This, he swears as he struggles to get a fire going, is the last time he ever gets involved with another stubborn brunette. Didn't he learn his lesson enough the last time?

It had all seemed to happen so quickly. Killian stood motionless as Mary made her deal with the Dark One, effectively sealing her fate before his eyes. She would journey to find his bloody magic bean, and he would send her home—with the added caveat of accompanying her on the journey. Why on earth the Dark One wanted to visit the Land Without Magic was anyone's guess, but Killian knew one thing for sure: he was not to be trusted, not with this woman and certainly not with anyone else. There was no backing out of a deal with Rumpelstiltskin, but Killian wasn't about to let her go traipsing off on this mad quest, in a strange land full of dangers she couldn't even fully comprehend, on her own. He was not about to let Mary turn into another Milah, or Liam. Not on his watch. He could not.

And so it was that he, too, consigned himself to this mad quest. Rumpelstiltskin had been nearly beside himself with glee, no doubt hoping that Killian would meet his own untimely end on the journey. He'd rattled off a list of instructions that Killian only half paid attention to. His focus had been mostly on Mary, the way she held her head high as the Dark One listed his demands, how she only showed her hesitation when he paused for breath. Then her calm mask would slip, and he would see her for what she truly was—a woman entirely out of her element, in a strange land far from home, who clearly had no idea who or what she was dealing with. Killian had no choice but to help her.

Maybe the pirate hadn't completely overshadowed the man of honor, after all.

Or maybe Killian was just getting too damn sentimental for his own good.

With a wave of his hand that had transformed Mary's clothes into something more suiting for a trek through the Enchanted Forest ("Can't have you drawing the wrong kind of attention, can we, dearie?") and one final, grave warning to her not to break his deal, the Imp had vanished, leaving the two of them alone. Killian's eyes had skimmed over Mary's transformation—navy blue skirt and bodice under a cloak of dark gray—for only a moment before he'd gestured gruffly before him with his hook, indicating that they should get a move on. The majority of their journey had been spent in silence, with the occasional feeble protest from Mary that she could handle this on her own, which had been quickly shot down by him as they trudged along. Now, darkness was creeping across the horizon, and he'd found a clearing suitable for making camp for the night. He could feel Mary's eyes on him as he scraped his hook along the flints, trying in vain to get them to spark.

"I don't suppose that Lady Mary Crawleyhas any experience lighting a fire?" he drawled.

"I'm afraid not," she answered, shaking her head.

"I thought not," Killian said, returning to his work. A few more tries and several muffled curses later—one of which he swore brought the faintest hint of a smile to her lips—they had the start of a decent fire going. Killian reached into his satchel and pulled out the remains of a loaf of bread he'd bought the day before at a market, thankful that he hadn't eaten it all by himself already. "I'm afraid that's all there is," he said as he settled himself down on a fallen log near to where Mary sat perched as if the very ground around her might rear up and attack. Killian studied her curiously. Her posture was ramrod-straight, her every movement graceful, so different from the controlled chaos that had been Milah…

"It's all right," Mary said, taking the food and biting into it hungrily. "I appreciate you sharing it with me nonetheless."

"Well, I couldn't very well let you starve, after all. I might be a pirate, love, but I'm not completely heartless."

"I know."

Her words, spoken so softly he was almost sure he had imagined them, struck a chord with him that he did not expect. He turned away from her, stoking the fire with a stick. "Well," he said awkwardly, not sure why her oddly tender words had affected him so. "You'd best get some rest. We have a long journey ahead of us."

She nodded, but made no move to ready herself for sleep. Instead, she was staring at the sky above them, the stars relflecting back and illuminating her deep brown eyes. She looked utterly wonderstruck, and in spite of himself, Killian smiled.

"I don't think I've ever seen so many stars before," she said quietly. "Not even in Yorkshire." Yorkshire. That, then, must be the name of the land she hailed from. He made a mental note to remember it.

"It's amazing," she finished softly, sounding truly awed.

Killian smiled as he tilted his head back as well, gazing upon constellations that he had known by heart since the first time he had been taught to navigate a ship. "They look even more impressive at sea," he remarked. "Trust me on that, love. This is nothing."

"I'd like to see that."

"Well, perhaps I'll take you there someday." The words slipped from his mouth before he could catch them, and he watched her eyebrows raise in surprise.

"Perhaps," was all she said.

They remained there for a while, looking up at the stars overhead, befor Killian cleared his throat. "You really should get some sleep. We have a lot of terrain to cover tomorrow, and you'll need to keep up—this is, after all, your quest." He smirked. "I'm merely along for the ride. And don't go worrying about your virtue, either. I can assure you that I can resist whatever temptation your presence may give me."

"I don't doubt it," she replied immediately. She was clever and quick, he had to give her that. Just maybe not clever enough to avoid walking into dangerous deals with the Dark One.

"Good night, milady," he said softly as he watched her recline back against the log, her cloak pulled around her for warmth. There was silence, and for a moment he wondered if she had actually fallen asleep, worn out by the events of the day already.

But then, she spoke.

"Good night…Captain."