A/N: I know, I know. Everyone's worried about Emma right now. But there's a part of the story that Emma can't tell, and it's a part that NEEDS to be told before we continue. So I give you the first of a few POV switches in this fic (and I really hope I did our pirate justice).

This chapter is Justice. Justice places a huge emphasis on choices, wrong and right, good and bad, and the balance. There was no other way for this chapter to go. This chapter COULDN'T belong to anyone other than the man who's been seeking revenge. This is a grim, dark chapter. Things are bleak as hell. But we've still got miles to go …

Also, there is a nod to my favorite theory pertaining to Hook in this chapter, so hopefully you guys catch it! I have to go with it. I believe it too much not to. ;)

Chapter Eleven
Justice
"This is the end. Hold your breath and count to ten … "

It was a distraction. He told himself, over and over again, when he'd first gotten to this strange realm, and every day since coming here, that he needed to focus.

He'd waited so many years to get here.

And yet it had all fallen apart the very first time he'd looked into her sad grey eyes. He was used to getting what he wanted. But she made him work for everything, and she never gave an inch. She was exasperating, she was irritating, she was bloody obnoxious…

She was making him feel … better.

300 years. He'd been waiting for literal centuries to be right where he was now, and at night, when he was alone, he tried to remind himself of that fact. That blasted Crocodile of his had taken his hand, had taken Milah …

But then he'd close his eyes. And it wasn't be Milah's bright, laughing blue eyes that waited for him in dreams, not any more.

Had two women ever been more different?

Milah had always been laughing, always ready with a quip or a teasing remark, freely affectionate and openly loving. Her sky blue eyes always danced, as if she knew some delicious secret that she wasn't going to share with you.

Emma's eyes were lonely and sad, grey and green, the sea after a storm. Her smiles were rare — guarded, careful things, as though she thought if she smiled too brightly, she'd be giving too much of herself away. But somehow that made them special. If she smiled at you, it was because you'd bloody well earned it. You'd put in a crack in that wall of hers, even if only for a second. She didn't open up to just anyone, and she didn't give affection easily. He knew that even just reaching out to touch him required her to take a huge risk with her heart.

It was funny, how she could make him feel like he'd discovered a cache of jewels just by gracing him with the barest of grins. Never in his life, never, had a woman made him feel so completely out of his element. Just being in her vicinity made him feel anxious. Charm didn't work on that one. Oh, sometimes he'd catch the corners of her lips twitching upward at something he said, but Emma … his Emma craved honesty, more than anything. And so he was honest with her. For the first time, possibly ever, every word he said to her was the truth, whether she believed it or not.

He had loved Milah. He would always love Milah, for a time, he had believed her to be his true love. He'd thought it impossible to ever feel again what he'd felt for her, the woman who had given up everything to follow him.

He knew that Emma would never do that. She'd die before she'd leave her boy, he'd seen firsthand how she'd fought tooth and nail to get back to Henry. If Killian left Storybrooke, she wouldn't follow him. It would break her heart, but she wouldn't go.

No. He couldn't compare the two women, not like that. There was nothing to compare. They were each their own person, and they were part of two different lifetimes, or so it seemed. There was no merging. Milah was the past, and Emma … well …

She wouldn't be the first woman he'd been with since Milah's death — not by a long shot. But Emma was no mere dalliance. She wasn't some wench there to make him forget for an hour or two.

The fanciful part of his brain told him she might just be his second chance.

But he needed to put the past to rest, finally. He knew better than to think the things he felt for her were fleeting, or that they'd disappear if he ignored them. But he couldn't give her what she needed, not until he got what he'd come here for originally.

He'd bloody well have his revenge on the blasted Crocodile — the demon didn't deserve to go unpunished, and he hadn't waited this long for nothing.

All these thoughts were running through his head as he waited for Emma's return. He needed to tell her, he needed to be honest with her. He only hoped he could remember the resolve he was feeling now when she was with him, when the scent of lavender in her hair wasn't overwhelming his senses and making him weak in the knees.

She deserved better.

And then he heard her.

At first, he thought the wind had picked up again, but when he raised his head to glance out the window, he saw her burst through the treeline, her expression frantic. He frowned … she was bleeding, there was a scrape on her cheek, and she was limping, as though she'd hurt herself.

"What in hell … " he muttered, brow knitting as he stood then, moving toward the door.

And then he heard it.

"Killian!"

She was screaming, and the sound seized at his heart. What on earth was wrong with her? He'd never heard her so emotional. As he drew closer to the door, the window, he could see the fear all over her face.

Fear.

She cried out his name again, and he heard her voice break.

Was she on the verge of tears?

She was afraid. Afraid for him.

"Emma," he breathed, reaching for the door, wanting her to see him, wanting her to know it was okay, that whatever she was afraid of, it wasn't necessary. He all but yanked the door open, eyes widening in horror when he saw the dark vortex that surrounded her.

"No!" he cried out. "Emma!" He started to run for her, hoping to reach her, to pull her out, something, Gods be damned, anything but what was happening. "Emma!"

Suddenly something stopped him cold in his tracks, he couldn't move, he could barely breathe. "What foul magic is this?" he choked out, immobilized and unable to look around for his assailant.

Though he had a pretty good guess.

Rumplestiltskin came into view then — or, rather, Mr. Gold, as they called him here. He still used his cane — funny, you'd think the creature would magic himself a leg that actually worked after all this time — and he looked not at all like the demon Killian remembered so vividly.

"What have you done with her?" he wheezed, the hands of whatever dark magic Gold was using tightening around his throat. "She's innocent, you bloody bastard, she's nothing to do with this!"

"Oh, that's where you're quite wrong, dearie," Gold said menacingly. "She's been protecting you for weeks now. Don't think I don't know everything that goes on in this town. Don't think I don't know why you're here."

"This fight is between you and me!" Killian gasped, the invisible hands tightened around his throat more. "Why bring her into it?"

"She brought herself into it when she allied herself with you," Gold snapped, his mouth a thin line. "Does she even know the truth about Milah? Did you give her the sob story about how I killed your lady love?" He giggled maniacally. "Does she know you stole her from me first?"

"You know she came with me willingly." Killian managed a cocksure smirk, wanting to anger Gold enough into doing something stupid. He needed to distract him, he needed just a moment …

Gold smacked him, hard, across the face, hard enough that Killian spat blood and a bit of tooth out onto the ground at the demon's feet. Killian's eyes were dangerous now, dark and furious, his expression full of contempt.

"I will kill you," he said, his voice low and feral. "Stop using your magic tricks and let's have a go of it, you bastard."

Gold smiled then, and Killian didn't like what it heralded. It was too bright, too eager, too … everything.

"Well, dearie, that's exactly what I'm here for!" Gold said cheerfully, giving an exaggerated bow. "To give you the chance to do what it is you've just been dying to do … get your revenge."

Killian didn't say anything, just narrowed his eyes. He felt the tendrils of magic receding from him, his limbs becoming mobile again. He started to lunge for Gold then, only to be stopped once more.

"Ah, ah, ah … did I forget to mention the catch?"

Killian gritted his teeth. At this point, he could see no downside to snapping the bastard's neck.

"I offer you this one chance, no retaliation, to do what you will. Whatever will make you feel better," Gold said. "However … " He turned his attention to the still-swirling portal that Emma had fallen through only moments ago. Killian felt his blood turn to ice as he watched it shrink before his eyes.

"If you do, Emma Swan will never be able to return to Storybrooke." Gold giggled gleefully again.

"Where did you send her?" Killian asked through gritted teeth.

"Someplace you know quite well," Gold said. "Someplace you know there's only one way out of."

"The blasted pixies," Killian said, feeling his heart sink more with every second.

"And you know how fickle they are." Gold tsked sadly. "How they're only willing to help certain people." He gave Killian a pointed look, which the pirate chose to ignore.

"They won't help her." It wasn't a question, it was a fact.

"They'll help you though, won't they, Killian?" Gold said, putting weight on the name, as if he knew a secret.

"Aye," he whispered, feeling drained, feeling weary, feeling tired. With every second that passed, the portal grew smaller.

The choice Gold was offering him was no choice at all. If he followed Emma … he wouldn't be able to return. There was a finite amount of magic the pixies were capable of, and that was only if they were willing to help him in the first place.

He could get Emma home.

But he'd lose his chance at revenge against Gold. The only chance he'd ever have.

And he'd lose Emma.

But if he stayed, if he took his revenge, he'd already lost her anyway.

He'd waited three-hundred sodding years for this moment …

"You hesitate … " Gold said, smirking cruelly. "Emma would be so disappointed. After the way she came running after you … all it took was telling her you were hurt … "

That's why she'd been so frantic. That's why she'd been running, almost crying, screaming out his name.

"What'll it be, then?" Gold asked then. "Revenge … or the girl? Tick tock, dearie, time's running out." And he shrunk the portal again.

All he'd ever wanted was to avenge Milah's death, and the loss of his hand. But it wouldn't bring back his hand, and it certainly wouldn't bring back Milah.

Killian had a sudden flash then. Emma, falling asleep with her head resting against his chest last night, curled up there like she belonged there. And then her smile as she'd left that morning. Bright, brighter than the bloody sun, the brightest smile he'd ever seen from her — and it was for him. The scent of lavender permeated his senses then, and he remembered the sounds she made when he kissed her. Hadn't he only last night promised her he'd never hang her out to dry like the wanker before had done?

He'd done a lot of bloody rotten things in his life, and he probably deserved everything Gold dished out to him, and then some.

But if he only did one thing right … Gods, let it be this.

At least maybe … just maybe … it might get his girl to trust someone again.

Gods, this was going to hurt like hell.

"Bloody buggering fuck," he growled, shoving Gold out of the way roughly and diving into what remained of the portal.