Jack took a swig of rum from the bottle he was carrying and stumbled. After catching the wall to regain his balance, he brushed off his shoulder and carried on. He tightened his grip on the neck of the bottle and turned down an alleyway toward the tavern where he knew his captain was drinking with some of his fellow crew mates.

He reflected on how he had always been told that women onboard a ship were terrible luck, and he had learned to hate having them around. All he found women good for was a bit of fun at the port.

Yet when he was honest with himself, and when he was drunk, he was incredibly honest; Emma seemed to be a bit of good luck for him. He was always looking for ways to ingratiate himself with the captain, and stumbling upon knowledge of her whereabouts seemed likely to benefit him.

While he hated women onboard, there was one thing he hated even more. New crew members. They always meant a smaller share of the gold, which he detested. And since he didn't believe that, even if Emma were to come back on board, she would be considered one of the crew. He saw the way the captain watched her. He wouldn't want to give her a share of the gold. His captain would like to purchase things for her himself.

After all, he always did that with Milah, no matter how much the chit didn't deserve the spoiling. Jack smirked, although she was utterly uninhibited sexually. It was something he knew from first-hand experience. The woman got off on danger, and sleeping around on a man like the captain was very dangerous. And in the end, it all worked since he never discovered just how many of the crew she had slept with.

Jack took a long swig and cocked his head, and really thought about the list of men she slept with. It was curious to him how he was the only man on that list that was left still aboard the Jolly Roger. Two died in battle, one fell from the rigging during a storm and drowned, another two disappeared from service in the confusion after the Dark One took Killian's hand, and three died of alcohol poisoning.

He raised his bottle and toasted himself, "To the last man standing. I wonder if she was a sex curse," he reflected. "Look at what happened to those poor slobs, and even Killian lost a hand."

Continuing to stumble along, he kept directing his steps toward the tavern. He had a task to accomplish, and he hoped Emma could be persuaded to come back on board by the captain. After all, Killian was a hard man but an appreciative one. He knew he would be rewarded for helping point him in her direction.

He smiled as he continued. He realized this one woman might not be bad luck after all.

Killian paced himself as he drank at the tavern along with many of his crew. And this time, the reason was different from any other. He couldn't get over the concern that Emma might end up needing his help. And to truly be able to help her, he would have to be sober.

He took a sip of rum and placed his glass down carefully on the scarred wooden tab. His eyes locked on a small knot in the wood as he thought about where she could possibly be and wondered what in the world she could conceivably hope to accomplish in a random port town. She didn't have any particular direction she had been heading other than just away from home.

He heard the door bang open, and he turned to look, seeing Jack stumble in, smiling. He watched as the man held up a half-full bottle of rum and shouted, "I know where the lass is." Being drunk, he wasn't subtle and didn't wait for his captain to ask.

Killian tried to hide his instinct to flinch at Jack's words. Despite what the man thought, Killian knew he had taken a great interest in Milah. He worried why Jack had made a point of discovering her whereabouts now. He admitted against his jealousy that Emma wasn't the type of woman that Milah had been –one that would apparently spread her legs for any man that wasn't her husband.

"And?" Killian asked, not bothering to pretend that he didn't care. He knew he wouldn't get away with that lie based on his other crew members' expressions.

"Edge of town visiting the village weirdo. The one that calls herself an Oracle," Jack replied, making his way to Killian's table and pushing Murphy out of his seat. As he sat down, he added, "The way back to town isn't through a good area. Someone could have seen where she went and be lyin' in wait for her. Thought you'd like to know, Capt'n."

"And you decided not to keep the lass safe?"

Jack shrugged, "Thought you'd like to do that bit of rescuin'. You're the more heroic type, and she seemed partial to you."

Not caring how it looked, Killian stood, demanded instructions on how to get there, and then walked out of the tavern as soon as he had received them.

Once he was on the dusty road, he found his bearings and headed off. One of the many benefits of being a maritime man was that it didn't matter how much alcohol you drank. Your sense of direction never failed. He believed that Jack would have to be blind drunk in order to get the directions wrong.

He made his way through an area heading towards the outskirts of town, and his skin crawled. Jack was right. It was precisely the type of place a man would lie in waiting to sneak up on an innocent, beautiful woman.

He cursed as he turned the corner and saw Emma.

Emma woke, groaned, and brought her hand to the side of her aching head. Based on the pain, she was unsurprised by the blood she saw on her hand when she pulled it away.

Looking up at Killian, who she saw crouched over her prone form, she asked, "What happened?"

With a grim face, he responded, "You were attacked from behind." She watched as his eyes darted to her right and then focused back on her. "He got to you before I could stop him."

She looked to her right and saw some man there lying dead. Blood was pooled on his chest from an obviously vicious stab wound. Closing her eyes, she turned her head away. "Magic?"

"I don't understand the question," Killian responded. "Are you asking if I did that with magic? No. That was done with my sword."

Emma shook her head and looked at him again. "I mean, what kind of magic does he have?"

Killian gave her a confused look and said, "A weasel like that doesn't have magic. He used a rock." He then picked up the rock and held the bloodied thing up for her inspection. Why would you think he had magic?"

"He attacked me," she responded, trying to sit up. Killian wouldn't let her.

"Aye, scoundrels like him do that when they see a pretty woman. It wasn't magical, just lust, and he got what he deserved."

Tears flowed to her eyes as the realization struck. She had been attacked, entirely by surprise, by someone who was "normal." She looked at the man again and shuddered. What Killian said made sense. He probably didn't have magic. But how was it possible she was attacked?

"But how?"

Killian turned her face away from the dead man. "He hid around a corner and struck you with that rock. That's how."

She shook her head a bit, despite how much it hurt. "But I'm trained to protect myself." And I have an incredible amount of magic, she added in her head.

"From sneak attack? You might be able to steal my sword, but that's hardly the same thing."

Closing her eyes again, she fought to think through the pain. "I'm not completely sheltered. I've been taught other things too."

"Okay," Killian said placatingly. "Not to be rude, but the fact is that he knocked you unconscious."

"And you killed him," she whispered.

Killian scratched the back of his neck with his hook. "And that upsets you?"

"No. I'm just…" She sighed. "My head hurts, and it's hard to think. I'm putting things together." Frowning, she said, "Like the fact that he was able to sneak up on me."

"You don't think you can be snuck up on?" He questioned, confused.

"Obviously, I can be," she grumbled.

Emma then focused her eyes on the nearby house as she thought as best she could. She considered the fact that a non-magical man was able to sneak up on her and bash her on the head. In the first town she had even been to on her own. Even with all her training and her vast amounts of magic, it was able to happen.

She looked back at Killian, and with a tear leaking down her cheek, she asked, "How can I defeat the Evil Queen? I can't even walk around a corner safely."

He bent over and picked her up in his arms, and started walking. "Well, from what I hear, she's not the subtle type. I didn't think she'd try to bash you with a rock. On top of that, I do believe I told you that you were going to get yourself killed."

She didn't acknowledge his comment and asked, "Where are you taking me?"

"Jolly Roger. Alistair, the ship's doctor, will patch up that bleeding head of yours."

"The town doctor isn't good enough?" She countered.

"I don't know the answer to that. I do, however, know I have an exceptional doctor that I pay good money to take care of my men. I would rather think you'd prefer to be taken to a doctor that I can vouch for. Of course, that's if you'll take a pirate's word on anything."

"Don't," she chastised. "You know I don't discriminate against pirates. You're just trying to manipulate me into going along with you."

He chuckled, "Is it working?"

Emma let herself rest in his arms. "My headache is doing most of the work for you. I don't have the energy to fight."

She closed her eyes for what felt like a moment for her. Then she was being shaken awake.

"You okay?"

"Who are you?" Emma asked.

"Alistair. How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Two."

"Good," He said, smiling before she faked falling right back to sleep. She didn't want to talk to anyone while her mind was racing with the fear of what had just happened.