The following day Killian woke early, and he was clear-headed. That led to him wondering if his drinking had gone too far when he was puking on a willing woman and waking up on the floor fully dressed.

As he made his way to the ship's deck, his cook, Shorty, pulled him aside. "Captain heard you tossed your food all over that tavern wench." Killian's face grew stony as he tried not to blush. He wanted his crew to see him as in command of everything. Before he could say anything in response, Shorty continued. "Good news that was. You wouldn't have wanted to wake up next to her in the morning. She was…" he paused, shuddered, and then said, "Not to your usual standard if you know what I mean." Killian humphed and walked away briskly. He decided he really needed to slow down on the drinking.

Once he was up in the fresh air, he walked over to the ship's wheel, placed his hand on it, and looked at the wide horizon. As his crew bustled about their morning jobs, he contemplated his future. He felt a deep restlessness, and it startled him so much that he instantly stepped back. As soon as he did, it severed the feeling that had been stirring inside. He placed his right hand back on the wheel, and he almost cursed. It was his ship –apparently, she was restless. He racked his brain over how to cure a magical ship of a feeling.

He whispered, "What do you want?"

"Home" was the answer he felt in his bones.

"You're made of magical cedar; home is on dry land, you bloody daft ship." He had the profound feeling he was missing the point, and Killian figured that was her reply.

He took his right hand off the wheel and held up both arms. "Fine, then, if you know what you want –take us there. I will say I told you so when you realize that a ship can't go home." Much to his surprise, the ship's wheel started spinning, and they drastically changed course. He was knocked from his feet and fell backward. From his backside, he said, "Don't be such a bitch." He was sure that the long thick splinter that was then embedded in his right hand wasn't an accident. He stopped insulting his ship after that. He also left her to plot the course –her idea was as good as any, and he had just decided he needed a change in his life.

He got up and walked back to the ship's wheel, and without touching it, he said, "While I did mean that you can plot the course, just remember that we humans will need to restock our food and water from time to time." He figured his ship thought he was being annoyed when he received no reply –at least he wasn't on his ass again.

He later realized having just been in a port town meant his magical ship knew he had stocked up on everything they needed. And it appeared to him when they made a wide swing around his favorite port town for rum and women that he was right. They wouldn't be stopping there. It seemed to him like his magical ship didn't care about his baser needs. Of course, frustratingly enough, he remembered his own resolve to change –at least a little.

Two days into the ship's plotted courses, Killian sat down at the table in the captain's room. He grabbed a bottle of rum and poured some into a cup. He was careful to drink a bit slower this time. He smirked; it wasn't like he planned on completely reforming. Drink and women were still part of his life, just a little less in excess. Well, less drinking and not picking a woman for sex with alcohol-hazed senses.

He sipped his drink and pondered the daft idea of letting his ship choose his course. It sounded bloody crazy. He had to admit though he had no real plan of his own, and it couldn't be a worse decision than those he had been making lately.

Revenge was still paramount on his mind. It was all he lived to get for such a damn long time. And the Dark One's death at his hand was still something he craved. The palm of his right hand positively itched just to think about stabbing the monster through.

And that thought brought that damn Tinkerbell to mind. She was still back in Neverland. He didn't regret betraying her and leaving her fairy-ass there. She constantly pestered him, trying to make him a "better man." Still, there was one thing she said that got through his stubborn thick head. It was what prompted him to get so shitfaced the other night. She asked if he got his revenge; what happened then? Was revenge a good way to live? Then he heard the Dark One got his son back and was working with a powerful witch. That was when he realized he might not even get his revenge. He ordered two bottles of rum and worked to get very drunk very fast.

And now, with Balefire back, he was uncomfortable with the idea of ever seeing him again. It was that boy that made him realize that he really was a villain. He took Milah away from her son and helped her abandon him. He knew that feeling of abandonment on a visceral level –it hurt like hell, twisting in his gut and eating him alive. He always tried to shy away from what that suggested about the woman he had loved. He got a rock in his stomach every time he wondered how she could sail away from her son, never to see him again.

Revenge, hate, guilt, shame, and confusion were all tied up in his head. He took another sip of rum and sighed in disappointment. After all, nothing numbed his past, no matter how hard he tried.

He began questioning his decision and wondered if he'd gone crazy listening to his magical ship. Still, he resolved to follow his nonsensical decision. He asked his ship, "Can you show me the way forward?" He then finished his drink and went to bed.

A few days later, the ship sailed into a secluded cove –no port town, no dock. That made no sense to him. "Bloody hell, prepare the dingy!" He ordered.

Two hours later, he was walking through the thickening forest, wondering why his ship had picked here to stop. Yes, tall cedar trees were present there, but he couldn't feel magic in the wood like he could the Jolly Roger.

All that announced the coming of the massive change in his life was a light snap of a twig and the sudden appearance of a beautiful woman. A woman who was reaching out with her right hand, quick as lightning, and grabbing the hilt of his sheathed sword. He missed her wrapping her hand around the handle tightly. But he did marvel at how she then spun to her right, keeping a firm grip on the sword, chancing showing him her back. The element of surprise worked in her favor. Her golden hair and her cornflower blue dress fanned out all around her and caught the light, making her look otherworldly as she spun. When she halted facing him, it was with the steel of his sword tip pressed firmly to his neck in a stance that showed she knew precisely what she was doing with a sword –his sword.

"I'm in lust," Killian whispered out in awe.

She smirked. "I didn't have sex with men I can disarm so easily."

He held up his hooked hand, "really? A joke about my missing appendage."

"No, the hook I find exciting. It's a different appendage that I assume is lacking."