It had all been a mistake.
He had been foolish. He had thought he'd known better. He should have known better. But he'd tempted fate by bringing them too close to lands controlled by Regina, lands crawling with her Black Knights. He'd gotten too cocky, ridiculously cocky, and had decided that Mary could handle a quick trip into Regina's castle. After all, if they were being sent by Rumpelstiltskin on a quest that would most likely claim their lives before the end, at least Hook would be able to die a rich man.
He'd done it before, stealing from royalty. But he hadn't counted on the Evil Queen or her Knights to be this cunning. Now he sits on a fallen log in the forest next to Mary, trembling from head to foot and bleeding from a gash on her forehead that she won't let him touch, staring into space.
He doesn't have to ask to know that its not the forest floor she is seeing, but the lifeless face of the knight he'd been forced to kill in order to get them to safety.
She's been through a war, he knows, but not in the way that he has. This is no doubt the first time that she's watched a man die, and although he knows that he ought to wish she'd toughen up—the man he had been before meeting her certainly would have—but right now, all he can do is watch her and hate himself for putting her into this position. Lady Mary Crawley doesn't show her vulnerability easily, and right now she doesn't look like the highborn lady she is but like a little girl, scared and lost and so very far from home. He killed the man in order to save them…but right now, all Killian Jones wants is for someone to tell him how to save her.
"I'm…I'm sorry," he said softly, glancing her way once again. Her tears have dried, but she's still shaking like a leaf, her cloak that the Dark One gave her pulled tight over her shoulders as if it can somehow protect her.
"Don't be," she whispers back, her voice steady but her tone unreadable. "You had to. I understand."
"Well, then I'm sorry you had to see it."
"Captain Jones," Mary says suddenly, her voice much stronger now. She always calls him that, by his title, never by his more colorful moniker or even Killian. Sometimes, he wishes that she would. "You saved my life back there. Stop apologizing for it."
Lady Mary Crawley. You're a bloody wonder, you are.
"As you wish," he murmurs.
He reaches out for her, desperate to comfort her in some small way, and she stiffens. But when his one good hand closes over hers, soft and smooth and so, so pale compared to his tan, rough skin, she makes no move to pull away. Instead, she grips him tightly as her shock finally wears off, not letting go as the forest darkens around them.