A/N: This story is written in collaboration with Warrior717. After a long hiatus, we are more than excited to complete our original outline for "Hooked"! We briefly posted the remaining chapters to Warrior717's account, but have since decided to move them here instead!
This story is an AU (alternate universe) as of the Season 2 premiere; so nothing that has transpired since the premiere is part of our story.
We would like to thank Aerilex, Prayer777, and Sulerina who helped beta this chapter for us during this transition we had to make.
"I would like to personally thank NarrowBridge for being such a amazing partner and friend in this challenging writing project. You are a wonderful person, and you have been an inspiration in my life. I strongly believe that it is by Divine Intervention that we met. We help each other, and I have learned so much from you. So thank you, and I would like to dedicate this entire story to you."-Warrior717
Disclaimer: We do not own Once Upon a Time. If we did, the episodes would air every evening instead of every week! May credit be given where credit is due.
~Chapter XVIII~
The burly pirate pushed aside the curtain surrounding his captain's cot and dropped the unconscious prisoner onto the mattress. He faced Hook, his mouth opening to speak.
"Leave," Hook commanded flatly, cutting off whatever the man might have said and shrugging off his drenched coat. He swapped his shirt and breeches for a dry set, listening as the pirate's lumbering steps exited the cabin. Certain that he was now alone, Hook approached the side of his cot, eyes wondering over his captive's prone form before clearing his throat. He snatched up the washcloth from beside his porcelain washbasin, dipping it into the water and ringing out the excess droplets.
With the tip of his hook the captain pulled a nearby chair to sit beside his prisoner. He sat himself upon it, leaning closer to peer at the wound he had inflicted on the man's chest. It still bled freely, staining the torn white cloth of Rumplestiltskin's shirt with scarlet streaks.
Hook laid the damp rag over the injury, pressing lightly in attempts to slow the bleeding.
When he lifted the cloth, blood once more seeped from the wound in tiny crimson rivulets between the torn layers of skin. He applied the washcloth again, pressing down with more strength.
Rumplestiltskin jolted upward at the sudden stinging pain in his chest, knocking the cloth to the floor. Hook leapt from his seat, the fingers of his right hand twitching as he took a step backward from the cot. Brow furrowing and eyes blinking rapidly, Rumplestiltskin blearily took in his surroundings. Instead of the grimy, damp prison floor he had expected to wake on, he felt the pallet's soft give under his weight.
"What happened?" He mumbled, raising a hand to rub at his throbbing head, "How did I get..."
"After that rather ridiculous display of yours on deck, I had one of my men bring you in here." Hook leered, casually bending to pick up the cloth from the floor and tossing it to Rumplestiltskin, before turning and striding toward his map-strewn mahogany desk.
Rumplestiltskin pressed the cloth against the bleeding wound on his chest, turning when he heard the captain open one of the desk's drawers, withdrawing from its depths several strips of fabric and a crystal decanter half-filled with brandy.
He brought the decanter to his lips, taking a large gulp, wincing slightly as the amber liquid burned a path down his throat. A moment later, Hook walked back over to the cot, handing the decanter to Rumplestiltskin.
Rumplestiltskin glanced at it warily, quirking an eyebrow as Hook nodded once for him to take it. After another moment's hesitation, he wrapped his fingers around the glass container and brought it to his own lips. He swallowed a mouthful, the bitter taste of the alcohol making his tongue tingle.
Hook pulled the decanter back to himself, smirking as he threw back another large gulp. His smirk widened as he withdrew the drink from his lips, suddenly removing Rumplestiltskin's hand with the cloth, overturning the decanter directly above the man's chest.
Rumplestiltskin hissed in pain as the alcohol seeped into his open wound, burning like liquid fire. Hook pulled a handkerchief from within his coat and tipped some more of the liquor onto it. He tossed the soaked handkerchief to Rumplestiltskin, along with the lengths of cloth retrieved to substitute as bandages. The captain's eyes met his prisoner's for a moment, his forehead creasing in something like confusion before he abruptly turned on his heel and walked toward the ornate armoire in the corner.
Rumplestiltskin picked up the brandy-soaked handkerchief and carefully dabbed at his raw wound, wincing as he cleared away most of the remaining blood. He unraveled the strips of cloth, folding one into a thick wad to settle over the cut and winding the other about his chest to hold it in place. He heard Hook rifling through the armoire, and a moment later a set of clothes landed with a soft thud before him on the cot.
"You've already soaked my cot. I'll not have you leaving a trail of water all about my cabin," the Captain sneered, his gaze not quite meeting Rumplestiltskin's questioning stare as he turned around again and sat behind his desk.
Tying the end of the bandage tight, Rumplestiltskin rose to his feet. The blood still pounded heavily in his ears, but his vision no longer swam. After pulling shut the curtain surrounding the bed, he removed the drenched clothes he still wore and draped them over the chair Hook had occupied. Relieved to finally be free of the soaked garments, he pulled on the dry clothes Hook had given him.
The off-white shirt was not unlike those he had worn when he was the infamous deal-making imp of the Enchanted Forest, its long sleeves billowing slightly. Its collar parted in a v-shape, exposing the white bandages covering the mangled skin of his chest. The black breeches hung somewhat loosely off of his slim waist, but the belt Hook had provided—an ironic shade of deep gold—held them snugly in place. Finishing the tie of his gold belt, Rumplestiltskin stepped out from behind the curtain. Apprehension hardened his gaze as he wondered what would transpire now between himself and this man who claimed to be his son.
"Well, well, you could pass for a member of my crew," Hook said snidely from his seat behind the desk, smirking as he took in his prisoner's appearance. The dagger lay before him, glinting faintly in the morning sunlight.
Rumplestiltskin said nothing, staring at the captain as a thousand questions competed in his mind to be asked. He took a tentative step toward the desk, his heart telling him to launch into an interrogation and his instincts telling him to snatch the dagger and flee.
"Sit," the captain murmured, and Rumplestiltskin nearly gasped in surprise when the chains of magic did not suddenly constrict about his willpower and force him into motion. Hook was giving him a choice.
After a moment's hesitation, Rumplestiltskin approached the chair set before the desk, seating himself upon it.
"Bae—"
Hook slammed the tip of his silver appendage on the desk, the dark warning in his black eyes momentarily silencing his prisoner.
Frustration suddenly roiled within Rumplestiltskin's chest, faintly coloring his cheeks.
"How do I know you are not lying? That your remark back there was not just another tipoff from that 'little bluebird' you mentioned?"
Hook chuckled in response, bearing his teeth in a sarcastic grin.
"That was a figure of speech. I was being facetious when I said it," Hook said slowly, as though speaking to a young child. "I see your rampant paranoia has not ebbed over the years," he added derisively.
Rumplestiltskin continued to glare at the ship's captain, his lips pressed in a hard line. Hook stared back, lips forming a sly smirk.
"Prove it," Rumplestiltskin suddenly demanded, his eyes boring into his tormentor's. Hook laughed loudly, the jarring notes filling the cabin.
"What do you want, a tear-filled confession?" Hook chuckled mockingly as his prisoner's hands curled into fists, their knuckles shining white.
"All right, I'll humor you." Hook leaned back in his chair, placing his arms behind his head.
"Let's see... We lived in a shabby hut on the outskirts of the marshlands, you had a gimpy right leg that served as the butt of the village's jokes..." he listed off callously, staring up at the ceiling and smirking.
"Anyone who had visited that village could have told you that," Rumplestiltskin interjected harshly.
"You took me to the market with you to sell wool, you taught me how to haggle because you were too afraid to do it yourself—"
"Stop."
"You tried to run with me when they lowered the drafting age, you sought the Dark One's powers when that plan failed miserably-"
"Nothing any other villager did not kn—"
"You killed our maid, you broke our deal, you let me fall through that vortex alone—"
"Hook!" Rumplestiltskin leapt from his seat, slamming his hands against the polished surface of the desk. His mouth opened to release another shout when it was evident the pirate captain was not relenting.
"You used to sing a lullaby to help me sleep."
Rumplestiltskin froze, the harsh words he was going to say dying in his throat.
"About a shepherd boy and a wishing well."
The sounds aboard the ship faded, draining away until all Rumplestiltskin heard was the beat of his own heart pounding in his ears.
"Is that proof enough for you?" Hook said snidely, his dull eyes glinting with an indiscernible light.
Rumplestiltskin blinked, vaguely aware that he had returned back to his seat. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.
"It is you."
A scoff sounded in the back of Hook's throat before he leaned forward, his gaze traveling back to the dagger which lay before him. His fingers wrapped around the hilt, flipping the blade around till its tip dug lightly into the desk's wooden surface. Pressing the end of the hilt with a finger, he trapped the cursed knife between his finger and the polished mahogany.
"Why didn't you take this?" Hook questioned, eyes narrowing, watching his captive closely for his response. "You could have let me die."
Rumplestiltskin stared at the younger man in silence, and then sighed resignedly. "I suppose a part of me wanted to believe you were my son."
Hook smiled incredulously, leaning back once again in his chair. "Even though I have tormented you?"
A pit began to grow in Rumplestitskin's stomach at the reminder of his son's cruel use of punishment after his escape attempt. It was only now his attention came back to the wound inflicted on his chest, now bandaged, and he rubbed his hand along it briefly. He swallowed, diverting his gaze to the floor. "Yes."
Hook's eyes remained cold, yet a hint of fascination glinted in their depths as he continued to stare at his captive.
"However," Rumplestiltskin added quietly, looking up as he spoke. "I never imagined you would ever try to control me."
Hook looked away briefly, clearing his throat. Rumplestiltskin thought he might have discerned a flash of remorse in the captain's eyes, but knew he would never be certain of it.
"I'm not the same boy you once knew," Hook said finally, his lifeless eyes betraying no emotion now.
Rumplestiltskin sighed, passing a hand over his eyes before leaning back in his chair. A sense of dread filled him as he realized he was responsible for the callous man sitting before him. Every guarded expression, each cruel act born out of the sense of betrayal, the anger he instilled in his son in that moment he let him go alone, making Baelfire into the very monster the boy had tried to prevent him from becoming all those years ago. Despite his son's assertion that he had changed, Rumplestiltskin found himself searching this man before him for any trace of his beautiful boy. But all he could see was a cold, calculating, and selfish, sea-bearing pirate willing to take a life, even a child's. But still. There was that…
"The lullaby," Rumplestiltskin recalled, his voice sounding slightly optimistic. "You remember it, after all this time."
Hook pushed his chair back suddenly, catching Rumplestiltskin off guard, and stood up. "That particular subject will not be discussed any further."
Rumplestiltskin breathed an exasperated sigh before he leapt from his own chair, straightening himself until he was eye level with his son.
"Baelfire—"
"Hook." The captain said abruptly. "You will call me Hook. You gave up any right to claim me as your son long ago."
Rumplestiltskin flinched. The Captain, appearing not to notice, walked over to the cabin window, opened it, and peered outside.
"What happened to you after you fell through the vortex?" Rumplestiltskin said, decidedly changing the subject.
The captain smirked, shaking his head. "You know as well as I, magic always comes with a price."
"And you?" Rumplestitskin pressed further. "What was your price?"
Hook's demeanor changed then, but he continued to look out the window. "One you should have paid."
Rumplestiltskin did not know which pained him more, the meaning of the words or the cold, monotonous way in which his son said them. When he did not respond, the captain turned from the window, shifting his gaze to the older man.
"That vortex was meant for you, as well." Hook elaborated, nonchalantly walking over to a shelf in the cabin and picking up a small golden clock. A jagged line ran along its face, evidently cracked. The clock itself seemed not to work, and judging by the captain's actions, it appeared to Rumplestiltskin that his son preferred it that way.
"Bae—Hook," Rumplestilskin corrected after seeing the warning glint in the captain's eyes, "I want you to know—"
"I'm not interested in anything you have to say to me," Hook stated flatly.
Feeling his earlier frustration returning to him, Rumplestiltskin ran a hand through his hair, breathing in deeply. "What I did…" he began slowly, "I have regretted every day. "
Though never taking his eyes off the clock in his hand, Hook's eyebrow rose slightly, skeptical, as he muttered something inaudibly.
"I have made great attempts since then to find a way to get back to you," Rumplestiltskin continued, his eyes pleading with his son to listen to him.
The captain seemed to ignore him, intent upon prying the cracked glass off the golden timepiece. His silver hook fiddled with one of the useless hands, spinning it repeatedly. Rumplestiltskin felt his patience draining from him, but continued regardless.
"I tried everything I could possibly do. I sought out deals, gave up the life I knew. I resorted to creating a curse that— "
"Not another word."
"I'm not finished!" Rumplestiltskin shouted impetuously, his face reddening when Hook quirked an eyebrow in amusement. "This curse— "
"Makes no difference," the captain interrupted tersely, turning to face his captive.
"—was designed to bring me to a land without magic so that I could find you," Rumplestiltskin tried to continue.
"That will be enough." Captain Hook's dark expression mirrored the finality of his words.
Rumplestiltskin faltered a beat. If only he could convey to his son the deep regret over his own cowardice, his decades-long search for his precious boy, his need for redemption. "Why won't you just listen to me, son?"
To Rumplestiltskin's surprise Hook chuckled condescendingly, spiting his father's plea.
"Why won't I listen to you?" the captain taunted. His eyes hardened. "How dare you," he hissed venomously, "You have no right—"
His words cut off abruptly, and Rumplestiltskin's eyes turned sharply up to the captain's face in astonishment as a solitary crimson tear formed, trailing its way down his son's cheek. Hook raised his hand to scratch at the strange sensation, but froze when his fingers encountered the warm wet trail. He jerked his hand from his face, staring disbelievingly at the red staining his fingertips. After a long moment, his cheeks flushed scarlet, which Rumplestiltskin could only assume was from embarrassment. Hook looked up at him, and Rumplestiltskin stepped closer. His gaze softened, but his face was etched with worry.
"Is that…Is that blood?" Rumplestiltskin asked, trepidation sweeping through him as he tried to identify what he had just seen.
Hook, saying nothing, slowly turned to the antique mirror adjacent to his desk to study his reflection. A moment later the earsplitting sound of glass shattering pierced the air, startling Rumplestiltskin. The myriad shards scattered in every direction, glittering in the sunlight like a thousand tears. The gold clock, which his son had been holding, lay among the debris. Its cracked face dangled by a thin strip of metal, and both hands were missing from the force of being thrown
The captain leaned over exasperated, his breathing ragged, and Rumplestiltskin felt something stir inside him. Instead of all the conflicting emotions he might have expected to feel in that moment, he felt only sympathy for the pirate.
He took several steps forward until he was within arm's length of the captain, hesitating, and then reached out to clasp his son's shoulder. As if sensing the movement, Hook tensed, and Rumplestiltskin paused, before dropping his hand back down to his side. He looked down regrettably, feeling his cheeks flush. He should have known his son would react this way. Should have known, because this is what he deserved.
"Get off my ship."
Rumplestiltskin looked up, stunned, wondering if he had heard the captain correctly.
"What?" he murmured.
"I want you off my ship." The captain repeated slowly, his back still turned to his father.
Rumplestiltskin waited to be lured by the icy compulsion of Hook's command, but was surprised when the chains of magic did not take over as they had done so in the past. Once again, his son was ultimately giving him a choice, but Rumplestiltskin couldn't help but wonder the motive behind his son's unusual and distorted act of chivalry.
"Do you hate me that much?" Rumplestiltskin found himself asking out loud. He regretted the question instantly though, as he realized he didn't want to know the answer.
The captain, still hunched over, clenched his fist, albeit his hand slightly trembled. He breathed in deeply, letting out a worn sigh.
"Just…leave." Hook's voice sounded uncharacteristically quiet. "Run, it's what your good at."
Rumplestiltskin felt the corners of his eyes begin to sting as he worked past the lump forming in his throat. His son, whom had searched for all this time stood no more than a few inches from him, yet Rumplestiltskin felt as though he was slipping through his fingers all over again. What was worse, his son was right about him. He was always running. He wasn't a better man even after all these years. He wasn't the father his son had always wished him to be. He still craved power, and he was still a bloody coward.
Feeling that he had no other choice, Rumplestiltskin nodded sadly, and then, reluctantly turned to leave.
He paused when he reached the captain's desk, unable to tear his eyes away from where the cursed dagger lay. Ironically, the same dagger he had sought out in hopes of saving his son from being taken from him, now remained the same despicable object that ultimately separated them.
"You might as well take it." Although Hook spoke in a voice barely above a whisper, it startled Rumplestiltskin from his thoughts. "I have no further use for it."
Rumplestiltskin felt his heart race as he stared at the dagger, unnerved that Hook gave it up so freely, and yet still tempted to grab it and leave. Did his own son hate him so much that he would allow him to escape with the dagger, consequently surrendering his plans to have him kill the young boy, Peter Pan? Would he instead pursue his plans by some other means, Rumplestiltskin wasn't sure. But one thing remained certain; his son no longer controlled him, and maybe that meant the captain still retained a even a small part of the young boy he used to know.
With a newfound resolve, Rumplestiltskin turned, walking out of the cabin and leaving the dagger behind. He would not leave the ship as the captain directed. No, he would return to the brig, stay behind, in hopes that he might be able to reestablish the trust he once had with his son, that he might get through to the boy beneath the lavish coat and cold eyes. Rumplestiltskin steadfastly walked along the familiar path down to the grimy, aphotic brig, ignoring the crew's inquisitive stares along the way.
When the captain knew that he was alone, he straightened, and slowly walked over to the door, shutting it. Then, as if in his own reverie, Hook took one step backwards, then another, until he was up against a wall. A gentle breeze flowed through the window, rattling the maps on his desk, when something caught his gaze. His eyes widened slightly, his brow etched in confusion as there on his desk still lay the dagger he had allowed his father to take, and was convinced he would. He sighed, resting his head against the wall before slowly sliding down its smooth surface. When he reached the floor, he closed his eyes, breathing in and out deeply.
A buzzing sound alerted him and he opened his eyes, turning just in time to see a flash of green, then a slender-looking object falling through the window. It landed with a light thud, rolling several inches across the floor before coming to a complete stop. It took Hook a moment to realize exactly what it was before he picked up the scroll, the parchment appearing oddly familiar, and unrolled it. As his eyes scanned over the contents of the letter, the captain gradually rose to his feet, his lips curving into a sinister smirk.
"Smee!" the captain shouted suddenly, his eyes still fixed on the letter in his hand. Moments later, scurrying feet could be heard right outside the cabin door just before it flew open.
"Yes, Cap'n!" The pudgy, short pirate answered, but stopped short when he saw the broken mirror shards scattered across the floor. "Is everything alright, Cap'n?"
Hook raised his eyebrow in annoyance, rolling his eyes. "Clean up this mess!" He ordered tersely, before determinedly returning to the window to glance outside.
"Yes, Cap'n, right away, sir!" Smee immediately complied, rushing over to the broken mirror.
"And Smee!" The captain said, hardly turning his gaze.
"Yes, Cap'n?" The pirate asked, looking up as he busily picked up every last shard of glass.
"Prepare the crew," Hook stated matter-of-factly, "We will be changing course."
"May I ask to where we will be sailing, Cap'n?" Came the short pirate's squeaky voice.
The captain smirked. "To the southeastern shore," he replied, breathing in the salty sea air. "I have a very important meeting to attend."
A/N: We appreciate reviews, discussion, constructive criticism, or just a simple hello to let us know you're out there reading our story!