Before they know it, they're in sight of the docks.

The port is small but bustling, people who look like ants from this distance scurrying about here and there on various errands and adventures of their own. It's not entirely what Mary was anticipating, and she leans her elbows against the ship's railing to take in the sight. The Queen's castle is nowhere to be seen–Killian had warned her it was several hours' journey from the docks, maybe even a full day–but Mary can't help but feel as if the Queen's presence is felt here anyway. The wind picks up as they approach the port, and dark clouds threaten from the north. As they draw closer, Mary notices the people more and more–they walk quickly, their heads down, as if afraid to draw too much attention to themselves. She shudders. Just what sort of kingdom are they willingly walking into?

When they finally step off the ship and onto the docks, a rotund man all but scuttles over to greet them, causing Killian to scowl. Mary regards him icily, taking in his shabby clothes but entitled way of carrying himself–a man who fancied himself above his station in life, she decides–and the thick ledger in his hands. Killian grabs Mary's arm and tries to pull her past the man, but his shrill, bleating voice stops them in their tracks.

"I'll have you know that there's a fee to come aboard these docks, and I'll need a name to register your ship," the man says crisply.

From seemingly nowhere, Killian produces a velvet purse bulging with coins. "Will that about cover it? Provided, of course, that we forget the name."

The man's eyes practically glitter with greed as he waves them through, too intent on counting out his newfound bounty to pay any more attention to them. Mary rolls her eyes. "Pirate," she whispers to him.

But Killian doesn't respond to her little jab. His blue eyes are darting around the harbor, his jaw clenched tight. At first she thinks nothing of it–things have been rocky between them ever since he begged her to give up the quest and stay here with him–but when she sees genuine fear and worry in his eyes, Mary frowns. "What's the matter?"

"I have a bad feeling about this," he says softly. "It's too quiet. Something doesn't feel right."

"We've just arrived. What could possibly happen?"

"I don't know. I just have a bad feeling. Stick close, love."

They round a corner, and suddenly a cry rings out.

"Seize them!"

Suddenly they are surrounded, the now-familiar uniformed Black Knights coming at them from all sides. Killian shouts for Mary to run, but she fumbles in her bodice for the dagger he gave her, desperate to defend herself. The next few minutes pass in flashes–she sees Killian reach for his sword, only to find himself on the ground a few minutes later, the weapon just out of reach; she parries an attack from one of the Knights as another wrenches her free arm up behind her back, causing her to scream and drop her weapon. She cries out for Killian as one of the guards launches a savage kick at his ribs, and she struggles to escape only to find all her efforts are in vain. Killian yells and swears as he's dragged to his feet, his arms wrenched behind him just like hers, seemingly powerless in the arms of Regina's men.

"Well, well, well," a voice cuts in through the chaos. Mary twists in her captor's grip just in time to see a woman saunter through the crowd, which parts to let her through. She's wearing a vibrant gown of crimson–no, on second glance it's more of a jacket, covering up skin-tight leather trousers that might have made Mary blush under more pleasant circumstances–and her eyes are wild and chilling at the same time. Every inch of her is poised and regal, but dangerous as well, like a serpent ready to strike. "Look at what the cat dragged in."

"Damn you, Regina," Killian hisses through his teeth. He looks pained, and Mary wonders if he's suffered a cracked rib.

"Is that any way to speak to your queen?"

"You are no queen of mine."

"And you are a fool," Regina fires back. Mary swears that the queen is enjoying herself, and the thought sends a chill up her spine. "Did you really think that word of your quest wouldn't reach me? That you could plot to infiltrate my vault without me finding out about it? Come now, Captain. I thought you knew me better than that."

So Killian had known Regina before he met Mary. She wonders why he never mentioned it.

"Surely you know that I don't like to give up what is mine."

"Fine. You've caught me red-handed," Killian says smoothly. Mary notices that he's stopped struggling against his captor's grasp. "I confess. I was planning on stealing from you. I'm sure I deserve whatever ghastly punishment you're no doubt conjuring up for me in that little mind of yours." Mary watches as Regina's eyes narrow with annoyance. "But let the girl go. She had nothing to do with any of this. Just a stowaway who found herself in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Mary doesn't dare look at him. She can't, because she knows that he's trying to help her, and if she gives the game away now it might get both of them killed.

Regina scoffs audibly. "Please. You expect me to believe that?"

"Believe what you like. It's the truth. She's nothing to me, and nothing to you either. Let her go. She's not worth the trouble."

His words are like a dagger in her heart. Because although deep down she knows that Killian is lying, that he's trying to protect her by pretending he doesn't care, hearing him say that she means nothing to him is more painful to her than she ever imagined it would be.

"Is that so?" Regina asks, her dark eyes flickering between Killian and Mary. Mary cannot help but think that she looks like a cat toying with her prey. "Well, if you say so. If she really is so expendable to you…"

She crosses the few remaining feet over to Mary and plunges her hand into her chest.

"No!"Killian's anguished howl echoes in Mary's ears, but soon she can hardly hear it over the burning agony she feels as Regina tugs her heart from her chest. She falls to her knees only to be hauled up again by the Black Knight, watching as Regina stares at her heart thoughtfully.

"Interesting," she remarks. She gives it an experimental squeeze, and Mary gasps again, her vision growing black at the edges. "And yet you claim she means nothing to you. I figured it would be easier for the both of us if I just killed her then. Are you sure you won't reconsider? Less baggage to carry. Not that you'll need any where you're going."

"Please," Killian begs. Mary struggles to see him through eyes blinded by pain and tears. "Please. Let her go. Don't hurt her. I'll do anything. I beg you, Regina…"

"That's Your Majesty to you," Regina corrects in a low voice. She squeezes Mary's heart again, and this time she does fall, sinking to her knees with a whimper. She can't breathe, she can't move, she feels like she's drowning on dry land and all she can think is that she's let Killian down, that she has condemned him to watch another woman he loves be killed before his very eyes…

I never should have brought you into this. It's all my fault… I'm sorry, my love.

"Please," she thinks she hears him whisper. "I'll do anything. Just spare her."

And then everything goes black.

Mary is sinking.

No, she's not sinking, she's floating, floating in a sea so warm and welcoming that for a moment she thinks she might just surrender and let the sea claim her. If this is death, maybe it isn't as bad as she always feared. She thinks for a moment of Matthew's words during the war, how the men at the front would pray for a clean death. She understands now. She understands how tempting it is, how easy it would be for her to just let go…

But there, in the back of her mind, a voice is calling her name, sounding lost and far away. She tries to look up, but the ocean is thick and black around her. But she doesn't need to see. She knows that voice. She knows it as well as she knows herself.

"Mary…come back, my love. Don't let her win. Come back to me."

She raises her head and kicks for the surface.

When she opens her eyes, she is cradled in Killian's arms as he rocks her back and forth. Regina and her Knights still surround them, but they have released them for the moment, and Regina is looking down at them with a mix of curiosity and distaste. The hands that once held Mary's heart are empty, and Mary's hand sluggishly flies to her chest. Her heartbeat is there–quick and erratic, like a hummingbird's wings–but there. She is alive.

"So dramatic," Regina remarks to no one in particular.

"Mary," Killian whispers again and again, pulling her tightly against his chest, stroking her hair, kissing her temple. "God, Mary."

"It seems she has some fight in her after all, your little stowaway. There's more strength in that heart than I realized."

"I could have told you that," Killian says, although he never takes his eyes off of Mary. She blinks blearily up at him, almost forgetting about Regina for a moment, reaching out a hand to rest against his stubbly cheek.

"It'll take a lot more than that to get rid of me, Killian Jones," she whispers. "You're stuck with me now."

"Get them up," Regina hisses, her voice thick with contempt. "And take them away." She gives Killian a hard look. "Didn't anyone ever tell you, Captain, that love is weakness?"

Her words haunt Mary all the way back to the Queen's dungeon.