#daddyhook

The pain radiating from his stab wound was nothing he could not handle—but it seemed like a safer idea to allow the Dark One to assume one of them was already incapacitated; if need be, they would be underestimated, and he could use that to his advantage; he needed to.

And so, he allowed Milah to order his men around when he was helped to the helm of the ship by his First Mate—Gibbs. He gratefully drank from the water brought to him, not once letting his gaze waver from where Milah stood with the Dark One—the Crocodile—the Coward…

Rumpelstiltskin.

She lifted the transparent bean high for all to see, and he could see how the Dark One nearly gravitated towards it, making a grab for it. Milah’s eyes met his for a split-second; but that split-second was all they needed—before the Dark One could lay even a finger on the precious bean, she tossed it high, far enough for him to catch it and clutch it in his fist.

He would not let that snake get what he wanted until he got the assurance they would all live and walk away.

“You’ve asked to see it,” he spat, straightening, refusing to show any sort of weakness or vulnerability, “and now you have.”  Milah cocked her head to the side and faced Rumpelstiltskin once again—Killian tried desperately to push away the growing feeling of dread; something was not right—and asked, “Do we have a deal?”

Her eyes met Killian’s again for a brief moment, and there he saw all of his own concerns, his own fears mirrored.

It was not a comforting thought.

“Can we go our separate ways?” He tried to focus only on the Dark One’s moves; attempting to pick up on a threat; a sign that would give away his intentions—but there was naught to be found.

Killian ground his teeth in frustration—he could not read the Crocodile at all.

“You mean,” Rumpelstiltskin began, “Do I forgive you? Can I move on?” Killian exchanged yet another wary glance with Milah, before she turned her back to him, to face the Dark One as he paced on the deck, clearly enjoying his flair for dramatic speeches.

“Perhaps,” he mused, “Perhaps…”

When he turned to face them again, there was something so … sinister, so dark, in his expression, it nearly made Killian cringe; there was something not right—this was too easy.

“I can see you are twuly in love,” Rumpelstiltskin said—a statement Milah seemed to take as an admission; an acceptance to the pro-offered deal. Her shoulders sagged in relief and she exhaled—Killian could nearly see her tension flow away; but found his own only rising.

The Crocodile was not done yet—he was sure of it.

And he was right—as soon as Mila turned back to smile at him; a smile that made his heart thump faster; the Crocodile spoke again; venom dripping from each word he spoke.

“How could you leave Bae?”

Milah froze at the question, and even Killian swallowed harshly—it was a question he had asked himself many times too; how could she leave her son? For him?

He would never understand; and it had been the cause of many a fight between them; but he knew she agonized over that choice—he knew she loved and missed her boy above all else; and he knew that she would take the boy if they would get the chance.

“Do you know what it was like?” The Dark One hissed, “Walking home that night, knowing I had to tell our son—”

Milah gasped when several of the ropes and lines suddenly broke loose and whispered, “Rumple, please…” But to no avail.

It seemed all that would appease the Dark One now, was to have his say.

“—that his mother was dead?” the man finished, glaring at Milah; Killian closed his eyes in desperation and begged for Milah’s temper to be reined in.

She could not insult the Dark One—not this time.

“I was wrong to lie to you,” she replied, nodding along with her own words, “I was the coward, I kn—”

“YOU LEFT HIM!” he exclaimed, pointing one, blaming finger straight at Milah’s face, “YOU ABANDONED HIM!”

“And there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t feel sorry for that,” she yelled back, fiercely standing her ground; even though Killian found himself wishing that once—just this once—she would back down.

“Sorry is not enough!” He roared in response. Killian watched warily as Rumpelstiltskin approached her again—wishing he could intervene; but knowing this wasn’t his battle to fight. She needed to do this on her own.

She needed to lay this demon to rest herself—he later despised himself for thinking such a thing; I only he had intervened; but he hadn’t.

He stood by and watched as Milah stood tall and fought to justify the choice she had made.

A choice that had led her directly into his arms.

“Why were you so miserable?” Rumpelstiltskin whispered—and for the first time, Killian caught a glimpse of the man that had come aboard his ship so many years ago, asking him to return his wife to him.

He watched—frozen in place, uncertain of what to do—as Milah leaned closer and spat, “Because I never loved you.”

There was complete and utter silence on the ship for one, single, long heartbeat… And then all hell broke loose.

Killian barely had time to process what was happening before the Dark One shoved his hand into Milah’s chest—and all he could do was run to her; he remembered the searing agony that was to be felt when the Dark One groped around in his chest for his heart; all he wanted was to spare Milah from a similar fate—but before he came anywhere near them, the Dark One waved his hand once; and Killian found himself tied to a mast, unable to remove his bonds.

He was subjected to helplessly watching as Milah—his sweet, courageous, loving Milah—had her heart ripped from her chest by the man she had once been married to.

“No!” He cried, struggling against the ropes that held him bound to the mast, finally managing to cut them loose with the dagger he had stashed in his belt, stumbling towards Milah—just in time to catch her before she fell.

He tried to push away the guilt and the all-consuming grief as she looked up at him with those large, honest blue eyes he loved so much—trying not to fall apart at her last, breathy ‘I love you’, or her fingers tracing his jaw one last time, before she gasped and went limp in his arms.

“Milah,” he whispered, fighting back the hot tears, burning in his eyes, pain clawing at him—almost as though he had been ripped apart at the seams.

She could not be dead.

She couldn’t. They had a life together; a future; he could not go on alone; he needed her; she couldn’t be dead.

And as he gazed at the face of his love; the first woman he had ever loved; he felt anger build up inside of him; rage overtaking all of his other, basic urges.

“You may be all powerful now, demon,” he spat, slowly rising to face the monster that had killed her… Killed Milah…  “But you’re no less a coward.”

“I’ll have what I came for now,” the Crocodile spoke, his voice low, threatening—an evil grin plastered upon his face.

Before either of them could move, the soft pitter-patter of tiny feet on deck interrupted them—Killian’s heart; that felt like it had been ripped to shreds already; squeezed painfully at the soft, melodious sound of her voice.

“Papa? Why is Momma on the floor? Is she sleeping?”

His body tensed; his eyes closing in absolute and utter desperation and anger—because there is no way—no bloody way—that his crew allowed his daughter up on deck while that monster was still on his ship.

He took one, deep breath in an attempt to get the upper hand on his emotions, and opened his eyes, glaring at Rumpelstiltskin, whose eyes were now fixed on the small, six-year-old that had appeared behind Killian.

Slowly, he turned to face his daughter, praying for the strength to tell her that her mother was gone—that she wouldn’t be coming back this time. Praying that he could get his daughter far away from the monster that had ruthlessly killed her mother.

“Penny,” he said softly, as to not scare her, “I need you to go below deck. I’ll be right there, okay?”

She looked up at him with those big, impossibly blue eyes of hers, her lower lip trembling—his resolve wavered; he wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and never let her go again—just to make sure she would be okay—but he knew that he needed her away from the Crocodile more.

“Penelope,” he said, “No protesting. Go to our Cabin.”

“Oh now, dearie,” that dreadful, terrifying voice interrupted, and Killian automatically curled around his daughter, shielding her from the Dark One’s eyes, “Not so hasty,” he continued, that disgusting smirk still ever-present on his face.

“Please, do introduce me to this… beautiful little girl.”

Killian felt every inch of his body erupt in goose bumps at the veiled threat in those ten words. “No,” he spat. “Not her too. You took Milah from me, like I took her from you—you ruined our lives already. Leave. You do not get my daughter too.”

Rumpelstiltskin’s high pitched laugh echoed across the deck and made him cringe—but he stood tall. He needed to be strong for Penny now; she needed him to be strong, to protect her—and he would.

For his little girl, he would do anything.

“Then you best give me what I came for,” the Crocodile hisses, holding out his clawed hand—but Killian refused to be this gullible. “No. New deal. Swear you will not harm us—swear you won’t kill us; then I’ll give you your bean.” He regarded the Crocodile’s expression closely; he needed to be vigilant.

This … This demon wouldn’t hesitate to take everything from him just because he could; but he was bound by his own deals; so Killian did what he needed to—he made a deal with the man that killed his lover.

Rumpelstiltskin nodded and smirked, “I swear I shall not  kill you nor your precious little daughter. You will both live to see tomorrow. Hand me the bean.”

Before he could move though, Killian found himself trapped in thin air—it was as though he was being crushed between four solid walls; though he was surrounded by nothing but air.

“Papa!” Penelope cried out, running for him—almost as though she believed she could save him. From the corner of his eye, Killian saw the demon’s hand move, but he managed no more than a choked, “No!” before his daughter disappeared before his eyes in a puff of thick, purple and black smoke.

“No!” He cried, struggling against the magical bonds that held him tied down. “You swore you wouldn’t harm her! You said we could go free!”

“Now, now, dearie,” Rumpelstiltskin snarled, “I swore no such thing. You asked me not to kill her. I didn’t kill her—but you will live with the notion that she has to survive without you; somewhere you will never find her.”

Killian’s heart—already smashed and broken beyond repair—broke further; anger and resentment boiling up from a dark, evil place inside of him; a place he didn’t even know existed. “I’ll take what I came for now,” Rumpelstiltskin grinned, unmoving, his eyes fixed on Killian’s fist. 

Killian glared at him and spat, “You’ll have to kill me first.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Rumpelstiltskin smirked, “I’m afraid that’s not in the cards for you, dearie.” And with one, fluent move, he drew his sword and cut off Killian’s hand—Killian cried out at the white-hot, searing pain, doubling over as the bonds that held him magically disappeared when he fell to his knees, cradling his injured arm to his chest.

His breathing came in heavy pants, his mind and body both injured beyond repair—he was certain the Crocodile would be happy now. Killian Jones was no more—he would never be that man again; the man that lost everything in a matter of minutes.

He only looked up when the Crocodile spoke again, his sword laying against the thin, breakable skin of his neck. He glared at the Crocodile with unconcealed hatred, wishing he knew how to murder the beast that had taken his family from him.

“I want you alive, dearie,” the demon spoke, “I want you to suffer, like I did.” He giggled and stood, sheathing his  sword, turning his back on Killian—which he found a fatal mistake. Killian whirled around and grabbed the hook that had fallen earlier, before lunging at Rumpelstiltskin with a harsh cry, burying the hook in the man’s chest, praying that would kill the demon.

To his horror, all the demon did was giggle and smirk, “Killing me is going to take a lot more than that, dearie.”

He took a vow in that moment—a vow to his daughter, a vow to Milah—he would kill the man that had ripped his life apart. “Even demons can be killed,” he spoke, “I will find a way.”

“Good luck living long enough,” the demon spat, before vanishing in a billowing cloud of crimson, leaving the hook to clatter onto the now empty deck.

Slowly, Killian picked it up, looking over to where Milah’s body lay, and to the spot where his child had vanished into thin air, vowing to himself that he would kill Rumpelstiltskin—no matter what it took; he wouldn’t rest until the hook he was holding had pierced the demon’s cold, dead heart.

“I will avenge you,” he whispered to Milah, pushing back the burning tears in his eyes. “And I will find you,” he continued, whispering towards the sky, praying upon whatever God there was for the strength and determination to find his daughter and avenge her mother’s death.

Rumpelstiltskin would pay for what he took from him today.