Chapter 2

Pain.

That was the first thing that registered in Hook's feverish brain when he awoke well into the evening – or what he guessed was the evening, based on the amount of light coming from his closed quarter doors. His whole body ached fiercely from the pounding he took against the Jolly, a gift from the crushing waves. His head also pulsed with it, likely due to the fever and chills that had overcome him since his stay in the icy water, and based on the familiar pain in his ribs, he guessed that one or more had been re-broken.

He opened his eyes slowly, ignoring the headache and blinking in his dimly lit quarters. His throat was parched, and still felt thick from the sea water, as if no fresh water had washed it away since it had been swallowed. A warm, damp rag that smelled thickly of salt and fish rest against his forehead and the blanket from his cot was wrapped tightly around him. He was alone. Hook struggled weakly to sit up for a moment, before giving up and letting himself fall back to the bed with a soft groan.

Emma.

That was the second thought that overtook him – one that caused a far greater reaction than his battered body had. Flashes of her limp figure and pale, blueish skin danced in his mind's eye and a strangled whimper left his parched throat. He remembered holding her tightly as he was pummeled against the ship and begging her silently through his thoughts to hold on. Emma was dead. She was dead because he couldn't save her. He hadn't been fast enough, strong enough to fight the storm. It felt like a dream, a horrible apparition conjured by the fever – something he had caught in Neverland. Gods above, please let it be a dream.

With new resolve, he fought to sit himself up, causing the rag fall to the side, and he shakily drew the covers from his body to find that he had been stripped completely bare of his soaking clothes. He only briefly wondered who had rid him of them before he noticed the ugly marks that covered him. If it had been a dream, it had been a damned realistic one. Large, dark red and purple bruises littered his torso and legs, and there was a nasty burn in a circular shape around his waist from where the rope had cut into him the second time he had jumped in after her without his heavy coat to protect him.

It wasn't a dream.

The thought cut into him like a knife and he could almost feel a cold fist clutching at his heart, the tightness in his chest was so intense. He had begun to shiver violently with the blanket tossed to the side and his vision swam from sitting up for too long. He glanced around the room for any sign of his clothing.

"Hook…" The small, surprised voice belonged to Mary Margaret. She was at his side instantly, blushing ever so slightly as she covered him again with the blankets and pushed him back into a lying position. He could only groan in protest. She placed a cool hand against his forehead. "You're still burning up, but at least you're awake," she muttered, almost as if she were speaking to herself. "You've been in and out of consciousness for almost two days now with that fever." Her mouth was set in a hard line and she didn't meet his eyes as she worked, re-wetting the rag in a small bucket next to the bed, wringing it out and placing it back onto his forehead.

Hook let out an appreciative groan at the feeling of the cold rag on his forehead, shivering again slightly, but feeling strangely relieved by it. He let his eyes close slowly, then they shot back open when images pelted his feverish mind. "Emma-"

"You need to take it easy," she murmured reassuringly, finally glancing up to see the panic in his expression. "It's gonna be ok. Here," she placed a cup against his lips, encouraging him to drink.

The cool liquid felt amazing against his dried mouth and coated throat. He slowly sipped, gradually becoming greedy, taking in long gulps until he coughed sharply, and Mary Margaret removed the cup from his reach. "...Where is she?"

"Who?"

"Emma…" His voice cracked, though whether it was because of his parched throat or emotion could not be distinguished. He couldn't bear the thought of her body being buried away in a watery grave without him saying his last goodbyes.

"Shh, you-you don't need to worry about her," she whispered, running a hand through his moist hair with an unfamiliar tenderness. "You already did enough," she went on, and gazed at him with sadness in her eyes. "Thank you, Hook… For what you did."

She was thanking him? Somehow her gratefulness stung even more than if she had slapped him in the face and blamed him for her death. He wished she would. Anything but that wretched, sad smile she forced as she looked at him, as if he were deserving of some twisted praise. He drank when she offered him more water, and his throat finally began feeling less scratched and swollen.

"Don't waste your breath on me, darling. I don't deserve your thanks," he replied, turning his eyes away from her.

"But you do," she nodded firmly, tears glistening in her eyes. "You're more of a hero than you give yourself credit for, Killian. You almost died."

He flinched at the sound of his name on the woman's lips. "Maybe it'd have been better if I had."

Mary Margaret sighed softly to herself and gently pulled the blanket back from his chest to reveal the rope burn. "I need to clean this." She reached down into the bucket of seawater, retrieving another rag from it. "It's no medicine, but it's the best we can do right now," she mumbled, rubbing it across the raw wound, casting him an apologetic look when he let out a sharp moan, his skin trembling beneath the gentle massage of the cloth. "Shh, I know it hurts." She placed a hand behind his back and encouraged him to sit up so she could wash the wound on his back.

Choking back another gasp at the sting and the scream of his throbbing ribs, Hook took a shaky breath. As his hazy mind awoke even further, a new thought occurred to him that set his blood to a boil. "Where is Regina?" The steely tone and the way his expression flashed with a controlled fury would have been enough to take the breath away from anyone, but Mary Margaret calmly continued tending to his injuries.

"She's below deck, tied up until we decide what to do with her. Gold is on guard duty."

"Well, isn't that wise," he croaked sarcastically. "Put the scheming Crocodile with the Queen. Maybe with their combined magic, they can kill us all before we realize what's happened," he snapped, his prior promise of peace momentarily forgotten as three hundred years of distrust returned to his consciousness.

"He's not going to help her, Hook. He only took over so David could get some rest. He's been awake since…"

"And what about you, love?" The harshness in his voice softened slightly when he realized how tired and worn out the woman was. Bags lined her eyes and her face was drawn and emotionless.

"I haven't had the chance."

Had she been taking care of him the entire time? He was the captain, they needed him for survival, but the thought was both touching and guilt-inducing to the pirate. "Leave it to me then. I'd be happy to deal with our little problem, just supply me with my hook and a few hours alone with her."

"We're not going to kill her."

"Why the bloody hell not?" His head was pounding again with pain and exertion from all the speaking he was doing, but he couldn't care less at this time. He'd been denied revenge once for the greater good, but the pain in his chest was bringing the old hunger back.

"She says it was an accident."

"And you believe her?"

"No, I don't, but we need her to get Henry back. I don't like it any more than you do, Hook, but we have to do what Emma wanted. We have to focus on getting him back."

Mary Margaret stood up quickly, ending the discussion, though obviously fighting her own mind with the decision herself. She dropped the rag into the bucket and walked across the small cabin to retrieve another blanket. There was a long period of silence as Hook watched her tired but agitated movements.

"We aren't moving… Who is captaining my ship?"

"We've been anchored for two days now."

"What?" New life crept back into his weakened voice as he sat up. "No. It's too dangerous. We can't stay in one spot for so long, not in Neverland."

"We didn't really have a choice," Mary Margaret said, returning to his side and lightly lying him back onto the cot. "Not without its captain."

"What happened to my clothes?"

"They're here," she nodded to his nightstand. "You were soaked to the bone. By the time we found some dry clothes, you were delirious and it was easier to leave them off."

"I have to get us on our way," he groaned, struggling against her delicate but surprisingly strong grip so that he could sit up and dress. "We'll never find the boy with me lying here, useless."

"You're going to be useless if you don't rest. Your fever hasn't completely broken yet. Hook... You've done enough."

This was too much. "She's dead! Your daughter died out there because of me. You keep saying that I've helped, what have I done?" He hollered loudly, roughly shoving her hand off of his shoulder and sitting up. The pirate's eyes took on a stormy look as he spoke, the sea blue becoming darker and clouded with pain.

"Killian…you need to calm down, you're too weak to-"

"Don't," he growled, holding the blanket around his hips with his good hand and swiftly swinging his legs over the edge of his bunk, standing before his body was allowed to protest. He stood shakily for a moment, then moved towards his nightstand under Mary Margaret's worried watch with a new confidence.

"She's n-"

"Don't call me a hero, love. I...I-" His words were cut off as the world began to go black once again. He felt his body lurch forward, but couldn't seem to control himself enough to stop it.

"Dammit!" Soft hands gripped his arm, slowly easing him to the ground. "You stubborn pirate."

After a moment or two of fighting for consciousness, the room stopped spinning and Hook could focus on the woman who had caught him. "Why didn't you just let me die?" he whispered, weakness beginning to overtake him again.

"Killian, Emma isn't dead."

A/n: So, you guys did me in with this one. I considered writing something heartbreaking and sad, and then I apparently broke all of you, so I had to continue. xD I'm thinking probably only 1 or 2 more chapters after this one, but I enjoyed the emotion in this too much to give in and leave it as a oneshot. Which is why I didn't put a "character death" warning in the summary btw. I was considering continuing it the whole time and wasn't quiet sure yet, so I didn't want to give anything away either way. ;) Please let me know what you think and if it's worthy of continuing. :)