Chapter 3

It had been a long time since Killian had been this drunk.

He swaggered along the docks at a leisurely pace, swaying from side to side as he went. The moon hung high in the sky above him, lighting his way as he passed the ships. Their hulls seemed to beckon to him, calling out his name.

He passed them one by one, surveying them with a critical eye. And at each one, he slurred slowly, "You're not the Jolly Roger...you're not the Jolly Roger...Damn it! W-Where's me Jolly Roger?"

Eventually, he found himself sunk down on a bench, awkwardly sprawled out with a large bottle of rum cradled in his lap. It was settled against his leather jacket, almost three-fourths of the way gone. The remaining liquid sloshed back and forth with each breath Killian took.

He began to nod off, but when his head slumped forward, he immediately snapped back up. He looked down at the rum, as though he couldn't remember how it had gotten there. He asked it angrily, "Whot the bloody 'ell are you doing here, mate? I didn't invite you." Then, Killian began to absurdly laugh at his own joke, his guffaws drowning out the sound of the water behind him.

In all honesty, though, Killian couldn't remember what had driven him to his current state of inebriation. If he had been sober, maybe he would've remembered the hour-long internal debate he'd had with himself outside of the crocodile's pawn shop. He would have remembered going back and forth between his mind and his heart, trying to consider what was right. He couldn't decide whether to reveal himself to Emma. On the one hand, if the crocodile had been lying about her relief at his death, she would surely be thrilled to have him back. However, if the bloody Dark One had been telling the truth, then Killian couldn't be selfish by intruding on her life when she didn't want him there. Frustrated at his situation, he'd gone and found himself two bottles of rum. The first one was half gone before he'd even decided to take a walk at the docks.

Since he was so slobbering drunk, however, none of that permeated his brain. The only thing on his mind was the bench beneath him and the ships around him.

"Emma who?" he asked himself bitterly, taking a large swing from the glass bottle. He laughed again, but the movement was so forceful that it caused him to tumble from the bench. He landed upon the planks of wood with a loud thud.

He lay there somberly, his lower lip jutting out. "That hurt." he whined to himself. He rolled over until he was beneath the bench, and then curled up so that he was hidden from sight. The bottle of rum was shattered and spilled only a few feet beside him.

"This is just what I get," he murmured drunkenly, shaking his head. "I almost died and my bloody rum won't even cooperate! Damn it all!"

Then, Killian's eyes flitted closed, and he began to sleep heavily. It was going to be quite a long night.

The sheriff's office had been getting calls for almost twenty minutes, but David had been out and hadn't heard them. When he got back, the phone had just begun to ring again, and he dashed quickly to answer it.

"Hello?" he asked breathlessly. It was nearly eleven o'clock, and he desperately wanted to be at home with his wife and daughter, the latter of whom he was concerned about. No matter how brave she always tried to be, she'd just witnessed the death of someone she cared about, and she must have needed someone to lean on. David wanted to be one of the people she could count on if she needed them.

"Sheriff?" asked a gruff voice on the other end. David recognized it as belonging to Leroy.

"Hey, Leroy," he replied tiredly. "What's up?"

"Sorry to bug you so late," said Leroy, not sounding very sorry at all. "But there's someone at the docks that I think you should come take care of."

David laughed a little to himself. "People are allowed to be at the docks, Leroy, it's a public place."

"Yeah, but this guy's drunk off his ass and passed out beneath a bench. I can only see a hand." Leroy chuckled a bit before continuing. "I've been there before, and I wish someone would've been there to haul me out."

"That's very thoughtful Leroy," chuckled David. "I'll be out after him in a minute. Thanks for the tip."

"No problem." and then, Leroy hung up. David put the phone down as well, picked his keys up from where he'd tossed them on the desk, and bolted back out the door. If he hurried, he could be home before the hour was up.

Emma Swan was having a beautiful dream. At least, it started that way.

She and Killian were walking down the sidewalk by Granny's, hand in hand. The sun was just starting to set, casting a perfect glow upon Storybrooke. They were talking about nothing in particular; Emma wasn't even listening to Killian's words. She was just staring at his lips, watching them move with each word he spoke. They turned slightly upwards into his signature smirk, and Emma's heart soared. He was so handsome.

"I love you," Emma said suddenly, interrupting Killian mid-sentence. He stared at her with wide eyes. "Did you know that?"

Killian's shock faded, and he smiled sadly at Emma. "Yeah, I did actually."

Emma was disappointed; it was her first time telling him, and he wouldn't even say it back. "Oh." she said, letting the topic drop. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

Killian forced her to meet his eyes, and he said seriously, "As I recall, you spoke those very words to me before my untimely demise, love."

Emma laughed nervously, staring at Killian in confusion. "Killian, what are you talking ab-"

"I'm not really here." said Killian, his eyes shining with tears. He grabbed Emma's shoulders and shook them a bit, conveying his frustration. "You knew that, didn't you? I died. You were there, Swan. You were there and you didn't save me. True love's kiss didn't work. You left me to die. It was your fault, Swan. Your fault. You let me get close to you."

"I tried to tell you not to," tried Emma pathetically, wiping away tears from her eyes and trying to turn from Killian's hard, blaming gaze. But his grip on her was strong, and he forced her to face her guilt.

"You didn't try hard enough, love." And then she was falling, falling...

Emma Swan woke up in a cold sweat. Even in her dreams she found no comfort; the tears began before she even opened her eyes.

David arrived at the docks in record time; he may have sped through town a bit too fast, but no one else was driving at this hour, anyway.

He removed the flashlight from his belt, and turned it on, the bright beam of light guiding him through the deserted, darkened street. The street lamps were lit, but they didn't cover every area, and the bench that Leroy had told him about just so happened to be bathed in shadows.

David walked at a brisk pace towards the bench in question, which was stationed just in front of where the ships were docked. David shined his flashlight towards the ground below the bench, and saw the large figure who was undoubtedly his man. He approached him cautiously, aware that if he was as inebriated as he looked, he could be dangerous. When David reached him, he bent down to his level, and tapped him on his only slightly visible shoulder.

"Hey, buddy?" asked David quietly, shaking the man a bit. "Wakey, wakey."

The man did not even stir. David tried again, louder this time.

"Hey, buddy. Time to get up. It's too cold to be out, come on with me."

The man groaned, and David sighed; he would try one final time.

"Hey! Come on, get up!"

That seemed to do the trick. The man began grumbling as he rolled over to face David. "Not nice to wake a man who's trying to sleep, mate."

David's face paled with shock; he knew that voice. He knew that voice all too well. And the man it belonged to was supposed to be dead.

Hook's face appeared beneath the beam of David's flashlight, and upon being exposed to the brightness of it, he thrust his hook in front of his face.

"Oy, mate! Turn that bloody thing off!"

In shock, the flashlight slipped from David's grip. Completely on auto-pilot, he helped Hook out from beneath the bench, and watched as the pirate before him stood unsteadily on his feet. David didn't miss the crunching sound beneath him when he moved, and looked down to see a broken bottle of rum smashed upon the ground.

"I see Leroy wasn't kidding about you being drunk," said David lightly, attempting humor to try and ease his nerves. He had no idea what was going on.

Hook groaned, and glared at David from beneath dark brows. "Unfortunately, I have sobered enough to remember why I was drunk in the first place."

"Oh?" asked David, his voice slightly too high. Hook raised an eyebrow at him, but didn't question him, for which David was thankful. "And why was that?"

Hook ran his good hand through his hair, the action moving aside his jacket enough so that David could see the bloody, stained shirt beneath it. He held back a shocked gasp. Hook sighed, "Well, that is a marvelous question, isn't it?"

"One that I would love to know the answer to," said David, his shock beginning to wear off. It was being replaced with anger. "Another good question would be: how are you alive?"

Hook started laughing; clearly he wasn't completely sober. He was still chortling when he said, "That's priceless, mate. And here I was thinking you of all people would be glad to have me out of the way. You know, so I wouldn't pillage and plunder your daughter."

It took all of David's self-control not to punch Hook in the face for his last comment, so he decided to focus on the first part of it. He responded to Hook's beliefs by saying, "You thought I would be happy that my daughter's miserable?"

The smirk was wiped right from Hook's face. His eyes regained the smallest bit of clarity and widened. He stammered, "She's miserable? Without me?" He looked like he didn't dare believe those words were true. He looked...fragile.

"Are you really that blind, Hook?" asked David in utter disbelief. Because surely the pirate couldn't be serious?

"Not blind, mate," breathed Hook, beginning to get anxious. He looked around, for the first time noticing his location. He seemed to be trying to figure out what the fastest route to Emma would be. "Not blind," he repeated absent-mindedly. "It was just...something the crocodile said..."

"Rumplestiltskin?" asked David, eyes widening. "And you believed him?"

"Aye, mate. Not my sharpest moment, I admit." Hook began to walk away from David, but in the direction of the sheriff's cruiser. David picked up his flashlight, and proceeded to run to catch up with Hook's pace.

"Hey," said David, grabbing Hook's shoulder and turning him around. Hook looked more than irritated at being delayed. "You still didn't answer how the hell you're alive?"

Hook rolled his eyes. "Long story," he brushed off, breaking away from David and walking to the passenger side of the car. He knocked on the door with his hook and said, "I'll be more than glad to explain on the way."

Author's Note: Thank you all so much for the lovely comments! I really appreciate them a lot. As well as the favorites and follows :) I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter! Quite soon, the plot will be picking up. I'm really enjoying the build-up to the Captain Swan reunion, but I do have plans for the story after that so I would love for you guys to stick around! If you read, please review - they truly make my day :) Thanks guys!