears, as she's already hunched over, hastily riffling through them bottles. He hears them clink together as she searches. "The Captain doesn't like it when someone messes with his rum," he tries once more.

She stands up, a bottle of amber colored rum in one hand, the other hand placed firmly on her hip as she looks at it skeptically. "Cheap stuff…" she mumbles unhappily, before her eyes shoot back to him. Killian shifts uncomfortably.

There is something about her eyes, those emerald eyes, that makes him feel exposed.

There is something about her that makes him feel like she is about to consume him on the spot.

"I thought you were the captain of this ship?" she questions. He feels his face turn red as he averts his eyes, choosing to focus on his cut hand rather than her, rather than on the fact that he isn't the captain she expected. He wishes he were though. He wishes the Jewel were sailing under his command and under her proper name.

"Ah…well…" he mumbles, trying to find the words. Her eyes lock on his, and in one quick movement, she steps closer and yanks his hand toward her face. He yelps in surprise. With a simple pull, she removes the bandages that he spent the last twenty minutes tying. His cut shoots pain up his arm. Killian bites his tongue, trying to keep at least a bit of his pride.

She smirks at his unsuccessful attempt at a brave face. She pours something on his hand. It stings painfully, and he tries to pull his hand back. He can't. It's trapped in her grip.

"What the hell is that?" he nearly shouts. It feels like she just set his hand ablaze!

"Rum," she informs him. "And a waste of it." She places the bottle on the desk (after a quick sip, of course), then wraps a new bandage around his hand, much more securely than he had managed. She releases his grip as soon as she finishes, reaching for a second gulp of rum. She takes a seat in the Captain's chair, putting her feet up on his desk.

"Now talk. Who are you? How did you know I was up there?"

The unspoken threat spins in her eyes. Not answering is not an option.

"Killian Jones," he introduces himself proudly, something he should have done earlier. He would have berated him for his bad form in inviting a woman onto the ship without at least telling her his name. But he' s not here.

"Not the captain," she adds, attempting to hand him the bottle. He refuses quickly out of habit.

It was often a trap, the other sailors trying to get him hammered for entertainment at his expense. Eventually he learned to say he was allergic, though truthfully, he just can't hold his liquor.

"No. Not the captain," he agrees darkly. Killian doesn't like to be reminded of that. "Nor the lieutenant, nor…any reputable position." She raises a brow but says nothing.

"As for how I knew you were there, everyone in the realm knows that. It's not a secret, I'm afraid." She doesn't look phased by the admission that her imprisonment was public knowledge, that everyone knew but no one else came to her rescue. "A stranger asked me to free you. I refused, not having a ship of my own, nor the skills required." He remembers leading the stranger to his captain's cabin, hearing whispers, and then the Captain ordering him inside.

"But the offer became something I could not refuse," Killian explained vaguely. "Not if I value my life." She chuckles, crossing her arms.

"Someone threatened to kill you if you didn't come save me? I doubt it," she huffs. "Try again," she says ominously, waving a mass of darkness in her palm. No stated threat is needed.

He shrugs, backing away. "Not in so many words," he corrects quickly. "And nothing so bloodthirsty. He just made it extremely difficult for me to return to my life unless I bring you back."

She tenses, gripping the rum bottle, her magic flickering from her other hand as quickly as she conjured it. "Make no mistake, love, you are not my prisoner, not that I could keep you if I wanted. He just wants to meet you in our port."

She smiles slyly, rising from her chair. She appears to find something he said amusing. She is stepping toward him, getting dangerously close. "And do you, not-captain Jones? Want me?" she purrs.

Killian, backed into the wall, turns red, visibly scrambling for a respectful, yet not insinuating reply. His discomfort makes her laugh wildly, her hand brushing against his arm.

"I…er…well…" he steps around her, nearly tripping on his feet. He can't think of an appropriate response.

"I have to go man the helm. I've left it unattended far too long," he excuses, relieved when she lets him pass.

"Fine Jones, ruin all my fun. I'll figure you out eventually," she says. "In the meantime, I think a celebration is in order!" He doesn't look back to see what that means. He assumes drinking and messing with the Captain's things.

That lass is trouble. He just needs to stay strong, resist her until they reach port. Then she'll be on her way, and hopefully, the Captain won't decide to kill him.

That's all he can hope for.

By the time he reaches the helm and grips the wheel, his tension is already easing. He remembers learning to sail when he was but a lad, running around the deck bothering all the sailors with questions. He had been happy then. He had been so happy.

Killian's thoughts wander to her, the Dark Swan. Had she been happy once? Had she been free? Legend and lore told of villages she slayed, people she took in the dead of night, manipulating their hearts and souls only to kill them in front of their loved ones.

The stories never spoke of how she walks with confidence, how she commands attention, how she wields a weapon. The tales never captured how angry and hurt she was in the tower, how brilliantly she fought for freedom.

He had once said that a woman worth having was a woman who fought for what she wanted, never interested in those who let men tell them who they were. Killian still remembers the times he would be out courting a woman, his true love according to the man. Killian heard that the love was forbidden, but he never cared. He was a pirate and pirates took what they wanted.

If he had been here, he wouldn't have backed away from the Dark One's challenge.

But Killian isn't him.

So when the Dark One asked him what he wanted, he couldn't answer. He couldn't tell her, because he didn't know. He isn't even brave enough to know in his heart what he wants, let alone to take it.

Killian is a bloody coward.

A noise makes him look up from the spot on the deck he was staring a hole through.

"What the-." His words die in his throat as someone reach into his chest.

"Oooh. Let's see what we've got here."

I can't believe the response I'm getting, the follows and favorites!

So I figured why not, let's get this story going!

And the season isn't going to change major things, but the new characters and back stories are a good source of inspiration.

And Captain Swan moments...those are intense lately.

8/20/17: Beta read by notoriouscs

~Luna