When last we met, Lieutenant Jones of the Royal Navy had just made his appearance...

Chapter Three

Emma put her hands on either side of his face and forced him to look at her. "Killian, I need you to calm down so I can explain and I promise you I can. You're safe."

"My hand," he said, still wide-eyed, angry tears falling down his cheeks and he sounded so young and lost. Killian never talked about what it meant to him, although she knew one of the rings he wore belonged to a man he'd killed for calling him One-Hand Jones. He didn't kill people anymore for it, but she'd seen it still rankled when people like Regina made remarks. She hated to admit she'd made a few catty remarks herself.

"Killian, I need you to think," she said quietly. "Does it hurt?"

"I… No?" He roughly scrubbed the tears from his face, his chest still heaving. "I… I can feel my hand, but… I can't feel it? That makes no sense. Bloody hell, what happened?" he demanded, his voice rising again.

"You lost your hand in battle," Emma replied, keeping her voice low and even. "It happened a long time ago."

"A battle?" he asked, seeming even more alarmed. "But… I don't… Surely, I would remember."

She was surprised by how young and relatively innocent he seemed. Hook would have required more than her word when he was in such a situation. She knew how hard Killian's childhood had been. Well, she'd guessed. Now she wondered how hard Liam had worked to shelter his brother from as much ugliness as he could.

"You will remember," Emma said with all the confidence she could muster. It was just going to be a little more complicated now that she knew this was a magic problem and not just an injury. "I think there's something going on with the ship."

"The ship?" Killian's eyes scanned over the ship. "I… Liam," he cleared his throat, "the Captain would never tolerate…" He frowned. "What's happened to the Jewel? She looks…" His eyes landed on her once again, begging for an explanation.

"This isn't the Jewel," Emma hedged. It was mostly true. She hadn't been the Jewel in a very long time.

His eyes narrowed, and he clenched his jaw in anger. He scrambled awkwardly away from her, nearly falling when he tried to use his hook as if he still had a hand to push off the deck and it slid out from under him. "Do you think me a simpleton?" he bit out, swaying badly on his feet. "I know my own ship. What have you done to her? The Jewel is a ship of the line. She would never be rigged like this. Liam would never…"

Emma held up her hands to stop the developing tirade. "She used to be the Jewel, but her name was changed years ago."

"By whom?" he demanded. "Ships do not simply change their names on a whim."

"You changed it when you became her captain."

"I…" He blinked. "That's… not possible." He began pacing back and forth, swaying so badly Emma was afraid he was going to fall. "Liam…" He crossed his arms, huddling in on himself, but he'd forgotten his hook and the sight of it startled him badly.

Killian uncrossed his arms, but he wasn't used to the hook, and dragged the sharp point along the length of his forearm, slicing jacket and skin open neatly. He cried out in alarm as blood began to seep from the wound.

Emma sprang to her feet and hurried toward him. Her hand began to shake, but she powered through it. She had absolutely no time for her issues right now, not one single second. She passed her hand over his arm, quickly healing the gash and removing any evidence of what had happened.

The incident had taken only seconds, but it seemed to further stupefy him to the point that Emma was afraid he was going into shock. "Killian? Can you hear me?"

Rather than answer, he sank down, sitting on the stairs that led up to the helm. "This isn't right," he muttered. "Doesn't… feel right." He closed his eyes tightly. "I know this ship. She's…" He opened them again and looked directly at her. "I know you."

Emma knelt in front of him. "How is the ship different?" she asked in an effort to force him to see the ship in her present state, rather than when she was Liam's pride and joy.

"She's older," he answered and Emma smirked. He had no idea.

"She's seen more wear, more action." Killian, too, had definitely seen more wear and more action. For a second, she wished she was talking to a certain pirate rather than a lieutenant. He'd have had a field day coming up with a lovely innuendo-laced addition to that observation.

Killian's brow furrowed. "She's set up for an engagement at sea. I… I was in a battle. Are we still at war?"

Emma pursed her lips in a tight smile. "Not at this second anyway."

"No." He brought his hand up and pulled at his hair, frustrated. "We are. The… Evil Queen. I… My head…"

His tone. It was Killian again, her Killian.

"I'm here," she said, desperate to soothe him somehow. "I'm right here."

As soon as she said it, she felt it again, the ripple of magic. It raced across his skin, the edges of it just brushing against her senses.

Instinctively, she tried to brace herself for whatever was coming. He straightened. His expression hardened, his eyes no longer confused innocence, but flinty and angry. In a flash, his fingers clamped around her bicep like a vise and his hook was at her throat, the point just pricking at her skin.

His tone was heartbreakingly cold. "Who are you and what are you doing on my ship?"

Emma wasn't sure whether she wanted to swear or cry. When she felt a tear trail down her cheek, she knew her body had apparently made the decision without her say so, and was irrationally angry at herself for letting it happen. She was just so tired, and it felt as if she was losing control of everything, her own body, her magic, and now Killian. She could feel her hand begin to shake and cursed her mess of a mind. Archie's sessions weren't helping at all.

This was all happening at exactly the wrong time. The vision felt like a weight on her chest and she just didn't want to do this without Killian. She needed his hand in hers. She needed his little nod of encouragement, his constant reassurance when her walls or her doubts started to get in the way. His death had left a gaping hole in her life where he was supposed to be. This, having him in front of her, but still having him gone, was bringing back that feeling that resulted in some of the darkest hours of her life. That blackness had nearly overwhelmed her and those feelings were creeping back with every second her Killian was missing.

"I'm a pirate, love, and you're a stowaway. It will take more than a few tears to save you."

"I'm not a stowaway," she said, her tone as cold as his. "You invited me here."

He huffed in disbelief. "Try again, darling. My ship doesn't want you on board and neither do I."

Emma frowned. "You said something like that earlier. What does that even mean?"

"It means exactly what it means, love. She doesn't like you." He cocked his head to the side, studying her. He pulled the hook away from her neck, but didn't release his bruising grip on her arm. "Which is interesting in and of itself."

"Why?" Emma tried to jerk her arm free, but he held tight. She knew how strong he was. She definitely didn't like that strength being used against her.

"I'm the one asking questions," he snapped. "What realm is this? The stars are different."

"You're in Storybrooke. Now you wanna let go of my arm so we can talk like two civilized people?"

His grip only tightened. "Not until I know what the bloody hell is going on. Where are my men?"

"Some live here, some you left in the Enchanted Forest."

"What?" he asked in genuine confusion.

Emma used it to her advantage. She hated to do it, but Killian would never forgive himself if he hurt her and she wouldn't like it that much either. Using an open palm, she slammed the heel of her hand it into his breastbone. She knew from experience how much it hurt and Killian instinctively released her.

"You'll pay for that," he spat. He began looking around him for something to use as a weapon.

Emma put several healthy feet of space between them and held her hands up in front of her, aiming them like a weapon. "Don't move, pirate. I have magic and I will be more than happy to use it if that's what it takes to wake you up."

He stood up from the stairs to face her head on. His eyes narrowed. "I've already faced the worst that magic has to offer. Go ahead. You can't do any worse than's already been done to me."

Emma could feel the anger, the absolute fury, burning through him. How he had sustained it for hundreds of years was amazing. Did the man do anything by halves?

"I don't want to hurt you," she said evenly. "You just don't know what's happening and I don't want you to do anything too-"

"If you're worried for my soul, lass, it's a lost cause." He gave her a very definite onceover from top to bottom. "I've grown rather fond of dastardly behavior."

Emma rolled her eyes. Leave it to Hook to give her lecherous glances while simultaneously threatening to murder her. "When you wake up, I am never letting you live this down," she muttered.

"What?"

Emma was getting tired of explaining again and again. "Look, you fell." She pointed to the spot several feet away. "You hit your head and you're having memory issues."

"Bollocks. I know perfectly well who I am."

"You've lived here for years. You don't go… swashbuckling anymore. No murder, no mayhem, well, not that you cause, well, except for last year, but, that wasn't really you…"

"What are you going on about?"

"You live here. You help me and my family keep the peace, as much as that's possible. You're one of the good guys. Even my dad likes you now and he's a prince. You're friends."

Killian growled. "I wouldn't spit on a royal if he were on fire, let alone befriend one."

"Well, that's… colorful. Wait 'til I tell him. I heard him say he was going to knight you if you ticked him off again, just to give you a heart attack."

"I can't tell if you're mad, or…"

Emma shrugged. "I'm not nuts."

"Then try making some bloody sense!" he bellowed.

He raised his hook and without thinking, Emma waved her hand. The hook disappeared from his wrist and reappeared in her open palm. He leaned forward as if to charge her, but another tiny whiff of magic kept him from moving.

"Let me go!" His jaw clenched and he snarled, "And give that back. It is unwise to toy with a man's h…" He trailed off and for several seconds, he remained frozen, simply staring at her. She could tell he was thinking furiously, the lines around his mouth and eyes giving away that his head was hurting badly again. "Why… why did that sound… familiar?"

"Because you've said it before, sort of."

"I don't…" He shook his head. That apparently made his head hurt worse. He lost all color and staggered sideways.

Emma tossed the hook behind her and heard it clank on the deck as she hurried forward to catch him before he could faceplant. She grabbed him under his arms and eased him down until he was once again sitting, propped against the side of the ship. It seemed her evening had been spent popping up and down, sitting, standing, kneeling. She was starting to feel like she was caught in a game of whack-a-mole.

"Get away from me, witch," he slurred. He looked dizzy and a bit green.

"I'll admit I have my days, but that's no reason to be rude."

He began to shove at her weakly. "Should've killed you the second I found you. Bloody ship's smarter than I am," he muttered under his breath.

"That does it." Wonky magic and shaking hand or not, Emma gathered her magic and transported them both to her house.

Killian landed on the sofa with an "Ooof!" and without asking for his permission she raised his feet and forced him to lie down.

"You, just… stay there until your head calms down. I think… I think your ship is messing with you for some weird reason and I wanna know why."

"She would never-"

"Killian, just shut it, will you?"

"How… how do you know my name?"

"Were you listening at all?" she said in frustration.

"I've gone mad," he muttered. "I've finally gone stark raving mad." He closed his eyes. "Only to be expected, I suppose. Pan promised he'd pay me back. Probably in his camp right now and I can't tell the bloody difference. That little bastard Toots has probably-"

"Killian!" Emma snapped, trying to stop the flow of words.

He turned to her, barely banked anger in his eyes. "Apparently, I am at your mercy, witch." He raised an eyebrow. "You may have your way with me."

Emma clenched her hands into fists, silently counting in her head while her desire to hit him warred with her waning patience. "You've said several times your ship doesn't like me. What makes you say that?"

"A captain knows his ship like the back of his hand." He smirked. "I've only the one, so I'm doubly attentive." He cleared his throat when she put her hands on her hips and simply continued to glare at him. "You were trespassing," he said through clenched teeth. "Something few have dared to even attempt."

"Not good enough," she shot back. "You meant more than that. I could tell."

"I couldn't say, love. I'm all askew." He held up his empty brace. "I asked you to unhand me, but instead you disarmed me."

Emma gave him a smile that said, "Aren't you clever," and "Screw you, buddy," at the same time. "Well, as you pointed out, you've only got one hand. Seemed cruel to take that one, too."

Killian gave her his own version of the smile. He sat up slowly and looked around the room. "Where are we? This doesn't look like any realm I know."

"My house. Now stop dodging the question. I want to know about the ship."

"Then you should have asked politely instead of stowing away and then kidnapping her captain."

"Oh, this is polite. Otherwise, you'd be in cuffs."

"Cuffs?" He raised his arm, and frowned at the clothing he was wearing. "This realm apparently has no appreciation for the finer things."

Emma rolled her eyes again. Of course, Captain Hook would miss his loose-cuffed linen shirts. It made her wonder if he really did miss his old shirts and just tolerated his modern clothing.

"You'd be in shackles," she clarified.

"Ah, like that sort of thing, do you, darling?"

"Not my fault your charming personality means I keep having to tie you up."

"I'm afraid that simply won't do. Pirates are rather set on their freedom, you see. I never really cared for-" He paused and cocked his head to one side, as she'd seen him do several times before when something jogged his memory. His shoulders hunched and he began to curl in on himself. "Why were we… there was a… beanstalk. Ah!" He cried out and bent forward, cradling his head in his hand.

"Killian?" Emma hurried forward and didn't hesitate to wrap her arms around him. "It's gonna be ok. Come on." She brushed her hand through his hair. Maybe, now that they were away from the ship, he would finally remember. "Come back to me."

She felt more than saw him move and looked up just in time to see him grab the decorative glass bowl from the coffee table and swing. It connected with her head and the next thing she knew she was lying on the floor staring at the ceiling.

Killian's handsome face appeared in her line of vision, smirk firmly in place. "Guess you should've gone with the shackles, love."

The light began to fade and Emma knew she was going to pass out. The last thing she heard was the front door closing behind him as he left.

Poor Killian's certainly not going to like it when he remembers. More soon…