"The hell was that?" Pinocchio complained, sounding unduly agitated by his disappointment. "How is a pirate ship supposed to gather any plunder if you sink your targets before you can even board? What was the point of that?"

"The point of that particular battle," Hook elucidated, sheathing his sword. "Was a bit of revenge, and perhaps some entertainment. Ships like that one carry very little of value, and less that can be traded discreetly. Try not to worry yourself. You'll get a chance to bloody your blade soon enough." He raised his brows at the pertinacity of the grip the man still held his sword in. His knuckles had gone white from it.

Pinocchio's grip slackened and tightened several times on the hilt in quick succession, and his jaw worked as if deciding whether to protest. In the end, he bit his tongue and returned the sword to its scabbard with obvious frustration. The man had an undeniable eagerness to shed blood. That could be a useful quality in a pirate, but Hook knew it was a form of hunger that would be sated one way or another, and he knew he would prefer to choose the way himself than to have Pinocchio go seeking an outlet. He would need to be on the hunt.

"Hook! Get down here!"

Spinning to see, he called back. "Who dares to give me an order on my ship?"

It was Baelfire's head poking up out of the hatch. "Emma's hurt," he answered simply. It was enough.

"Carpenter," Hook addressed Pinocchio without looking at him, making an attempt to keep his face free of expression even as his blood ran cold. Panic would serve no one well, and so he refused to show it, and he tried not to feel it though it prodded at him maliciously. "Let's see if we need to put your skills to the test." Then he moved with urgency to reach Emma's side as Pinocchio trailed behind him, slower than he would have liked.

Down on the gun deck, Emma was sitting on the floor and leaning back against the wall. Her face was strained and ashen, and she clutched at her left shoulder. Below her hand, her arm hung limp and misshapen at her side, with an unnatural extra bend between her elbow and shoulder. Hook dropped down to his knees beside her. "Emma," he breathed. "What happened?"

"I got hit." She forced the words out through clenched teeth, her breath coming sharp and deliberate. She jerked her head toward the new opening in the side of the ship's hull where sunlight now streamed in.

Normally, such damage to his ship would have infuriated him, but he was too preoccupied to indulge in ire. "By cannon fire? How bad is it?"

"Let me look at her." Pinocchio finally completed his approach, far more casually than Hook appreciated. He knelt down at her left to begin his examination, his features betraying nothing about the nature of his findings. When he carefully lifted her arm, Emma winced and released a short whimper, and Killian had to resist the urge to lunge at the man with violence. Possibly sensing this, Pinocchio glanced at him before informing Emma of his conclusions. "It wasn't the cannonball – more likely one of the boards it blasted off. A direct hit from the ball would have shattered the bone to pieces and probably would have gotten a few of your ribs too. You got lucky. It's out of position, but it's only one break and it seems pretty clean. That makes it a lot easier to fix."

"So you can fix it, then?" Killian urged. "You can heal this?"

"It'll heal itself over the next few fortnights," Pinocchio explained dismissively. "We just need to put it back where it belongs before it does, and ensure that's where it stays the whole time. I need bandages. Strips of fabric. Something I can wrap it with."

"I'll get 'em," Quinn's voice asserted. Out of the corner of his eye, Killian saw the man's hulking form duck out through the doorway.

"I'll also need..." Pinocchio muttered and trailed off, lowering Emma's arm as his gaze searched the room. "A-ha!" He snatched the longest of the broken boards up off of the floor as soon as he spotted it. It was roughly the same length as the distance from the top of Emma's shoulder to the bottom of her elbow. Holding it up to examine it, he smirked. Then he showed it to Emma. "This is probably the piece that hit you. Now it's going to help undo the damage it caused. It'll keep everything right where it needs to be after we put it there." He paused, studying her face. "How well can you tolerate pain?"

As concerned as he was, Killian had to suppress a laugh at someone asking Emma that question.

She scoffed, just as Killian suspected she might. "I can handle it," she informed him as she straightened up, exemplifying that obstinate pride of hers. "Do what you have to do. I'll be fine."

Pinocchio's smirk returned, and he nodded approvingly. "Glad to hear it." Again, he looked around the room, this time at its occupants. "I'm going to need someone to give me an extra hand."

"What do you need me to do?" Killian offered immediately.

In response, Pinocchio cast an eye down toward Killian's hook. "Make that two hands."

"I've got it." Baelfire stepped forward. "How do I help?"

Pinocchio gave the instructions almost mechanically, explaining what he was about to do. He had Emma scoot forward and showed Baelfire how to correctly position himself behind her left shoulder, with both his hands holding it steady. Killian shuffled backward to give them enough room to maneuver. He felt utterly useless. That is, until Emma's right hand found his and she laced their fingers together – a wordless gesture asking for his support. With a squeeze, he let her know that she had it. He wasn't going anywhere.

It wasn't much longer before Quinn returned, his arms piled full with linen strips, expressing his worry that it wasn't enough and offering to search for still more. Pinocchio assured him it was sufficient and had him hover nearby with the bandages at the ready as he took Emma's elbow firmly into both of his hands. "Ready?" He directed the question toward Baelfire and Emma alike, both of whom nodded confidently. With a swift motion, he jerked her elbow downward and away from her shoulder.

At once, Killian heard a sickening crunch along with Emma's keening cry of pain, but at least her upper arm formed a straight line again. He tightened his hold on her hand in an attempt to draw her attention away from her injured arm. He stroked his thumb soothingly over her skin and brought her knuckles to his lips. It only took a few ragged breaths for her to once again settle. She squeezed Killian's hand in return to reassure him that she was alright – as though he were the one that should require reassurance in this situation. It caused him to chuckle slightly as he kissed her hand again, but truly, he was relieved.

Working quickly, Pinocchio padded her arm then tied it to the board above and below the break. With all the linen that remained, he wrapped the arm and board together and knotted any loose ends of the strips. "There," he announced at last, feeling for her pulse at her wrist. "How's that? Feel a little better than it did?"

"Yeah," Emma sighed out. "I think so."

"Good. You'll have to be careful with it for longer than I think you'll want to. Even after it starts to feel like it's healing, you're going to need to be gentle with it or it's just going to break again. Understand?"

She hesitated, but thankfully, Emma finally nodded. "Understood." Killian knew full well that she would need reminding of that agreement later.

Pinocchio's expression suggested that his thoughts fell along the same lines, but he didn't verbalize his doubt. Instead, he turned his attention toward the hole in the ship's side. He rose and stepped toward it to inspect it with the same intensity and interest he'd given Emma's injury. When he'd made his assessment, he asked only where he could find the former carpenter's supplies in order to make the repairs.

Within a few hours, the hole was patched and Pinocchio's claims had been proven.