He'd just had to bring up Milah.
The Dark One, popping out of nowhere to check up on them as he always did, had let slip what had happened to Milah all those years ago on board the Jolly Roger. And thanks to Killian's own crushing guilt—still just as fresh, just as painful, all these years later as it had been on the day he'd watched the light fade from her eyes—and Mary's insatiable bloody curiosity, the whole bloody story had spilled out, every last detail of it, as he clutched the canteen in his hand, wishing for rum, wishing for anything to dull the pain that wasn't the clear, sweet water that Mary had collected for them that morning. His hands shook as he spoke, his eyes hooded and hidden from Mary's view. He didn't want her sympathy or her pity…or did he?
"It wasn't your fault," she says softly once he's finished his sad tale. Her voice is soft, but not overly sweet, as if she knows that he wouldn't want words of false hope or comfort. It was odd, how she, a stranger from a land realms away, could read him so easily already…odd and vaguely concerning. Hadn't he built up enough walls over the years to keep people out? How was Mary Crawley able to see through them jut like that.
"Rumpelstiltskin killed her, not you. You shouldn't blame yourself."
"I should have saved her," he says gruffly, taking another swig of water and wishing it were rum. "I should have been able to save her."
They both fall silent, the only sounds the whisperings of the forest and the crackling of the fire in front of them. Then, she speaks.
"I was…betrothed. To someone. In my land. In Yorkshire."
He barely glances at her, even though she's caught his interest. This is something he hadn't expected, but given her beauty, it doesn't surprise him that she was promised to someone back in her home. "Is that so?" he asks, giving a shrug.
She nods. "He was…is a businessman. Self-made, new money. Everything that my family wouldn't necessarily approve of, but…there was a war and things were…different."
"They always are in wartime." It is the sailor in him that speaks, the naval lieutenant from long ago, not the pirate.
"I didn't love him. I never did. But I knew that he could provide well for me, that it would be a good life…and that it would keep me away from…someone else."
"Someone you did love?" he tries to keep the curiosity out of his voice.
She pauses, and then nods again, staring into the flames. "Yes. I…I did love him. I loved him very much."
Did. Loved. Past tense.
He swallows, reaching for the canteen again only to find it empty. His mouth is suddenly dry. "And…and now?"
Her silence seems to stretch on forever.
"We should get some sleep."