Rated M.

Killian's hand hurt like hell. However, any pain had been worth wiping that sick smile off of Rack's face.

The Jolly Roger had landed at Violet Hill right on schedule, and Killian's group, consisting of four other men and then Rack and Vance who were still restrained, had immediately sought out the prison. It was not difficult to find – the town was small and the first person they asked had pointed them in the direction they needed to go. All had been going well, their journey unhindered and within forty five minutes the group reached the prison and transferred Rack and Vance to the custody of the town's law.

Hell had broken loose when the guards had removed the gags from the prisoners throats just as Killian and his troupe were leaving the building.

"I sure hope your whore's fucking skills are worth losin' two men, Captain!"

His blood froze in his veins for a moment before suddenly feeling as though it was burning its way through his body. He had turned slowly, but the moment his eyes had locked on Rack's sneer he launched himself at the man, knocking his guards aside and pressing him against the prison's wall by the throat.

"What did you just say?"

Rack had realized that no matter what he answered he would be beaten, and then never have to face Hook again.

Each word loaded with malice he snarled, "Well Captain, I hope what's between her legs is magic, because otherwise all you've done is traded two working men for a cheap, manipulative whore."

Hook slammed his fist into Rack's mouth, wanting to keep the man from speaking of Emma ever again. However, immediately after his hit landed and he pulled his arm back for another, the guards gripped him by his upper arms and launched him to the other side of the room.

"Leave now, sir, or we'll have to take you into custody as well."

Killian rubbed his bloodied knuckles on his pants and followed his men out the door. He needed liquor in his system as soon as possible.

There had been nothing but silence as Killian and his four other men journeyed to the tavern that Starkey had said he would be taking the crew to in order to wind down after their lengthy time at sea. Upon entering the dingy establishment, Killian immediately sought out the bar, and after flirting with the bar maiden he acquired an extra large whiskey free of charge.

He settled onto a stool next to one of his crew and nodded at the man, both draining their alcohol as quickly as they could. He groaned, leaning his head into his hands on the bar. Ever since Emma had entered his life everything had gone to hell.

Whether one moment screaming at him and seemingly wanting to kill him, and then looking like pure sex and flirting with him, she was always putting him on edge. He had wanted to have her right against the door of his cabin as soon as it was physically possible, and he had surprised himself when he had instead declared that she shouldn't change rather than demand she remove her pants.

She had been just as shocked as he was. He knew that she had trust problems, every action she took indicated that she was only truly comfortable relying on herself. But the moment he had felt her freeze he was reminded of every doubt he had. Was she only enjoying flirting with him for the adventure? She was a fierce lass, perhaps she enjoyed the challenge of making Killian Jones feel something for the first time in centuries. She had seemed to care for him, but hell what if this entire time he had been wrong? Every time he had made the effort, he had extended a gesture to show that what he was feeling was more than just lust. It hadn't been just lust for what seemed like forever now.

His eyes scanned the crowded tavern, and finally through the crowd of villagers and his crewmen he was able to see a flash of gold. Craning his neck, he was finally able to rest his eyes on Emma. She was sitting at a table, sitting besides Starkey and laughing with him.

He cared about Emma. The knowledge that he had the capability to care for someone when he had thought he lost it long ago no longer felt like a gift. It hurt.

He could get hurt.

He dropped a few coins on the bar and grabbed a bottle of whiskey the bar maid had only just opened. Under the light of a full moon he walked back to his ship alone – the only thing in centuries that he knew would always be there, his constant.

For nearly half an hour he remained on the deck of his ship alone, sitting on the deck with his back leaned against the main mast. Even his ship felt haunted at times. Milah had walked aboard it, and now every encounter with Emma played in a continual loop in his mind's eye, not allowing him a moment of rest.

Leaning his head back, he took a large swig of the whiskey and enjoyed the distraction hat the burn down hi throat and chest brought on. He closed his eyes and sighed in contentment.

His moment of peace was interrupted, however, when he heard the creak of someone stepping onto the plank that led to the deck.

A glance down at his waist reassured him that his sword remained at his side, and he did not bother rising to see who the intruder was. He had been dueling for more than three hundred years, he could fight and best almost anyone, even tipsy and sitting down.

He jolted in surprise however, when he heard Emma's voice whisper into the dark, "Hook? Are you up here?"

He was perplexed, and in his hesitation he heard a sigh of disappointment and the sound of her turning to walk back down the plank presumably. He nearly kicked himself for his hesitancy and called out, "What in blazes are you doing here, Swan?"

His eyes adjusted to the moonlight and saw her slowly walk toward where his voice had come from. After squinting for a moment and then relief showing on her face when she spotted him, she strode to where he was sitting and sat down a few feet before him, gracefully crossing her legs and then gesturing to the whiskey and holding out her hand expectantly.

He handed her the bottle and saw her take a pull of her own before handing it back and closing her eyes, face tilted toward the night sky.

Much more softly Killian inquired, "Really lass, what are you doing here?"

Her eyes opened and met his with a look of fear and indecision, while she bit down on her lower lip. Searching his face for something he couldn't fathom, she finally whispered, "I don't know."

Emma was more relaxed than she had been in months. Granted, the rum she had been nursing for the last hour contributed to that, but more than anything it was the atmosphere of the tavern she was sitting in.

She had never really enjoyed herself drinking in large crowds, usually because in the past she had only ever entered these circumstances to pickpocket, something that didn't exactly allow one to let loose. She had been talking with a few of the men, in particular beginning to know Bowen and Cormic, two of the men that had joined The Jolly Roger's crew at the same time as she had. Because they all thought she was with their captain, they truly had no intention of bedding her – after all, they wanted their major organs to remain inside of their bodies. Their tongues loosened with alcohol, they had been trading riddles and crude jokes for a while before Starkey sat down next to her with a protesting groan from the unsteady chair beneath him.

"How have you been enjoyin' your night, lass?"

She smiled easily, Starkey had become one of her favorite men on the entire ship, and she responded, "Can't complain. How about you?"

"Seein' as none of the men has started a brawl and gotten us all kicked out, I am enjoyin' myself. Love the ship, but its nice to set foot on land every once in a while."

Emma laughed and took a second look at the crew before saying, "And how often does that happen?"

"Well, once Jones arrives I would say we have about an hour before we get the boot. That man can piss just about anyone off."

"Believe me, I know."

Starkey rolled his eyes at her and said, "Swan, how long are you goin' to let him think that you can't stand him?"

She jumped back, surprised and said, "He doesn't think that. Of course I don't hate him, I actually– " she cut herself off, taking a long swig of her rum and changing the end of what she was going to say, "- don't dislike him."

He let out a snort at her answer and said, "Gods, for someone who doesn't dislike him," he quoted sarcastically, "you give the man a rough time. He's the closest thing to a brother I've got and I've known the man for, well, many more years than any would guess – and you, Swan, are goin' to be the death of him."

Self-conscious, she twirled the remaining liquor in her glass and muttered, "I really don't think I affect him as much as you might think."

"Oh believe me, I know. So much more, actually. You don't see the way he looks at ya, lass. Doesn't matter if it's anger or laughter, he's got a life in his eyes that I haven't seen in years."

Emma threw her head back and drank the last of her rum, then turned and questioned angrily, "So what am I to do then, just tell him that I care about him?"

His smirk made her realize her mistake.

"Not that, I mean, I don't-"

"Swan, you really ought to talk to the poor bastard. Even if ya don't have the courage to tell him how ya feel, you might as well let him know he doesn't have to fear being strangled in his sleep."

She glared now, "Why the fuck would I tell him how I feel? Just walk up to him at the bar and start spewing my stupid, juvenile feelings at him? If I go there I can't just take it the hell back later. It could ruin everything."

He leaned back with a sad, pitying look in his eye, "Didn't figure you for a coward, Emma."

Whether it was the use of her first name or his suggestion that she was afraid, she stood up and prepared to walk away, saying, "I am not going to ruin his night. We all need relaxation right now, not to mess with the dynamic of the ship."

"Well, lass, seeing as he just walked in, stole a look in your direction and then took off - probably back to the ship – I would say that he doesn't have much of a night to lose."

She anxiously craned her neck in the direction of the bar and then the door, and when she looked back to Starkey he had a surprisingly gentle expression on his face. "Be brave, lass. He may not be the sort of man you see it in at first, but he is definitely the kind of man that deserves for you to take a chance for him."

Killian's face flashed through her mind. His infuriating, amusing, dazzling, butterflies-in-her-stomach inducing face, and she knew that every word of what Starkey had just said rang true.

She took a deep breath and nodded at him, before dashing toward the exit herself and running in the direction of the port where the ship was docked.

Starkey let an enormous smile stretch across his face.

"About fuckin' time."

Killian watched Emma, and when it became clear she was not going to keep speaking after saying that she didn't know her reason for seeking him out, he stood and stretched, saying, "Guess I'll head off to bed then. Go back to the tavern, have yourself a good time."

He felt her fingers lace through his as she turned him around to face where she now stood before the mast. They both were looking down at their joined hands in wonder, having felt the jolting sensation of rightness. He looked up and saw a tenderness that for a moment he thought he must be imagining.

"I'm scared."

Killian knew how much it must pain her to admit that out loud. This was the same woman that had screamed and sworn at his when he merely suggested she needed help or couldn't do something herself. Her walls seemed insurmountable, and had been built long ago.

He placed his hook beneath her chin and forced her to meet his eyes. In her action of turning him around she had unintentionally backed herself against the mast, and now she was unable to flee from the feelings that overwhelmed and terrified her.

He kept his voice quiet, willing to do anything to keep her from freezing or backing away from this conversation. They both knew that this was it. The hope that had been planted in his heart now had a vice-like grip around it. The air felt as though it was charged with electricity and their joined hands nearly vibrated with the potential of their joined energies.

Her eyes had always captivated him. He had seen hurricanes raging in them, and laughing adding light to their gray-blue, but this was the purest they had ever seemed to him. They were anxious, and most importantly, they were clear. No walls stood between him and he could see a woman that had been broken and bore the same scars of a deep sadness that he knew he did as well.

"What is it that you fear?"

She closed her eyes and took a rattling breath, and he realized she was close to tears. Wanting to comfort her without alarming her, he gently squeezed his hand that remained closed around hers.

She met his eyes, and the words that she whispered were so incredibly quiet, as if she wanted to imagine that she was not really speaking aloud, as if she wanted the option of retracting them before they could reach his ears.

"That you're going to leave me."

Time stopped. Killian felt the blood freeze in his veins. Then all at once, he felt as though something in his chest had burst. The physical sensation of it startled him, but he did not react, only looking into her eyes with pure awe and wonder.

She feared him leaving her. He meant that much to her. She had chosen to lower her guard completely for the first time in what he guessed to be years, and to him, a man she feared would leave her. Whoever it was that had broken her, must have shattered every fiber of her being for her to be so fortified against emotion.

Only hours ago he had thought that she may feel nothing for him. That perhaps every connection he had sensed had been fabricated in his own mind. Sure, he had taken physical incentives and always laced their conversation with flirting, but this incredible, fierce, and broken woman had been the one brave enough to confront their precarious situation.

"Emma, I am never leaving you," he said with fervor, saying her name for the first time, and sincerity reverberating with each word. He needed her to believe him. To take a chance. He would fight until the end of time if that was what it would take for her to know without a doubt that he was staying. There was a near desperation in his words, and Emma's expression showed a flash of hope before being surrounded by terror and an overwhelming vulnerability once again.

Her voice was slightly louder and she shared a similar sense of desperation for him to hear her words and understand them completely when she responded, "It's going to hurt."

Killian stepped closer to her, only inches separating their faces, and he removed his hand from hers, gently cupping her cheek and using the pad of his thumb to stroke it gently.

"It already hurts, love," he whispered.

The world was nearly silent; only the gentle lullaby of the ocean accompanied the two people standing on the deck of The Jolly Roger.

Killian leaned forward and did not hesitate as he at long last pressed his lips softly on hers.

The moment Killian's lips touched hers, every bit of anxiety and fear that she felt slipped away. This was right. So, incredibly right. It was as if her world, which had seemed off of its axis since meeting Killian, was finally righted as they kissed.

Much too soon, he pulled away gently and laid his forehead against her. Protesting, she breathed, "Killian."

His face froze, and she remembered that he had never heard her say his name out loud. An enormous smile overtook his face and his eyes lit up.

"Say it again."

Even if this kiss had just altered their relationship forever, their teasing dynamic remained the same. Instead of obliging, Emma cocked an eyebrow and let a sly smile cross her own face as she challenged, "Make me."

That was all the invitation he needed, and without the gentleness their interactions had possessed a moment ago, his hand placed on her cheek wound around her head and gripped her hair. He pressed his body tightly against hers, still trapped against the mast, and crushed his lips to hers fiercely.

Emma felt like she was on fire. He was burning her with his lips and body. She responded with equal passion, hoping that he could read her feelings in her body language as her arms wrapped around his neck tightly.

He lightly bit her lower lip before running his tongue against it and Emma shivered with pure lust as she opened her mouth to his. As the intensity of the kiss increased she lifted her leg and wrapped it around his waist, and he held it there with his hook as he ground his pelvis against hers and showed her just how much he wanted her.

Emma's body jerked towards his as she felt his length rub over her core and she longed for any kind of friction to help sooth the growing, desperate ache that was beginning.

She tightened her hold that her leg had around him and whimpered as his lips left hers to kiss down her neck. Suddenly he removed his hand from her hair and grabbed her ass, lifting her completely off the ground and pressing her against the mast. Both of her legs wrapped around his and he continued to grind against her.

Her name was like a prayer on his lips, between each kiss on her neck and jaw line he moaned, "Emma, Emma, Emma."

His mouth rose to her hair and his lips ghosted on the shell of her ear as he whispered, "Say my name, love."

Trying not to give in and let him win whatever incredible game they were playing, her head fell back and she said hoarsely, "No."

He let out a growl that made her shiver and bit down hard on the junction of her neck and shoulder while at the same moment rubbing the hardness in his breeches right over where she wanted him, and she couldn't hold back any more as she gripped his dark hair tightly and whimpered, "Killian, Killian."

He pulled his head back and looked deeply into her eyes, pleading for an answer as he said, "What is it you want, Emma? We don't have to-"

"You. I want you."

His lips met hers again, with a gentleness as she unwound her legs from his waist and warily stood on her own feet. His hand stroked up her body and rested on her cheek. They drew back and appraised on another before Killian gave her one more slow kiss. He pulled away and turned to lead them to his cabin, and Emma felt herself growing impatient with his cautiousness.

As she entered the cabin she knew so well by now she smirked and said, "You don't need to treat me like I'm made of glass –"

She found herself cut off as he tackled her onto the bed. They were both laughing as his body pinned hers and held her arms by her sides.

His stubble lightly scraped across her chest as his tongue traced her collarbone before his face loomed over hers. His smile was breathtaking and Emma wondered for a moment if this was really happening. But his eyes weren't sapphires and he didn't have the body of a Greek god – this was not a fantasy, this was Killian on top of her. Broken, damaged, sarcastic, ruthless, passionate Killian. This was real.

"Believe me, lass, I am going to do everything but treat you like glass." His growling tone made the fire in Emma's lower abdomen grow to a roaring blaze and she tore her arms from where they were pinned and roughly grabbed his face, crushing it to hers. After a few moments of biting and roughness, Killian leaned back so he was on his knees and Emma followed his motion, sitting up. She pushed her hands beneath his jacket and helped him shrug it from his shoulders, and he then mirrored the action for her.

Her vest was the next article of clothing to be thrown off, simply pulling it over her head, leaving her wearing only a simple brassiere over her torso, accompanied by her bandages. The concerned look in his eyes as he was reminded of her injuries was quickly cut off as Emma grabbed his chin and forced him to meet her eyes.

"I will tell you if I am in pain, but if you go easy on me before that I will deliver severe bodily harm."

His hand stopped undoing the buttons to her own shirt for a moment as he gripped the back of her neck and kissed her hard again, whispering, "That's my girl," before resuming his actions.

She finished the shirt for him, and was careful not to snag the fabric on his hook as she pulled off the sleeves.

The intimacy of the gesture was not lost on either of them, and the pace of their actions was slowed – more cherished than they had been previously. She lay back on the bed and he carefully pulled her pants off with his hook through her belt loop. As he stood at the edge of the bed, she sat up and met his eyes before sliding his own breeches down. Stepping out of his discarded pants, he climbed onto the bed and leaned Emma back so that his elbows fell on either side of her face.

He gently traced down the side of her cheek with his hook, and when she slightly turned her head and placed a soft kiss on the cold metal, his head swam with the swell of emotion.

She was tearing him apart. He felt so overwhelmed. This wasn't lust. This was not compassion or merely fascination or infatuation. He had never felt like this before. This was different from what he had thought love felt like. He was drowning and trying to breath but all he wanted was to be as close to Emma as possible. He wanted to be near her, in her, with her in every way.

"Gods, Emma."

She let a soft smile stay on her face and reached around to unhook her brassiere, throwing it to the side of the bed and watching his face. He began kissing and biting his way down her neck and across her chest, lingering on her collarbone before dipping his mouth to her breasts and taking a hardened nipple into his mouth.

She let out a loud moan and her spine bowed involuntarily towards his mouth, but it wasn't enough. The foreplay and other acts could wait for another time, she needed him now.

Grabbing his hair tightly she pulled him back to mouth and kissed him desperately before moaning again as his hand and hook ghosted down her sides.

"Please, Killian."

She could feel his smile against her hair as he laughed and said, "You'll need to be more specific, love. Please what?"

Huffing with annoyance she shimmied out of her already-drenched underwear and hooked her toes in the waistband of his own briefs, pushing them off as well. Reaching down, she gripped him tightly and began to stroke. His sudden intake of breath and thrusting into her hand made her smile and she met his gaze before whispering, "What was that about needing to specify?"

Suddenly he slowed his actions and leaned back from her, leaving her body cold and needing his warmth.

"Emma, I need you to be sure. I couldn't – if you later - Are you sure?"

Emma suddenly realized that he was letting her in just as much as she was doing the same. She had been abandoned, but in a way he had been as well. He had lost a love, and his walls were nearly as hard to breach as her own.

She sat up and stroked his face gently, letting her thumbs linger on his lips and she made sure to look into his worried gaze as she said, "I want you."

She leaned back once again so her knees were bent and spread and her upper body was propped up on her elbows. With a hunger in his eyes he moved forward and settled himself between her legs. She traced her toes up the backs of his calves before locking her ankles behind his back. She fully leaned back onto the bed, griping his upper arms and bringing him down with her.

Self conscious, she realized that it had been a while since she had sex. A long while. Trying to keep her voice nonchalant she said quietly, "Start slow, okay?"

He kissed her softly three times, each kiss separated by a low, growling whisper of her name. "Of course, Emma. Anything you ask."

His hand gripped her hip and he carefully tucked his hook behind her pillow. She met his gaze and saw a tenderness there she wasn't prepared for, and she knew that this wasn't going to be a quick fuck. He wasn't going to drop her off somewhere, and she couldn't flee the next morning. This would change things forever.

Surprising herself, Emma realized that she wanted this change. She was sure her own eyes held a frighteningly similar emotion, so she nodded deliberately without breaking his gaze.

She let go of his upper arms with one of her hands and wrapped her arm around his neck, gently burying it in his hair and pulled him down to her. In the moment their lips met once again, they both experienced a sensation of fullness, and at long last both felt a sense of peacefulness that they hadn't realized they were missing.

Had they been aware of anything but each other, they would have noticed the visible pulse of energy and magic that had spread in the moment that their lips touched this time, the first kiss that the both of them tried to pour their emotions into. But in that moment, Killian thrust into her in one smooth motion, and the ship could have sunk without the two taking any notice.

Emma let out a gasp, and Killian buried his head against her shoulder. Pulling his head back he looked into her eyes, watching her as her eyes became hazy and hungry. She nodded at him, and when he began to move at a leisurely pace she felt as though she was going to explode. Each thrust filled her so completely, and the muscles in her thighs already began to shake.

His low groans drove her nearly insane and she tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled his lips to hers in a deep and nearly aggressive clash of tongues and teeth. She felt as though she was vibrating and she only pulled her lips back from his to let out a whimper of "I need you, I need you, harder."

He smirked as he began to quicken the pace and panted, "What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn't oblige?"

While she normally would have risen to the bait, his frenzied movements left her breathless. He could feel her as she began to reach her peak so he moved his arm between them and rubbed against her clit, while tracing his lips against the shell of her ear as he murmured, "Say my name."

She held on to him as she fell over the edge, her arms wrapped around him tightly and her face pressed against the side of his neck as she let out a muffled cry of "Killian." As her body continued to flutter around his length she felt him let go as well, and when he groaned her name in near reverence she felt so light, as if she would float away.

He collapsed beside her face down and she curled onto her side, facing him and trailing her gaze lazily over his body. She hadn't fully appreciated it before they had – god she hated how sappy she sounded – made love. But now she was able to fully see the planes of his muscles and the degree to which they were marred by scars, some obviously from sword or dagger and some that would require an exchange of stories. She was by no means disgusted, she felt comforted in a strange way because she bore her own battle scars from life on the street. She was happy to notice that the bruises and injuries to her side had not bothered her, and she lazily traced her fingertips over his shoulder.

His face lifted from the pillow and rested so he was facing her, his wide smile gracing his face. When he smiled she felt her heart flutter. He looked younger, not naïve or childish, but as though he had not yet faced the horrors of his life.

She ran her hand through his tousled hair and whispered with a smile, "not too bad for an old man."

A mock expression of horror and offense crossed his face and he pulled back saying, "if you were unsatisfied I can go and find you a lad from the tavern-"

She grabbed his arm and pulled him back to her beneath the covers, closer than before so only inches separated their bodies. With an eye roll she responded, "I prefer pirates. Even smug, sarcastic ones."

He settled more deeply into the bed and smirked when he watched her try to stifle a yawn.

"Seeing as I have effectively tired you out, lass, I retain the right to smugness."

Her mumbled insults had no effect on his happiness and he reached his arm around her, pressing her against him and letting out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. As the aftereffects of their actions faded he had worried she would flee and fortify her walls stronger than ever, something he wasn't sure he could have handled.

Things would never be the same. Their passion had not been merely physical. They hadn't needed to proclaim definitions or wild promises, but their deliberately tender and emotional actions and gazes confirmed their feelings. Neither wanted to be the first to acknowledge it, but they were falling fast and hard.

He was jolted out of his bliss when the faint moonlight streaming through the window shone on his hook and he sat up, sending a nervous glance at a questioning Emma.

"I usually, uh, remove my hook before sleeping, as well as the contraption it attaches to. It's not exactly a pretty sight, lass, so if you would prefer to look away or for me to keep it on, let me know." He felt embarrassed and was nervous to hear her answer, so he refused to meet her eyes.

"Killian, look at me."

He met her gaze and she was unwavering, looking even slightly exasperated as she said, "Of course I don't mind. I have more than a few scars of my own that aren't attractive to look at." She turned her eyes down to his hook and the prosthetic that held it in place, running her fingers along it deliberately. She looked back to him and murmured, "Losing your hand is a part of your story, not something that defines you or marks you as lesser in any way."

The look in his eyes was undecipherable, but he made his feeling clear when he placed his hand against Emma's cheek and said in a clear, factual tone, "You are an amazing woman, Emma Swan."

He turned and proceeded to unbuckle and then remove the entire attachment. As he slowly pulled it from his arm, he held his breath. There was quite a difference in seeing a man with a deadly hook and simply seeing a man with a missing appendage.

However, Emma simply looked at it as she had every other part of his body, with exploration and curiosity. She trailed her fingers down his arm and ran them gently over the stump, meeting his eyes when she felt him shiver.

"I care about all of you, Killian. That means everything." Another yawn overtook her, and Killian laid back down with her, opening his arms as an invitation which she quickly responded to, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head against his chest.

Just before drifting off into a peaceful sleep she whispered, "Good night, Killian."

As the world was lulled away she made out his response of, "Sweet dreams, Swan."

Regina woke up with a start. Wildly, she looked down and saw the faint haze around the enchanted pendant she had constructed two and a half decades ago.

Hurrying from her bed she yelled, "Father, contact Snow and Charming immediately!"

Her shocked father peered out from his bedroom and asked in a hoarse whisper, "Your pendant! Does this mean –"

"Yes. Princess Emma's magic has been activated. Tell the king and queen that we can locate her and bring her home at long last."

Finally some Captain Swan action. Next chapter focuses on the two as well as further revealing how Emma wound up in an orphanage and why Rumpelstiltskin insists on finding her