Killian let the door swing shut, and continued laughing as he climbed the stairs to meet the crew on deck. This woman was different from many he had encountered. Most women who were obviously beautiful walked as though the world was theirs. This lass seemed to care less about how others perceived her. How else could she have masqueraded as a man on his ship.

That was another one of her virtues. She was cunning as hell. Had to have gumption as well to risk life and limb.

As much as he didn't want to admit it to himself, he was intrigued by this girl. Fighting skills like hers had to have been developed over a length of time. He hadn't met someone as mysterious as she in years. Though lucky for him her emotions were written across her face as clear as they would be on parchment.

There was little doubt in his mind that she could handle herself on The Jolly Roger. He had to admit that even after his proclamation to the crew she would most likely be accosted or harassed, actions he was confident she would quickly ward off.

He rose to the top deck still deep in thought, snapped out of his reverie as he caught sight of his anxious crew. Many had looks of guilt, he guessed because they had not intervened when Vance and Rack had attacked Emma. However the reason his ship was efficient was not only his cruelty but his fairness, and to punish all of his men would be superfluous and over the top.

"Men, convene at center deck!" he shouted, voice booming.

When all of his men were at attention, the theatrics began.

He pasted a cocky and smug look on his face and with a smirk said, "As we all know, a woman was on our ship, unbeknownst to us. However, rather than punish her, I have found other, much more satisfactory uses." At this he threw a wink to the crowd, and the men responded with catcalls and laughs. "But let me make myself clear. This woman is mine. Any of you lot touch her, even brush against an arm, and you will regret it. And as we saw with Vance and Rack earlier today, those who disobey my orders will suffer severe consequences."

His tone had turned threatening, but inwardly he was relieved when his men simply nodded and in light tones said, "Yes, Captain", "Of course, Captain."

"Alright men, back to your stations. This storm steered us far from our course, and we should try to reach Violet Hill before the end of the month."

The hustling of his men and the sound of wind filling the sails caused a great peacefulness to settle in Killian's chest. He was an adventurer, and the ocean made him feel more alive than anything else in the world.

However his brief moment of reprieve vanished when his thoughts drifted to their destination, and the reality of his mission once again gripped his heart, filling it with malice and sinister satisfaction. After hundreds of years, he was finally going to achieve his revenge. Watching his crocodile bleed out with his heart caught on Killian's hook would be the greatest moment of his life. As years had gone by he had started to lose pieces of Milah. He couldn't remember which side she had parted her hair on, or her favorite colors and foods. The guilt of letting his love's memory fade had pushed him to the brink of insanity before he discovered the truth of the dagger that he could finally kill The Dark One with.

Now that he finally had an outlet to channel his rage into, he had just started to fall back into his routine of his pirate's life. Drinking, stealing, and causing general mayhem for the kingdom to deal made him feel in control of his life once more; he had thought he had everything figured out.

And then this Swan girl was thrown herself into his life. She was an enigma he was far from solving. He was determined to figure her out. He had not been lying when he had told her that if she wanted him, he'd be waiting. A good shag was always welcome on the ship, where he would go weeks without female company. The issue was that after his one night stands he could drop them back off in town and sail off. There never had to be any significance.

This would definitely be tricky. She seemed headstrong, but he loved a challenge. Bedding her might solve the riddle that was Emma Swan. He only hoped that they would be somewhere near a port town when he finally succeeded. Keeping the women he slept with around felt intimate, personal, and Killian knew he wasn't capable of ever loving again.

He was absentmindedly stroking his tattoo with his hook when Starkey approached him. Starkey was always a confidant and had not betrayed his trust in the multiple lifetimes they had known one another. Starkey sat on a barrel beside Killian, and with a sigh he sat down on one as well.

Starkey had a small smile on his face, an expression that looked nearly comical set against his enormous build and sinister-seeming face. He glanced at the Killian's far off gaze and quietly said, "I assume the lady has not come close to sharing your bed?" he inquired, a small snort at the end of his question.

Killian turned and glared half-heartedly at his friend and muttered, "How would you know? Perhaps she threw herself at her savior the moment we descended below deck."

"Well, the reason the girl made it on board was her spirit. No matter what disguise she was wearin', you can't fake that kind of fire. And based on the number of men she has overpowered on her own, I'm thinkin' she doesn't really need a savior. Hell, she's probably used to being the savior."

Killian knew that Starkey was right, but he couldn't resist leering and saying, "My dear man, we both know that she will be desperate for my bed soon enough."

"I don't know captain, she seems one of those 'on-their-own' types. Temper like no other, too. This lass will be givin' ya a run for your money."

Killian stood once again, stretching his arms behind his head and starting to head back to his cabin. "Nice talking to you, mate. But I should probably check on her and make sure she hasn't torn my chambers apart."

Starkey watched his retreating figure and laughed to himself, "Oh this one will most definitely hold her own."

Killian knocked on the door to his cabin, feeling ridiculous.

It's my bloody door. It's been my room for centuries. And here I am, treating her like I'm some bloody innkeeper.

"Swan, are you decent?"

Her answer came a little bit too late, and her breath hitched when she shouted back, "Don't come in."

He immediately knew something was wrong, so trusting his instincts he opened the door anyway and was filled with dread when his suspicions were proven right. Emma was hunched over his dresser, one arm in a sleeve of one of his larger button down shirts. He heard her stifled whimper and without a thought he crossed the room.

When he placed a hand on her covered shoulder, she flinched away, curling into herself. Her eyes met his and he could she was in intense physical pain, looking like a cornered animal.

He stepped forward slowly, his palms lifted and he said quietly, "I am not going to hurt you, but I need to know what's wrong."

Slowly coming to her senses, Emma turned her body around and Killian had to bite back the horrified gasp that threatened to escape from his throat.

More of her bindings she had been using on her chest and torso had been removed so that nearly everything except her breasts were visible. He could care less about the fact that her body was almost bared to him. What drew his attention were the rapidly forming bruises on Emma's ribs and side. Dark purple, nearly black, it looked as though she has been splashed with ink.

She stood and began to walk shakily to the bed, which she slowly sat down on. "They weren't so bad, I could ignore them, but when I tried putting on a shirt I had to twist around and it felt like I was being crushed."

"Gods, lass, how in hell's name were they 'fine' before? Were these inflicted by my men?" The idea that he could be partially at fault for her extensive injuries was horrifying, and the thought that Rack or Vance could have caused this made him immediately decide they would be killed."

As unexpected as always, Emma let out her snorting laugh and said, "Of course this wasn't your men. They wouldn't have been able to injure me so substantially without finding a knife lodged in their throat. I was knocked out by the boom. That is how the men discovered me."

Her nonchalance was astounding, but at the same time he felt strangely annoyed. "You could have told someone that you seem to have cracked a few ribs."

His sarcastic tone made her eyes glare at him in response as she said, "I've had worse. Why would I willingly show weakness?"

"Because you could have died, you stupid bint!"

Emma's anger suddenly left her face and fatigue took its place; she slowly lowered herself down on the bed so she could relax, turning her head with a sigh and muttering, "Why do you care?"

Killian flinched away from her gaze, and frustrated he said, "I don't. I'm not the type that cares about anything, lass." With a sad smile he considered the bleak truth of that statement, and thought of how much he had transformed. The hook wasn't a major part of his metamorphosis from Killian to Hook, it was his heart, which had felt like it too had been crushed.

The silence between them was thoughtful, and each allowed the weight of their day to fall on them. Killian heard a yawn that Emma tried to conceal and turned. He tried to keep his voice from sounding concerned or like he felt pity for her - only having only briefly known her he already knew she bristled when there was any suggestion that she wasn't self sufficient – and he said, "It has been a hell of a day. I wear my briefs to bed, and you can wear a pair over your undergarments. If you don't mind, I'd rather go to sleep sooner as opposed to later, so can I help you get that damn shirt on before I have to clean a body off my floor?"

Thankfully, Emma was willing to accept his help, and he couldn't help but rile her up as he slid his own shirt over her gently, leaning forward and smirking as he said with a leer, "Don't know why I'm helping you dress when ordinarily if it was my choice we'd be doing the opposite."

Emma looked up and met his eyes and a small, sweet smile was on her face. He was off put until she said in an overly innocent tone, "Hook, I may be injured and without weapons at the moment, but I'm sure I could find some way to fatally injure you."

His baffled look must have been the reaction she was hoping for, because as she leaned back she laughed loudly. It was one of the most unladylike things he had ever heard come from a beautiful woman's mouth, and he laughed as well. Turning her back on him, she moved to his dresser and grabbed one of his pairs of briefs before looking over her shoulder and commanding, "Turn around."

"Miss Swan, didn't I already reassure of my gentlemanly nature?"

He knew she had to be rolling her eyes at him, and by the time she announced she was decent, she had already crawled under the covers of his bed.

Crawling in beside her, careful to keep his distance between them as he was quite sure she was capable of fulfilling her previous threat, he muttered a simple, "Good night, Swan."

So quietly he thought that he must be imagining it, he heard Emma murmur, "Thank you, Killian" before quickly succumbing to the healing sleep her body so desperately needed.

He was entranced by the way her voice said his name. An old warmth flared up, and he lay back on his pillow considering the circumstances he was now in. A beautiful woman was lying next to him in bed. He wanted to shag her senseless. But he also was beginning to dislike the idea of dropping her off immediately after he was able to seduce her. She was … interesting. And he still didn't know why it was that she boarded his ship. He suspected it was required she leave from someplace immediately, and he felt guilty at the idea of putting her in danger.

He stilled his pondering thoughts and wrapped his blankets around himself.

I haven't been with a woman in weeks. That explains the strangeness. I'm not used to being in such close quarters with one whom I actually have to interact with.

For the first time in years he slept without nightmares plaguing him.