#millian ff

She’s determined. She’s impossible. He loves her for it.

He loves her.

Still.

“What is this?” Killian breathes.

Emma has to remind herself that he’s actually just said words. It doesn’t really sound that way in the moment. Because his voice doesn’t sound right. It’s not even soft, really, just a slight scrape of syllables against the inside of his throat and passing through chapped lips. There’s no lilt to it, nothing positive, exhaustion hanging from every letter and Emma tightens her hold on the back of his jacket.

There’s a fucking hole in it.

And it’s a fair question.

It doesn’t look the same, not with the hazy color of the sky behind it or how the shutters are barely hanging on outside, more than a few loose bits of wood on the wraparound porch that Emma has found herself thinking about with a startling amount of regularity.

“It, uh—well, it’s a house,” she stammers. She hates that. “Our—“ Killian tenses slightly, and Emma bites down on her lip so sharply she tastes blood. “Can you lift your legs, do you think?”

He grunts in response, even slower movements because Emma doesn’t trust her balance all that much either and they both flinch when the door to a house with less creaky hinges at home flies open. Mary Margaret’s standing there, breathless and obviously worried, tear tracks on her cheeks and Emma can dimly hear a baby crying a few feet away.  

“Oh, Killian,” she whispers, rushing forward and Emma tries to shake her head discreetly. It doesn’t really work. She’s going to blame her knees. “Look at you. Are you alright?”

And that’s an entirely unfair question with an almost too obvious answer, but Killian makes another nose low in the back of his throat.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Emma, couldn’t you—“ Mary Margaret continues.

For a moment she briefly considers yelling at her mother. But that’s just pent up frustration and her own lingering guilt and Emma has a list of people to apologize to, least of all the man still hanging off her side and there are more footsteps.

She shouldn’t have brought them here.

Not with an audience and goddamn swords everywhere. She can see Robin’s quiver of arrows in the hallway.

The house feels wrong.

“Can you just help us get inside?” Emma asks, tempering her own emotions and the small flickers of magic that lick at the base of her spine. “Please?”

Mary Margaret blinks. Her eyes jump, scanning Killian’s face and the bruises there, an eye that’s still swollen shut, but then she’s nodding and moving and Regina might mutter holy shit under her breath when she sees them.

“Emma, why didn’t you—“

She grits her teeth — something vaguely threatening, or so Emma can only hope, but then they’re a mess of shifted weight and unsteady steps and David is pacing in a living room that doesn’t look entirely familiar either.

Killian freezes.

Emma nearly pulls him to the floor with her.

That’s not ideal.

“Hook,” David exclaims, and Emma can just make out Regina’s less-than-subtle hand movements. He does not get the hint. “Where have you—we’ve been waiting and it’s…Emma, are you alright?”

She sighs. And not because it’s almost nice that her father has asked her that, but that also feels exceptionally selfish and Emma wants to get rid of the blood. She wants to do something.

She wants—

“Killian?”

He tilts his head. That’s it. No response, no words that don’t sound like words, just a slight shift and blood-caked hair that still manages to fall artfully towards his eyes and Emma holds her breath.

Milah has taken her jacket off.

And Emma isn’t sure why that feels important — as if she’s shed the costume she’s been forced into for the hundreds of years she’s been stuck in this actual hell hole, but something about it sparks in the back of her brain and her eyes dart towards Killian.

He swallows.

She can see the muscles in his throat move, the way his teeth obviously clench and how tight his jaw goes. His fingers grip her shoulder like a vice. Like he’s making sure she’s still there.

Like he’s making sure he’s still there.

Milah nods.

“Real,” she promises softly, steps that aren’t cautious or desperate. They’re balanced, like falling back into a memory and a moment and feeling, air that’s suddenly a little easier to breathe.

He exhales.

And Emma isn’t entirely sure what happens after that. Because it all seems to happen suddenly and impossibly slow, Milah’s steps crowding into Killian’s space, a hand on his cheek and his nose brushing the inside of her palm and she doesn’t flinch at the blood, Emma didn’t really expect her too and—“Are you alright?” she whispers.

Maybe it is a dream.

Emma blinks several times to make sure. She looks at her mother, glances towards her father, tries to focus on the crying baby she could probably time most of her breathing to at this point, but that would also require her to be breathing evenly and Killian shakes his head.

She didn’t expect that.

He’d told her he was fine. And she knew it was a lie — could hear the forced bravado even as he screwed his eyes shut and held onto her when the first few bits of smoke curled around their ankles, but this something else altogether.

This is—

“How long have you been here?”

“I don’t know, I—there wasn’t any light and I—“ Milah hums when Killian can’t finish the sentence, pushing up on her toes to brush the hair away from his eyes and something clenches in Emma’s chest when his eyes flutter shut.

It’s not jealousy.

It’s not. It’s something deeper, another brand of want and maybe even a few flickers of hope, trying to memorize exactly how easily his shoulders move when he takes another deep breath.

“You’re here now though,” Milah continues, “not quite sunlight out there, but sometimes if we’re lucky—“

“—You can smell the salt of the sea if the wind turns.”

“Ah, there it.”

Milah smiles, leans back as soon as Killian’s arm circles her waist and Emma is loathe to realize he’s kept his left arm trained at his side. She bites her lip again.

And part of her knows she should leave. Retreat back to the hallway and the arrows and the crying baby, but her legs feel like cement and David’s fingers have found hers, lacing them together with a soft squeeze.

So Emma doesn’t move.

She watches and listens and—

“I wanted to get out,” Killian mumbles, and those words are different. They’re not scratched out, they’re rushed over, as if he’s simply been waiting to admit to them and Milah’s smile turns understanding. Emma tightens her fingers. David doesn’t let go.

“Wanted to leave…would have done anything, but I didn’t deserve, Gods, what I’ve done, it’s—I…it was—it hurt, everything hurt and he was there and then he’d leave, but I could still hear—“

“—I know, darling—“

“—Couldn’t sleep, even when it went dark…it was always dark and—“ He takes another deep breath, eyes gone glossy and Emma should have moved. “Gods I’ve missed you.”

Milah drops back to her heels. Presumably because Killian’s knees also give up at that precise moment.

They drop down — no twisted limbs, but a few grunts of pain because his legs are cut too and there’s a rather large bruise obvious under a rip in his jeans — but Milah’s face doesn’t show anything except a quiet determination and her fingers move into Killian’s hair like there are magnets involved.

Emma isn’t sure there are magnets in the Enchanted Forest.

It’s a ridiculous thought.

Particularly when she hears the first hitch in Killian’s breath.

And the tremor that runs through him isn’t like anything she’s ever seen — no sign of Captain Hook or any hint of Darkness, not even the Killian Jones she’s come to love with every single fiber of her being, not really.

There’s nothing even remotely familiar, which is frustratingly cyclical considering the house they’re in and the place they’re stuck and Emma’s mind surprises her once more because the only thing she can think as soon as she realizes that Killian is crying is that he looks so much younger.

No jacket. No metaphorical weight. No armor.

There are no adjectives or precursors, no monikers, colorful or otherwise.

The color in his cheeks is blotchy, uneven dots of pink, Milah’s voice barely audible over the sound of his sobs and Emma can’t remember the last time she took a deep breath. Her lungs burn with the lack of it, but she doesn’t dare do anything except stand there and watch.

Her eyes trace over him, watch Milah’s fingertips ghost across his temples and the side of his jaw, dragging up the ridge of his spine and the bend of his neck, his nose burrowing into the curve of her shoulder.

Killian Jones cries.

And cries.

He mourns and mutters words into Milah’s t-shirt. Lets her push his own jacket off his arms, the leather dropping behind him with a soft thump and it takes a moment to tug the left sleeve over his hook, a terror that etches itself on his face as soon as he realizes.

“Don’t be silly,” she murmurs. And, well, that’s that.

Killian hums, head dropping back down and the whole thing starts again. Emma doesn’t blink. She watches, waits until the crinkles around his eyes disappear and the tension between his shoulder blades evaporates and—“It was so dark,” he whispers, more than once.

She’s going to need stitches in her lip.

She’ll ask Regina about a spell for that later.

“That’s over now,” Milah says, and it sounds like a guarantee. Emma hopes she can follow through.

Although she is ridiculously stubborn. Impossible, even.

Her fingers reach up to curl around the ring hanging over the front of her shirt.

And there’s more, all in rather quick succession — a glow and a voice that makes Emma’s heart jump, but she doesn’t actually cry and Milah’s smile as soon as she sees her son is enough to inspire just a bit more hope. She turns towards Killian before she leaves, another look that’s as heavy as it is light and he leans into her hand as soon as it cups his cheek.

“I love you,” she says.

He kisses the inside of her wrist, tucks a strand of hair behind her cheek. “And I love you.”

She presses up again, a quick brush of lips and then she’s gone and Killian glances over his shoulder at Emma. Neither one of them say anything, but they don’t really have to — not after all if it, life and death and quasi-life, but his eyes flash down to the ring she keeps toying with.

One side of his mouth quirks up.

“How do you know where we are?” she asked Killian, squinting at the reflection of the sun off the water.

“I check our position when the stars are visible. I know our speed and our heading and plot it on a map. Thus, I know where we are.”

She shuddered with a pang of homesickness. This was the farthest she’d ever been from the place of her birth.

“This is your home now,” Killian murmured, sidling closer and putting an arm around her waist.

She glanced at him, surprised. “Reading my mind now, are you?”

He grinned endearingly and shrugged.

Pulling out of his embrace, Milah folded her arms across her chest. “Listen, Killian, I intend to pull my weight on this ship. Tell me what needs doing and I’ll learn to do it. I’m not just here to be your…”

Killian’s expression sobered. “All right, agreed, but I’ll not have you slaving away in the galley or doing the crew’s laundry. It must be something befitting the lady of this ship.”

“Is that what I am?”

He made a poor attempt at a wink. “Aye, that’s what you are.”

True to his word, only another couple of days passed before Killian had her sitting with his first mate, learning about the way they kept the ship supplied and how the crew’s rations were paid and logged. The first mate, a grizzled old pirate named Cooper, admitted that he’d seen better days and that he hadn’t had much of a head for numbers in the best of them, and he seemed more than happy to hand over some of his duties to her. It made Milah feel valuable, and that the freedom she’d been longing for was beginning to truly feel earned.

Late that night, still riding high from that feeling and a little tipsy from her share of the rum, she found the courage to stand up for herself in another way.

Killian was climbing on top of her in bed, and she extended her hand toward his chest, holding him at bay. “I need more than this, Killian.”

He blinked at her in confusion. “More than what?”

She smiled, not wanting to bruise his ego, and swallowed down her own nervousness about discussing such an intimate topic. “Perhaps other women you’ve been with haven’t needed… I’m not implying you’re doing anything wrong, only that I need…”

Killian’s face fell. “I don’t please you.”

“No, you do, very much!” She sat up, letting her fingers trail over his chest. “You’re…” She chuckled nervously. “You’re the most pleasing man to look upon that I’ve ever encountered in my life, and I still can’t quite figure out what you see in me--”

“One of these days I’ll convince you of how beautiful you are, Milah--”

“But that aside, if we’re going to share a bed together on this ship for… for a while, I was…” She took a deep, steadying breath and closed her eyes. She couldn’t make herself state it baldly. “I need more,” she said again.

“Anything,” he answered quickly. “Anything you need from me, I’ll give to you, I swear.”

His youthful earnestness relaxed her a bit. “Come here,” she said, urging him to lie down at her side, and he followed her lead. Blushing, she pulled his hand over between her legs. “Can I show you the way I like to be touched?”

Killian nuzzled against her neck. “Of course, darling. I would love that.”

She guided his hand to her clit, using her fingers on top of his to instruct him how to knead and rub her flesh the way she herself did when she was alone, bending and pressing this way and that until he’d copied her rhythm. The way he’d touched her before had been pleasant enough, but his focus had been on putting his fingers inside her. Killian was a quick study though, and sensation sparked more and more intensely as he worked. Milah gasped and writhed against the bedding, all the while aware that Killian was scrutinizing her.

“That’s it, love, do you like that?” he whispered, his lips brushing against her ear.

Milah shuddered. “Yes.”

It was good, so good, but after a few minutes she felt herself plateau and she squirmed in frustration. She was very close, closer than she’d ever been with Killian, but either her mind or her body or both wouldn’t cooperate.

“I know what you need,” Killian said, and he shifted down the bed, his hand still moving against her. Milah lifted her head in confusion just in time to see him replace his hand with his mouth, and then he swiped at her with the flat of his tongue. The soft, wet pressure was unlike anything she’d ever felt, and she cried out.

“Bloody buggering fuck, Killian,” she panted. He chuckled, positioning himself as if he was going to stay down there for a while. It made her suddenly very self-conscious about her body, and her hand stole down to cover herself.

Killian bent down between the legs, his nose brushing against her knuckles. “Let me pleasure you, love.” He looked up and met her eyes. “I’ve been selfish. I want to do better for you.”

Milah’s breath caught. “All right… but you don’t have to do this.”

Killian continued to regard her over the expanse of her belly and breasts. “I won’t if you don’t like it, but--” He smirked. “I think you’ll like it.”

Cautiously, she moved her hand out of the way.

The next time he licked her, he actually moaned in appreciation. Milah threw her head back, overwhelmed with the way his attention made her feel.

“You’re delicious,” he said against the crease where her leg met her pelvis.

“Don’t be daft.”

“You taste like sex, love, what could be more delicious than that?”

There wasn’t any talking after that, and Milah’s self-consciousness bled away as Killian worked her up. When he focused quicker, more intense flicks of his tongue against her clit, Milah felt like a fire had been kindled inside of her, burning hotter and hotter until it exploded, radiating out through her limbs. She clenched her teeth together, trying not to moan too loudly. Just because the rest of the crew knew she shared a bed with the captain, that didn’t mean she wanted them to know every sordid detail about their sex life.

Killian continued to lick at her until she was flinched with oversensitivity, weakly pushing him away. “Stop, stop.”

He sat up on his heels, wiping his mouth off on his arm. “Was that good?” The expression on his face told her that he wasn’t fishing for compliments; he genuinely wanted to know.

“It was amazing.” She reached for his hand, pulling until he stretched out on top of her, his hips cradled between her thighs. “You’re amazing.”

Killian shifted his pelvis and thrust deeply inside her in one stroke. “No, you are, Milah.”

~*~

“Now you look the part,” Killian said, and she could hear the grin in his voice. “A true pirate.”

Milah studied herself as best she could in the small mirror, then looked down at the red blouse she wore, and the way the corset under it made her breasts look. Pretty fantastic, she had to admit.

“I’m hardly a pirate, Killian.” She smoothed down her flowing skirts. “But thank you,” she said, then added with a sigh, “I’ve never been able to afford clothes like this.”

“It’s nothing more than what you deserve, darling.”

“Captain!” came a call from up on deck. Killian levered himself out of his chair and kissed her cheek. “Let me go see what Cooper needs; back in a tick.”

After a minute, Milah felt the ship change direction, and for the first time she was able to compensate by shifting her weight without stumbling. Giving herself a little metaphorical pat on the back, she looked out the windows in their cabin, but the view from the stern of the ship only showed the churning wake that trailed behind them.

It seemed like they were increasing speed as well. Curiosity getting the better of her, Milah climbed the stairs and opened the hatch to see what was going on.

Killian was at the wheel, shouting orders to his crew. The men below hauled on ropes, adjusting the sails in a choreographed dance that still mostly mystified her.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

He gestured toward the prow. “Spice traders have found themselves in the wrong part of the sea at the wrong time. We’re going to make them regret the error.” He had a flinty gleam in his eye as they bore down on the smaller vessel.

Milah watched, apprehensive, as the Jolly narrowed the distance with the other ship. This would be the first time they’d engaged in actual piracy since she’d been aboard, and she had no idea what to expect. It struck her how incredibly rash her decision to run away aboard a pirate ship might have been.

“What are you going to do to them?” Her voice trembled.

Killian glanced at her, then summoned his first mate and handed him the wheel before pulling Milah aside. “See the flag they fly?” he said, pointing. She looked, but could only make out a smudge of blue in the distance. “That trading company is notorious. Opium, slaves… no merchandise is off limits if they can profit from it.” He grinned. “They’re one of my favorite targets.”

He didn’t say ‘only’ targets, she noticed.

“Will you kill them?”

“If I have to to protect you and my crew, aye. But if they surrender, I won’t hurt them. I’ll just unburden them of whatever they have in their hold.” He lifted her hand and kissed it. “Stay below until we’ve secured the vessel.”

Milah nodded, wondering as she returned to their quarters if she should add sword-fighting lessons to her daily routine.

Whatever Killian had meant by securing the vessel, it didn’t take long. After several minutes of nail-biting while she listened to shouts from above, a crew member named Johnson opened the hatch and shouted down to her. “Cap’n says it’s safe for you to move about freely, m’lady.”

They called her that: my lady. The irony that she had to run away from her husband and commit adultery with another man to be afforded such an honor wasn’t lost on Milah. She thanked him and mounted the stairs.

When she was up on deck, Johnson continued. “It were easy pickings, this ship, and it’s a rich prize.” He gestured toward the planks connecting the two ships. “You can go over and see for yourself. Cap’n’s over there now.”

Milah eyed the planks, which looked terribly narrow when she thought about crossing high above the water. Still, her new mantra since she’d joined the crew of the Jolly Roger was ‘I can do this,’ so she steeled herself for traversing one of them. Perhaps she could help Killian inventory the loot and divvy up each crewman’s share, thereby showing herself to be useful when they raided other vessels. She was so focused on not falling into the ocean and on what she might do to help the crew that she hardly noticed the blood on the deck of the other ship. It was only when she almost tripped over the body lying face up on the boards that she stopped, a scream caught in her throat.

The unknown crewman from the trading ship was young, probably no more than twenty. His eyes stared unseeing at the sky, his blood continuing to seep out at her feet.

Milah wondered if he had a mother somewhere, worrying if her son was safe.

~*~

“You all right, love?” Killian asked. His cheeks were red from the wind above deck, or perhaps from the rum he’d been drinking. She could hear the men celebrating as loudly as ever as the night wore on.

Milah took a swig of her own rum. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Just thought you might join us on deck for some revels, that’s all. Nicholson is asking after you; I think he might have a crush.”

“Killian, when you decided to become a pirate, why did you do that?”

His brow furrowed. “I told you, it was because of Liam.”

“Yes, because of Liam. Because you didn’t want to serve a king who could throw lives away the way Liam’s life was thrown away. Because you wanted to be free. That’s what you told me.”

She could tell he was starting to pick up on her mood. Folding his arms across his chest and leaning back against the stairs, Killian nodded. “Aye, what’s your point?”

Milah took another drink of rum. “So where does killing merchants fit into that worldview?”

“I told you, the trading company they work for--”

“Yes, you told me, but that wasn’t a ship of slave traders, Killian. Those were just… just middle men transporting cinnamon. That dead boy--”

“He attacked me with a sword, Milah; forgive me if I defended myself.” His eyes flashed with anger. “And those men were just as much a part of the system that killed my brother as anyone. What do you think kings and queens fight their petty wars over? Trade routes and profits.”

She sighed; this wasn’t an argument she wanted to have. “Today was the first time I’d ever seen a body run through with a sword.” Taking another drink, she added. “First time but not the last, I suppose.”

Crouching down next to her chair, Killian’s face softened. “I’m sorry, love. I should have shielded you from that.”

“There’s no point in shielding me from it -- it’s your life. And I suppose now it’s mine.” She shook her head and emptied her cup, longing for the rum to numb her pain. “I’m just missing Bae today, that’s all, and it’s making me churlish.”

Killian reached out and stroked her hair. “We could go back for him. Take him with us.”

Milah blinked, shocked at this offer, at the fact that Killian was so willing to make it. It showed a level of commitment to her that she hadn’t until that moment realized he felt. “We can’t bring a little boy on board a pirate ship. It’s too dangerous.”

“Perhaps when he’s older, then,” Killian countered. “We could offer him the chance to join us in this adventure when he’s a lad of, say, twelve.”

Again, the easy way that Killian seemed to imagine the two of them still together years from now knocked her flat. “As if he’ll ever forgive me for leaving him,” she scoffed.

“He will if he understands your reasons. We can make him understand, love.”

“Okay,” she agreed distantly, swayed in the moment by Killian’s earnest arguments. “Perhaps when he’s older.”

That night, she dreamed of the dead merchant lying in a pool of his own blood, but in her dream the merchant had Baelfire’s face.

~*~

Milah stood nervously, awaiting her turn to speak to the old woman in the market. She knew Killian was in one of the town’s shops at present, probably paying too much for dried beef and hard tack and limes, but today he’d have to manage without her, as he clearly had for a long time before she’d come on board.

Finally her turn came and she approached the woman. A push-cart containing of glass bottles full of the woman’s wares stood between them.

Hiding her nervous hand-wringing in the folds of her skirt, she said, “I need a potion to prevent me from getting with child. Word is you have something like that.”

“Aye, I have such a potion, but it will cost you,” she said, eyeing Milah with skepticism. “Few can afford it. Does your husband know you’re here?”

Milah almost laughed. Her husband hadn’t known where she was for almost three months. She hefted her coin purse. “I can pay,” she said, electing not answer any questions about her marriage.

She had been as cautious with Killian as she could be, paying attention to her cycle and insisting that he pull out during the times when she was more likely to get pregnant, but Milah had known plenty of women who had grown heavy with child doing exactly the same. She couldn’t risk it any longer. Not only was a pirate ship the worst place to raise a baby that she could possibly imagine, but she feared that Rumple’s promise to sell their second child to the shaman who saved Bae’s life might apply to her regardless of who fathered the babe. And who knew what sort of magic that shaman was capable of. When she’d finally shared that fear with Killian, he’d set sail for the port city of Boralus, where the local apothecary was known to be a powerful witch.

“Fair enough,” the witch said, crouching down and rummaging for a few seconds beneath her cart before emerging with a bottle. Milah handed over her gold and listened to the witch’s instructions. Tucking her purchase safely away in a satchel, she heaved a sigh of relief and turned back toward the town square to meet Killian.

Before she reached the meeting place, the sight of a set of charcoals and paint brushes in the window of a shop brought her up short. Looking down at her coin purse once more, Milah grinned and went inside.

~*~

She sat at the table in their quarters with her paper and charcoals arrayed before her, trying not to giggle. “This is ridiculous, Killian, I can’t draw you like this.”

Killian stretched his arms above his head before repositioning himself on the bed. “Why not? Don’t you like looking at me naked?”

Milah rolled her eyes. “Stop fishing for compliments. I just mean I’ve never drawn a man’s…” She gestured toward him, her cheeks heating up.

He trailed his hand down his chest and took the part of his anatomy she was referring to in hand. “What, this?”

Picking up her charcoal, she began drawing lines to approximate the way his broad chest tapered down to his waist and hips. “Don’t touch it; I’m definitely not going to draw you sporting an erection.”

Killian laughed and released his cock, returning his hand to his thigh. “Is that better?”

“Yes, now be still for half a minute, please. You fidget more than a little boy.”

“Oy, way to damage a man’s ego, calling him a little boy when he’s naked and vulnerable.”

Milah continued to sketch, looking up at him intermittently. “I don’t believe you’ve ever been vulnerable, naked or no.”

“You didn’t know me when I was an indentured servant,” he said lightly, but she could tell there was darkness underneath his words, and she immediately regretted the joke.

“I’m sorry, darling,” she said softly. She knew the bare outlines of Killian’s backstory, but she’d never thought much about how a childhood spent in servitude might inform the person he was today. It was probably no small part of the reason he’d become a pirate. So that no one would ever control him again.

She was working to get the fall of his dark hair across his forehead just right when he beckoned to her. “Take a break and come join me, Milah.”

She huffed, standing and stretching out her aching back. “Was modeling for me just an excuse to try to get me into bed in the middle of the day?”

He grinned, taking his cock in hand once more. “Perhaps. Is it working?”

Standing up to rinse the charcoal from her fingers in their washbasin, she hid a smile of her own. “Perhaps.”

Killian padded over behind her, wrapping one arm around her while he moved her hair aside with his other hand to kiss her neck. “The longer we’re together, the more I want you,” he whispered. “Why is that?”

Shaking her head, she closed her eyes and let herself enjoy the sensation of his lips on her. “I don’t know.”

He undressed her reverently, dropping to his knees at one point to press kisses to her breasts and abdomen. The adoration Milah saw in his eyes when he looked up at her had become familiar, and that itself was remarkable. No one before Killian had ever looked at her that way. She felt a rush of desire for him as she threaded her fingers through his hair.

He made love to her slowly, bringing her close to the edge with his fingers before sliding his cock inside her. He stayed up on his knees, looking down at her with that same adoring, rapturous expression while his fingers worked against her clit in time with his thrusts. Climaxing was easier for her now -- it was like so many other luxuries that being with Killian had made commonplace in her life. She cried out as she came, uncaring who might hear her. Killian stretched out over her, changing the angle so that they were chest to chest, thrusting harder and deeper until he followed her over the edge with a groan.

He held her close after, their sweat-slicked skin pressed together. “Gods, I love fucking you,” he said, nuzzling against her cheek.

Arching an eyebrow, she commented, “That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Killian ignored her gentle gibe. “I should go up and check on our heading, but I can pose again for you later if you want.”

She snorted. “It’s not always going to lead to sex, Killian.”

“Can’t blame a man for trying,” he said with a shrug and a wink. “But if you don’t find me to be an acceptable model, would you consider drawing a self-portrait? For me?”

Milah wrinkled her nose. “If you want a picture of a woman, I’m sure I could sketch the next buxom barmaid we come across in our travels.”

He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “I don’t want a picture of a barmaid. I want a picture of my love.”

~*~

It was a several weeks before she made an attempt at the self-portrait, and when she did every drawing ended up crumpled into a ball and thrown into the corner. She deeply regretted ever attempting to draw her own face, but she regretted it even more when Killian joined her in their quarters that night and picked up one of the discarded drawings, smoothing it out to look at it.

“Killian don’t, that’s not--” She sighed. “I didn’t want you to look at those.”

“I apologize, darling.” He frowned with contrition, but stole another quick glance at the drawing before Milah jerked it out of his hands and ripped it up.

“Do you have any that you haven’t discarded? That you’d be willing for me to see?”

She hesitated for a moment, and then opened her sketchbook to show him the one drawing of herself she hadn’t completely hated. She’d perhaps made her hair a little more perfect and lush than it was in reality, and drawn herself looking a bit younger than she thought she looked when she regarded herself in the mirror. The vanity of that made her blush, and her fingers itched to crumple the page up like the others.

“This one is beautiful too,” Killian said, holding it up to look at it in the light. “But you look so sad, love. Is that the way you see yourself?”

Milah wasn’t sure what to say to that. “I suppose I am sad,” she said.

Worry washed over Killian’s face. “What can I do to make things better, love?”

She shook her head in frustration. “I’m not saying that… The sadness doesn’t come from a thing that’s happened that you can fix, Killian. Sadness is just… it’s a part of me.”

He dropped to his knees next to her chair. “I thought… I mean, I know you miss Bae, but I thought being with me made you happy.”

That pierced her heart. Milah shook her head quickly, taking his face in her hands. “It does! It does make me happy, I swear. I’m not talking about that kind of sadness, I’m not talking about the kind of sadness that comes from unhappy events, I’m talking about… I’m talking about the monster.”

His brow furrowed with confusion. “What monster?”

Milah winced. “It’s a thing I started imagining when I was a girl, when a voice in my head would tell me that I was useless or lazy or… you know, that inner voice that berates you?”

Killian nodded. “Aye, I know it.”

“I imagined that it was a little monster, riding around on my shoulders, its tail curled around my neck. Whispering things in my ear to justify why I deserved the beatings I got from my father. Why Rumple’s cowardice was the cause of all my unhappiness, or that I was a terrible mother who should never have brought an innocent child into the world.”

“Or that your son would be better off it you were dead.”

Milah nodded, a tear slipping down her cheek.

“But if you know it’s that inner voice, then you know that it’s just your worst fears and doubts. You know it lies.”

“They’ve never felt like lies to me.” She let go of Killian to wipe at her tears. “It’s funny, even though I know it’s not really a monster, there was a part of me that thought I could outrun it with you. That if we traveled far enough and fast enough, to another part of the globe, that it wouldn’t be able to follow. But that was nonsense, of course.” A watery laugh grated out from her throat. “The monster is a part of me, it’s not something I can run away from.”

Killian leaned up toward her, taking her head in his hands, kissing the tears from her cheeks. “Don’t lose faith yet, my love. We’ll find a place where it can’t follow you. The wind in our sails and and the whole world in front of us. Put your faith in me and we’ll outrun that monster. Together.”

It was nearly nightfall before Killian found Fendrake. The man lived in a tent which was inconveniently mobile. He just seems to find you, was all anyone could say when he told them he sought the healer.

When he stepped inside the man looked unsurprised as though he'd been waiting.

"You made a deal with a man named Rumplestiltskin," Killian said, he hooked his thump through his belt loop, close enough to his blade need he draw it but with a facade of calmness.

"I did."

"I wish to know the terms of that arrangement."

"And why should I yield such information to you."

"Because you do not want me for an enemy," Killian replied tersely.

"Perhaps not," Fendrake smiled though and did not look worried in the slightest. A document appeared in his hand and the man looked it over. "What is it you want to know pirate?"

"What did he promise you?"

"A child. His second born child."

"His second born child?"

"Am I to understand congratulations are in order?"

"He has no second born child."

Fendrake sighed, "usually I don't have to bother reminding people that this is a binding contract until there is a second child," he grumbled irritably and the document vanished. Killian turned to go and Fendrake spoke from behind him. "Ah, he doesn't... But she will."

Killian turned slowly, his face a mask.

"I'll admit, it would be a stretch but deals can be funny things. Interpretation is everything. Let's talk, pirate, perhaps we can make a deal. To ensure my interpretation is to your liking." Killian smirked, he knew a blackmailer when he saw one.

"What is it you want, healer?"

"Your second born, of course. Your second born to ensure the safety of your first. I mean you may never have another child, so it's really-"

Killian moved so fast that the man didn't finish his sentence, letting out a small choking sound as Killian's blade flew, impaling the man through the heart. The man sagged and Killian pulled free the blade.

"Goodbye, healer." Fendrake collapsed, eyes wide and staring. Killian cleaned the blood from his blade with the sleeve of the dead man's tunic and sheathed it, leaving the tent without looking back.

When he got back to the Jolly Roger he found preparations to make sail underway, Milah hurried to meet him at the gangplank, her eyes flicking over him to ensure he was unscathed.

"Well?" she asked worriedly.

"It is done. The man told me that it is Rumplestiltskin's second child who is promised." Milah sagged in relief. "Then he told me it was a matter of interpretation and tried to interest me in the same deal. My second-born for my first."

"Killian, tell me you didn't-"

Killian shook his head. "He will be making no more deals." He glanced around at the men preparing to make sail and looked back at her with eyebrows raised. "What is this, Milah, I thought you'd want to stay. To go see your lad?"

"I did," she admitted.

"You… did?" Killian's face was confusion for a few seconds before his eyes widened. "The boy is below isn't he?" Milah nodded. "Your husband… let him go?"

"Not exactly. But I told him that this was best for everyone. What is he going to do if the soldiers come to take him away in a few years? Beg for mercy? I told him if he wished me to stop he'd have to make me stop. He didn't."

Killian nodded, "and the preparations?"

"Just in case. He's not… well liked and he won't fight his own battles so…" she shrugged. "Killian would you like to meet him?"

"Very much. What have you told him, about his father?"

"Not much. That his father loves him, but he can't protect him from the ogres on land, so we're going on an adventure at sea."

Killian nodded and Milah led him to their cabin. Bae was by the window when they came down looking over the water towards the port. He looked nervous but he smiled when he saw Milah.

"Are you sure Papa cannot come on an adventure with us?"

"No, my sweet boy. But we'll have fun won't we, you won't believe all the amazing things I'm going to show you." She ruffled his hair affectionately and he smiled. "I'd like you to meet someone, Bae," she looked over towards Killian who stepped forward now. "This is Killian, he's the captain of this beautiful ship."

"Welcome aboard the Jolly Roger, my boy."

They'd planned on being back in port by the time their child was born but the storm had raged for the better part of a week, blowing them off course and with only storm sails, their progress slowed to a crawl.

It would have been fine. If their child (daughter, Milah insisted,) hadn't decided she'd had quite enough of her sheltered life. She came several weeks earlier than they were expecting her and really he should have known Milah's daughter would be as eager to see the world as her mother.

But bloody hell now? The storm had been raging for days and everyone was exhausted. And to make it worse the midwife who had been sailing with them for the past month was seasick thanks to the storm. Killian slipped into the cabin, shaking wet hair from his eyes. The cabin pitched and there was a groan of discomfort from the midwife. She still looked a little green but she seemed better than she had been this morning thanks to her near constant nursing of ginger tea in his borrowed flask.

"I'm sorry, love," he said taking Milah's hand, "we should have been in port weeks ago in case-"

"You should be topside-" Milah hissed, squeezing his hand tight. The ship pitched again and he tightened his grip on the cot to stay upright.

"Aye love, I just wanted to see you."

The contractions would return soon, she'd been counting in her head and Killian had picked the worst time for a visit. "Killian, I love you-" Milah started.

"I love you t-"

"But if you do not get out of this cabin within the next 45 seconds I might just rip your spine out through your throat, understand?"

He kissed her hand, "Understood."

"Captain-" the midwife called as he made for the ladder. "Some fresh water and maybe some more ginger tea?" she asked and Killian nodded.

"I'll send someone with both. Anything else?"

"It would be pretty helpful if you could keep the ship steady-" she grumbled under her breath.

"I'll do my best, love," Killian replied.

The storm raged for three hours longer before finally beginning to calm and Killian almost wished it hadn't. Without the sound of wind and rain he could hear Milah's cries from the cabin and it broke his heart.

He hurried below to the hold to check on Bae. The boy had gotten his sea legs quickly after a rocky start the first few weeks and now he could sleep through near any storm. But not, apparently, through the muffled sounds of his mother's cries.

"Is she going to be okay?" Baelfire asked the second Killian opened the door to the hold.

"Aye, lad," Killian assured him, "she'll be alright" Baelfire dove forward into his arms and Killian stiffened at first, unaccustomed to such affection from the boy.

Things were not smooth between them at first, it was difficult for the boy not to feel like Killian was trying to replace his father when they had to explain to him that he was going to have a younger sibling.

Killian rubbed his back calmingly. "She's going to be just fine," he repeated, hoping desperately the nervousness didn't creep into his voice.

Their daughter comes screaming into the world and into the first sunlight the crew had seen in a week. Some of the more superstitious of the lot spin tales already, already wrapped around the finger of the child who calms the storm.

Killian is not particularly superstitious compared to some of the men, but the moment he sees his daughter wrapped up in her mother's arms something in him shifts, a subtle thing that he doesn't fully understand until later. He presses a kiss to the top of Milah's head.

"I was right," Milah teased lightly, "she's beautiful isn't she?"

"Like her mother. What's her name?" They had talked about names for her a few times but he left the final choice to Milah in this moment. After all, it's bad luck to name the babe before she arrives… (perhaps Killian is a little superstitious.)

"Charlotte," Milah said quietly.

Milah had been worried about having a child so young aboard a ship but Charlotte had never known anything else. She was not prone to fitfulness but the first time they took her on land she screamed like a banshee until her mother relented and took her back to the gentle rocking of the ship at harbor.

"Just like her mother," Killian teased when Charlotte relaxed, calmed by the familiar movement under their feet.

She'd gotten her father's eyes, to Milah's delight and though her hair curled like her mother's it was lighter and sun streaked. She thought it odd at first and asked Killian about it. He smiled and tousled her hair affectionately. It was the same color as Liam's had been.

Bae adored his baby sister. Watching them together, Killian couldn't help but think it was Bae who reminded him of Liam, even more than the girl with her uncle's curls. Bae was quickly developing a protectiveness of the little girl that reminded him so much of his own brother it made his heart clench.

By the time Charlotte is six years old she's the apple of not only her family's eye but of the entire crew.

There are men in Killian's crew who would gut a man as soon as look at them but they are all politeness when they finally receive their invitation to the little pirate princess' weekly tea party.

Killian is half buried in a chart, his attention split between checking Bae's calculations and his little girl, who is currently reminding "Mr. Donovan" not to put the teacup down too hard or he might break it.

"Oh, right, of course," Donovan says apologetically and is rewarded with a bright smile.

"Thank yooooou!"

He glances up again when she she gasps in dismay and she is staring intensely across the table.

"Mr. Jacobson!" she chided, "That was the salt you just put in your tea!"

He struggles to bite back a smile and glances across the desk towards Bae who is not even bothering to hide his adoring smile. He's 14 now and starting to take on more duties around the ship starting with this. Navigation is not his favorite subject but when he puts his mind to it he does quite well.

"Well done, mate," Killian affirms when he finishes looking over the boy's work, Bae nearly glows with pride and Killian ruffles his hair affectionately, "we'll make a navigator of you yet!"

There is the sound of a scuffle from above and Killian tenses. The hatch opens and a man calls down.

"Unfriendly company captain-"

Killian shoots to his feet and looks at Bae, "stay here, watch after you sister."

Bae nods and Killian glances at the men who had been having tea with Charlotte, he jerks his head at them and they follow him topside.

Milah is talking to a man with his back to the when Killian gets onto the deck but he can read it in her posture, she's afraid. He hurries to her side and when he looks up at the man his blood runs cold too.

"Rumplestiltskin-" he says quietly and the man giggled.

"It's always nice to make an impression. You may have heard of me under a different name now, pirate. The dark one. Oh! I see my reputation precedes me."

Killian stiffened but Rumple continued. "Do you know what it's like to have your wife stolen from you? To feel powerless to stop it? It feels like having your heart ripped from your chest. Actually, let me show you." He reaches out and shoves his hand into Killian's chest. Killian doubled over with a hiss of pain. .

"No!" Milah cried, stepping forward. "Please don't hurt him."

"And now you beg for the life of your true love, the pirate. I didn't realize the power of true love before. It is impressive. I'd hate to break it up. Actually, no. I'd love to," he squeezed Killian's heart for emphasis and Killian fell to his knees with a groan of agony.

"It's not him you're angry with Rumple."

Rumplestiltskin chuckled and released Killian's heart. "I assure you I can be angry with more than one person at a time. But you're right… priorities. Do you know what it was like walking home that night…"

"Rumple…"

"Knowing I had to tell our son…"

"Please."

"that his mother was dead?"

"I was wrong to lie to you. I was the coward. I knew that."

"But that wasn't enough for you. You came back. You stole my son.I want my son."

"He's not here," Killian broke in quickly. "A seafaring life was too dangerous for a boy so young."

Milah nodded, latching onto the tale, "We asked a fairy to take him somewhere safe, to a realm far from the ogre war. Somewhere he'd be safe until he was old enough."

"You told me I couldn't keep him safe," Rumple hissed at Milah, "and then you send him off with some fairy."

"We just wanted to keep him safe-" Milah said carefully.

"Oh did we?" He glanced at Killian with unconcealed disgust. "We could have kept our boy safe, together," Rumple hissed, "but you tore our family apart."

"Our family was a miserable prison," Milah snapped, anger and desperation rising in her voice.

"Why were you so miserable?" the dark one sneered.

"Because I never loved you!"

In an instant Rumplestiltskin's hand is in her chest emerging with a glowing red heart. "Milah! No!" Killian charged towards Rumplestiltskin but is shoved backwards by an invisible hand. Ropes snake around him and he struggled against them, finally managing to free himself. He catches her as she falls and cradles her gently. She reaches for him, her fingers a gentle pressure on his cheeks. There are a thousand words in her eyes, sorrow, worry, fear, an apology. They are all left unspoken save one.

"I love you."

Rumplestiltskin's hand clenches and Milah stiffens for a moment before relaxing in his arms.

"No-" he mumbles. He lowers Milah gently to the deck, his hand brushing gently along her cheek for a moment before turning enraged eyes on Rumplestiltskin. "You may be more powerful now, demon, but you're no less a coward."

"I'll have what I came for now," Rumplestiltskin sneered. "You see, I think you're lying. I think you do know where my son is. I think you're going to tell me where he is-"

"You'll have to kill me," Killian spits, reaching for his sword.

"Ah, ah ah-" In a moment of agony fire explodes up his arm and he collapses in pain his left hand and a growing pool of blood on the deck. "Not until you tell me what I want to know-" Killian grabs a hook, driving it into Rumplestiltskin's chest but Rumplestiltskin just giggles.

"Killing me is gonna take a lot more than that, dearie."

"Even demons can be killed. I will find a way," Killian growled.

Rumplestiltskin raised a blade to his chest, settling the point above Killian's heart. "And how will you do that if you're dead? Tell me what I want to know, pirate, and maybe I'll let you live long enough to try to kill me. Otherwise this is just going to get really messy."

Killian hisses in pain as Rumplestiltskin leans forward, the point digging into his chest above his heart but unable to back away, held in place by some magic.

"NO!"

Killian's eyes widen in shock as Bae's voice echoes across the deck.

The magic releases him and he falls, his head spinning from pain and blood loss. In a moment Bae is in front of him, standing head held high between the dark one and Killian.

"Bae-" the dark one says quietly, his eyes softening slightly.

"You like deals," Bae said, only the slightest tremor in his voice. "Here is my offer. I will come with you, you will leave Killian and this ship alone. You will not harm him or anyone else aboard."

"Baelfire, no-" Killian murmured in horror.

The dark one looked genuinely perplexed for a moment. "Bae, don't you want to come home?"

Home? Baelfire's eyes slipped to where his mother lay on the deck and he fought the tears that threatened to come.

"That is the deal," Baelfire said. "You can take me by force, you can kill Killian and sink this ship but if you do I will run. Any and every chance I will run."

The Dark One nodded and Baelfire turned, kneeling next to where Killian had fallen leaning close. Killian wrapped his good arm around him, his embrace too tight, as though he could stop this just by holding on tight enough.

"I'm sorry, papa," he whispered in Killian's ear, too quietly for the dark one to overhear. "Take care of Charlotte."

And then Bae was gone and Killian fell forward, the place he had been only a wispy smoke remained.

For a moment no one moves then he shifts closer to Milah his remaining hand reaching for her as for a port in the storm. She's gone. Bae's gone and Charlotte- A sudden bolt of panic strikes through him and he's on his feet again. His mind has gone fuzzy from the pain and grief and loss of blood but he makes for the cabin anyway, the last place he saw her. He stumbles below, horrified that at any moment he'll find her beyond his reach like her brother, or worse... still and broken like her mother

The cabin is empty, the table still set for her afternoon tea party but she's gone. Half delirious with pain and grief he sinks to his knees.

Gone. They're all gone.

A hatch opens and Charlotte comes flying out and into his arms, he clings to her tightly, terrified she'll vanish if he lets go.

"I'm sorry papa, I know the rule, Bae told me not to come out until I hear the safety word but-"

He just holds her tighter, not trusting his voice.

Later he'll regret it, letting her see him like that, bleeding and terrified, but at this moment he can't do anything but cling to her. Darkness is creeping into the edge of his vision and he can feel the blood seeping into his clothes from his left arm, still hidden under his coat from Charlotte's view. She knows he's hurt, and he can see the tears slipping down her face. Doubtless she can smell the blood, see it seeping through, probably she can feel him shaking but he keeps his arm hidden beneath his coat, he can't stand the idea of her seeing that.

He wants to say something, to tell her he loves her but the words get caught in his throat. With the state he's in, he knows he's got about even odds of closing his eyes and not opening them again. She'd be alone and unprotected and his last words to her will break her heart just as Milah's had broken his.

Finally he lets the doctor pull him away from his daughter. Some part of him wants to try to protect her by letting the crew take her away, but he knows that's not the kind of protection she needs right now.

"I need you to do something for me, little love," he says gently. His voice comes out gruff and weaker than he'd like but she nods immediately, her face tear-streaked and determined. "Close your eyes." She obeys and he pulls her close again. "Don't look, alright, can you promise?"

"I promise, papa," she nods, eyes still closed. She buries her head into his shoulder and he finally takes his arm from beneath his coat, the sight nearly making him nauseous. He looks away, focusing on his daughter's curls as they tie leather straps around the stump to slow the bleeding.

At first he thought he was being strong for her when he choked back his cries of agony, but she clings to his good hand and whispers that she loves him into his chest and he realizes that she's the strong one. Just like her mum.

The bleeding stops eventually and the wound is cleaned and wrapped. He's feverish and woozy and there are times when the pain and the grief tempt him to despair, but he feels her hand in his and decides right then and there that he is a survivor. He refuses to leave her alone.

He heals, or part of him does. The brace and hook cover the missing piece of his body an icy chilliness covers the missing piece of his heart. Or tries. But for Charlotte he had no doubt he'd had spiraled into the abyss long ago. But the darkness never truly takes hold in his heart, thanks to his one little light, his beautiful daughter with her uncle's hair.

But Bae… Killian wants to keep Charlotte safe, keep her away from that monster. But Bae- He could not have loved that boy more if he were his own flesh and blood. Thinking of Bae trapped with the man who stole his mother right in front of his eyes makes him sick.

He seeks out the dark one, tracks the dark one's movements, follows him from port to port. Always careful to keep Charlotte out of sight but desperate for a chance to save his boy.

Killian caught up once, saw him through the crowd, tagging behind Rumplestiltskin with his eyes on the ground. The Dark One kept him physically safe, destroyed any that should even accidentally harm the boy in the most vicious of ways. But Killian cringed to see the bright eyed boy he loved so well with his eyes locked on the ground in front of him.

Killian tracked them through the crowds all day, waiting for his chance and it finally came when Bae waited outside as the Dark One finally went into a tavern to broker a deal. Killian slipped his hand over the boy's mouth and pulled him out of sight into an alley. Baelfire struggled viciously but Killian was too strong, when they'd put some distance between themselves and the busy street Killian finally relaxed.

"Be quiet, Bae, I mean you no harm," Baelfire stilled instantly at the familiar voice and Killian took his hand away from his mouth.

"Killian?" he whispered.

"Aye, lad," Bae spun around and launched himself at Killian who closed his arms around him tightly.

"You shouldn't be here," Bae mumbled into Killian's chest, "if he sees you-"

"He won't see me," Killian assures him. "The man inside, talking to the crocodile, It's Donovan. He'll keep him busy. Sadly they will be unable to come to terms in the end but he'll be busy for a while."

"Charlotte?"

"Misses her brother."

"I miss her too,' Bae said quietly.

"Say the word Bae, and I'll take you away, we'll run."

Bae shook his head, looking so much older than his 15 years in that moment. "He'll find us. If I break my deal, he'll break his. His magic…"

"I will find a way, Baelfire," Killian insisted. "We will be a family again. Do you believe me?"

Bae nodded. "There's a dagger," he said quietly. "It's the only weapon that can hurt him." He dug into his jacket and Killian saw a small secret pocket sewn into the lining. His mother's stitchwork. He pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it to Killian.

"How did you know to carry it today?" Killian asked, the paper disappearing into Killian's own jacket.

"I've carried it every day since I found out. I knew you'd find me eventually." Bae shrugged, "I have to get back. He has a way of knowing when someone isn't serious about a deal. Donovan may be the best poker player on the Jolly but it won't take long for him to be found out."

"We're not giving up on you Bae, we're tracking his movements," Killian said quickly.

Bae nodded, a small smile flickering onto his lips for a moment and he hugged Killian once more. "Love you," he murmured.

"I love you too, lad. Keep your chin up, we're always nearby."

"Tell Charlotte I love her too?"

"Of course."

Bae nodded and scampered back out towards the street. Killian leaned back against the wall. His nails dug into his palm. Every instinct told him to follow, to get him back, damn the consequences. But damn the consequences was an almost certain path to his own death and more importantly, Charlotte's.

He dug into his pocket and pulled out the scrap of paper. On it was drawn a dagger impaling a human heart, clearly drawn in Baelfire's own hand. He stared at the drawing for a few moments before putting it back in his pocket.

He had a stop to make on the way home.

When he returned to the Jolly Roger his forearm was carefully wrapped. Under the bandage Baelfire's drawing was faithfully inked into his skin with only one addition of his own. Her name, a permanent reminder of what he had lost, (and what he still had to lose.)

Killian seethed silently, pacing back and forth along the deck. He'd come topside to try to keep from waking Charlotte.

It had been months since they'd learned that Rumplestiltskin had let Baelfire fall into a portal. As much as he hated that Baelfire was now alone in some unknown world without magic, he'd realized this was perhaps the best chance he'd have. If he could get there before the crocodile… Rumplestiltskin could not hurt them in a world without magic. That was a place where Killian could truly protect them.

But crossing realms was not easy under the best of circumstances and- he paused his hand going to his blade as a bright light began to move towards the ship. By the time the light reached the deck of his ship his blade was leveled at a woman in blue who dusted herself off and looked up at him.

"I mean you no harm, Killian," she said, hands raised. "I'm here to help. I've heard your wish. And I mean to right a mistake that I made."

"Who are you?"

"You can call me blue," the woman said, inclining her head slightly when Killian sheathed his blade.

"What mistake?"

"I heard Baelfire's wish too. Gave him a magical object that would help him reach a world without magic. He meant to take his father-"

"The dark one is not his father," Killian hissed.

Blue nodded, her expression conciliatory. "He meant to take the dark one there, where he couldn't hurt anyone else. I tried to help him but in the end he passed through the portal alone.

"You created that portal?" Killian asked, voice tight with anger.

"Not precisely. But I have something which can create another. You can follow h-"

"And you're offering this now? It has been months."

"The magic I offer is not easy to find even for one such as me, you know this."

"And what price will you extract for this magic?" Killian asked suspiciously.

"The journey is its own price. I have only one magic bean, your path home will likely be most arduous. And the land Baelfire has been taken to is a dangerous place filled with dark magic. A place called Neverland."

Killian's blood ran cold, "Baelfire is in Neverland?" Killian hissed, voice tight with horror.

"You've been there?" Killian nodded tersely. "Then you know what dangers lie in that place."

"Then I must hurry."

The blue fairy reached out a small glowing bean in her hand. "Once the portal opens you need only think of the place you wish to find and you will be there. Good luck, Captain."

Then Blue was gone and Killian closed his hand around the bean.

Neverland. The one place he never wanted to set foot in again, was now the one place he desperately needed to go.

"To Neverland."

Off to Never-never-land!

Also tagging @mryddinwilt​ , @theonceoverthinker​ , @ouat-and-spn​ and @arandompudley​  because I’m pretty sure this is the millian headcanon that I was being asked about though admittedly I am not sure.