#whookweek

"What's going on here?"

Hook turns slowly to the source of the voice. An old man roughly his age appears behind the waiter holding a bat. Hook snorts. "Swing that thing around, 'tis no match for me hook," he slurs as he raises said appendage and smiles.

"You've had enough, mate. Come on." The old man approaches him with his bat lowered. "You'd better leave before things get tense."

There's something about his voice, his hair, his raised eyebrow, that tickles something in Hook, something he can't quite place. He raises an eyebrow himself and looks him up and down. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

The man sighs and shrugs. "I've had this tavern for years. You probably visited at some point. Now come on." He steps closer and pats him on the shoulder. "Let's go."

"Let me, father," the young man offers.

"It's alright Liam, I can handle him."

Liam?

Hook freezes. He looks at the young man, then at the older man next to him. Looking at him better, he realizes. Sure, he grew old and grey - just like him - and his eyes may look a little glazed now too, but he'd never forget that face.

Brennan Jones.

His father.

Hook stares at him with his mouth open. The old man - Brennan - turns back to him and pats him on the shoulder again, signaling him to leave.

"You bastard," Hook whispers. He raises his dagger and goes to stab him, but the young man grabs his wrist before he can do any damage. Regardless, Hook keeps pushing, adamant to drive the dagger through his heart.

"Stop!" he hears someone say, but ignores him.

"You bastard!" Hook says again. "How dare you!" He manages to break free of the man's hold of his arm, only to feel two big, strong hands grab him from behind and push him against the table. Hook groans as he struggles to get free, to no avail, losing his grip on the dagger. "Let me go!" he says.

"Thank you, Tom," Brennan says and turns to look at him. Hook grunts again, still trying to break free, but his aged body and his drunken state are only making things more difficult. "Let's get him out of here."

"Ah, so that's how it is. First you abandon me on the high seas, now you'll abandon me on the side of the road."

Brennan freezes, and the young man - bloody hell, his name's Liam - turns to look at him.

"Come on, father, he's out of his mind," Liam says.

Brennan leans towards the table and brushes Hook's hair from his face. Hook sees his eyes travel up and down his face, before he mutters, "Killian?"

"Glad to see you remember my name."

Brennan blinks rapidly and shakes his head. "Killian? Ho-how? Wh-how...?"

"Father, what's going on?" Liam says.

"Oh, he doesn't know," Hook says, turning to look at him, then back at Brennan. "Can't say I'm surprised."

"Who are you? How do you know my father?"

He turns back to the young man - his younger brother. "Believe it or not, he's my father too." He laughs, not bothering to see the reaction on the young man's face. "What a family reunion, innit?" The man behind him lets go, and Hook straightens his back. He looks around the tavern - everyone's looking at them. "Indeed! Brennan Jones' former son is back, and guess what, he's ol' Captain Hook now!"

"Son..." Brennan says.

"Don't you bloody call me that," Hook says, turning around and extending his hand, having forgotten he doesn't have that dagger anymore.

"Let's take it somewhere else."

"No, we-" His words are cut off by his stomach heaving suddenly. He leans forward and retches on the floor, supporting himself on the table. He hears disgusted sounds from the patrons, but he can't bring himself to care.

"Tom, can you give me a hand?" Brennan says, and then Hook feels the same strong arms slip under his armpits and carry him somewhere, away from the murmurs in the tavern. He's set down, he supposes on the floor, and then a door closes and someone kneels down next to him.

"Killian..."

He opens his eyes. "Don't say anything. I don't want to hear anything from you."

"Take this," Liam says and offers him a mug.

Smiling, Hook brings it to his lips and starts downing its contents, until he realizes it's just plain water. "Ugh," he mutters.

"You're fooling yourself if you think I'm letting you get any drunker than that."

"Would you look at that?" Hook says, looking up at his brother. "So considerate! You raised him well." He turns towards Brennan. "Unlike others you sold into servitude."

"What?"

"Liam, give us a moment."

"Father, what-"

"Liam, please! I'll explain everything later."

Hook looks up at Liam's distraught face. He both hates him for getting everything he didn't and he wants to protect him from whatever betrayal this monster may have up his sleeve for yet another son of his. Liam just shakes his head and leaves.

Brennan turns his attention back to him, eyes once again going all over him. "Killian... what happened to you?"

Hook snorts. "It's easier to say what didn't happen to me."

"How did you survive this long?"

"Neverland. I was biding my time until I could find a way to kill an immortal. Where did you run off to after trading us for a bloody rowboat?"

"You were here, all along. And your brother?"

Hook narrows his eyes at him, noting that he hasn't answered. "Liam," he says, as if reminding him of his first son's name, "... was not so fortunate. How are you still alive?"

Brennan sighs. "I was caught. As soon as I reached port, I was arrested, and put under a sleeping curse."

It takes Hook a few moments to process what he said. He was caught... arrested... "You were caught?"

"Aye, not long after I left."

"You traded us," Hook says, pointing at his chest, "for a bloody rowboat, to escape, and you tell me now that it didn't work? That Liam and I grew up in servitude for nothing?"

Brennan closes his eyes and lowers his head. "It was wrong, and cowardly of me. I know that-"

"The hell it was!" Hook yells at the top of his lungs, and he can hear the noises from behind the door lower. "How could you face yourself?! How could you raise another child after what you did?!"

"I fell in love. The woman, who... who woke me up from my curse, we got married, and we had Liam."

"Liam," Hook says, scoffing. "Named after the son you abandoned. Was he that easy to replace?"

"I wasn't trying to replace him. I was trying to honour him. Him and you both. To remind myself to never make that mistake again." Brennan reaches with his hand and rests it on Hook's. Hook snatches it away in disgust. "I saw the error of my ways. I knew that I couldn't really go back and fix what I did. So when Liam came into my life... I found a way to redeem myself."

Hook looks up at him. He'd be lying if he said that didn't resonate with him... how could he berate him, after what he'd done to Baelfire? After how he'd found a reason to live in Alice?

"I'm truly sorry, Killian."

Hook squeezes his eyes shut, the pain almost physical. How long? How many times had he wished his father would come back and apologize? How many cold, lonely nights had he held on to that stupid, childish wish?

It's now he realizes how little it matters. How a few words can't and won't heal the centuries-old wounds. The dam breaks and his head drops, tears falling from his eyes as his chest starts shaking from the sobs.

"I'm so sorry," Brennan says and comes closer, wrapping his arms around Hook's shoulders. And damn him, Hook can't stop him. He hates him, he hates him so much, but he's also missed... this. Allowing someone to care for him. And that hole in his chest keeps asking for more, so Hook leans his head on that bastard's shoulder and cries his heart out. He hates how he remembers his scent. He hates how Brennan pulls him close and rubs softly at his back. He hates how he doesn't want to pull away.

~

He must've passed out next to him, he thinks. He wakes up on a big bench in the empty tavern, a blanket covering him and a soft pillow under his head. He grunts, feeling as if his head is being stabbed from all places. He opens his eyes to see Brennan walk towards him, a bowl in his hands.

"Thought I could bring you something to eat. We only had stew with lettuce but I left only the meat. I remember you didn't like lettuce in your food."

His proud smile breaks Hook's heart. "That was Liam. I loved lettuce in my stew."

"Oh, sorry. I must have gotten confused," he sits down on the opposite bench, setting the bowl on the table.

Hook sits up, his head spinning. "Well, what can you do? Now that you had another son, things can get confusing," he says, irony dripping with every word.

Brennan at least has the decency to show shame. "Killian... I meant what I said earlier. I'm truly sorry, if I could go back-"

Hook picks up the spoon, and cuts him off. "Good for you. Are you feeling better now? Do you feel you've repented?"

Bloody hypocrite, he tells himself. It's not like you'd do anything if Baelfire was still alive.

"No," Brennan says, surprising him. "I'll never be able to make it up to you. But with Liam..." His lips twitch. "I was given a second chance, and I didn't intend to throw it away."

Well, doesn't that sound familiar. "Where is his mother?"

Brennan looks down. "It's been... years. Liam barely remembers her anymore... She got sick." He shakes his head. "She never recovered."

Oh, bloody hell. How similar did their stories have to be?

I want to be just like you.

Hook stops eating and rests his forehead on his hand, once again feeling like vomiting and crying.

"Are you alright?"

"No," he says sullenly. "How can I ever be alright?"

"Stay, Killian. Stay here."

His suggestion catches him by surprise and he looks up at him. "And do what? Call for you to light the lamp at night?" Hook shakes his head. "It's not... you can't just go back. The damage is done."

"You're alone, aren't you?"

He almost says no. He wants to throw to this bastard's face that despite what he did to him, Hook still knew better... didn't he?

"What's it to you?"

"Gods, Killian, you're my son. I made a huge mistake, but I want to make up for it. I want you to not be alone anymore."

"How would you know to help me? You have no idea what I went through."

"I can try and-"

"Help yourself." He pushes the bowl away from him, splattering broth and small pieces of meat on the table and sits up abruptly, ignoring how his head is spinning.

"Killian..."

He stops, however, and turns towards him. "Stop. Just accept it, old man. You can't fix what you broke." There's a part of him that hates himself for what he's saying. A part that knows that Hook deserves to hear those words too, even if he hates them. "You have your chance for redemption." He swallows hard, feeling tears prickle his eyes. "Don't screw this one up."

Brennan looks at him, and he's sure he sees tears in his eyes too.

Well, serves him right. Hook's too far gone for anyone's help now. And... Liam... is all grown-up, and blissfully ignorant of his father's sins, but at least... Well, he does have his father, doesn't he? Why would he need his half-brother, whom he barely knows, worry for him?

Brennan doesn't even react when he sees him grab a bottle of booze from a nearby table. Hook doesn't know what exactly is inside, and he doesn't care. With one last look at his father, clean and put together, close to his child, a stark contrast to him, he turns away and leaves.

He's already downed a few good gulps before he's even turned at the corner. Oh, sweet burn. Really, how could a man who sells this stuff for a living help him?!

Some more gulps, and his vision has blurred, and he's not sure whether the bottle is now half-empty or half-full, but perhaps if he looks at the bottle that way, wait wasn't there another tavern-

"Attention, villagers!"  

Half-empty, half-full, weigh, hey, roll and go...

"Princess Emma has been kidnapped! King Henry asks for your help!"

Our boots and our clothes, boys, are all in the pawn...

"Any information about her whereabouts will be greatly rewarded!"

Rewarded? Wait, what?

Still humming the song under his breath, Hook leans towards the mounted men. They're too far away, but princess... What's-her-name... kidnapped... reward...

A reward. For the bloody princess.

Maybe the royal family has a means to finding a cure for a poisoned heart? He doesn’t have the mental strength to appreciate the irony of begging a King for a cure.

Well, he's good at hiding valuable objects. A kidnapper would think the same way, wouldn't they? He knows where to look.

He stands up, nearly vomits again from how his head spins, then rights himself and marches on.