Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time or any of the affiliated characters. But I do own a Captain Hook t-shirt, so at least there's something.

3. Want

He wasn't sure why it bothered him so much. It shouldn't have bothered him that much.

Actually, it shouldn't have bothered him at all. He'd gotten the bean - not fairly, but he rarely did things that could be considered "fair," especially by the people of Storybrooke; Charming's morals practically needed their own seat at the kitchen table.

His didn't. Once upon a time, they had been like that, but not anymore.

So why was he not gone yet? Why was he still holding the bean in his hand? He ran his thumb along the smooth surface. Its power made his palm tingle.

All he had to do was throw it into the water. It was such a simple action, and then he'd be back in his world, on his ship, doing whatever the bloody hell he wanted to do.

He could have been there and back twice at this point. Why was he still thinking about her and her stupid town and her silly people and her problems that were most certainly not his.

He shook his head, unable to believe that it had come to this. Annoyance in every step, he walked away from the starboard side and went below deck to his cabin. At his desk, he pulled out the middle drawer on the left and removed the false bottom.

There it was, sitting exactly where it had been left when he had been entrusted with it. He'd been allowed full use, but never found the need. He always knew exactly what he wanted.

Until now.

Frustration about the whole situation resurfaced. He grabbed the small box and slammed the drawer shut.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered a minute later, back on the deck again. To his left was a crate where he placed the bean. On his right, a mile away but still visible, was the town.

Looking down at the box in his hand, an unfortunate feeling developed in the pit of his stomach and hardened like a rock. He was positive he knew what the outcome would be, but he flipped the lid up anyway.

The pointer spun vigorously, slowed, and finally stopped.

It wasn't pointing left.

"Damn," he breathed. Wanting to want something wasn't enough.

He flicked the pointer, making it spin again. This time, the stop was much more abrupt.

It still wasn't pointing left.

"I'm going to regret this."

Reviews make my heart sing! Also, anyone know where the compass comes from? ;)