I wrote a thing…. It's obviously heavily influenced by Snow White and the Huntsman, it was kind of the point lol.

The alcohol left a bitter taste on his tongue, but it was easy to ignore. By now, Killian was far too drunk for it to matter. He was drinking alone in his cabin, sitting in his favorite little niche. He could feel the cool wood through the thin fabric of his shirt where his back was pressed against it; his boots resting on the opposite wall. Turning, Killian's eyes lingered on the only light in his cabin. It came from a solitary candle somewhere near the middle of the room.

That's where she was. Her yellow hair fanned out around her like a halo, strands hanging off the edge of his mattress.

The faint warm glow of the fire made it easy to forget how unnaturally pale she had become. With her eyes closed, one could almost assume that she was merely sleeping.

No… she was not dead, not yet. There was still a bit of life in her yet, but only just.

The curse running through her veins was likely to snuff out what little of her was left soon, much like the flame beside her. Such were the lives of many of the people Killian had known; bright and flickering for a moment and snuffed out much too quickly.

But, sometimes, if you stared long enough, their light could still linger behind your eyes…

He'd been with her when…. He could still remember the look in her eyes when she was hit with a fairy curse that had been meant for him. Her voice still rung in his ears; Killian's name falling from her lips as she collapsed against him.

The weight of her was still heavy in his arms. They ached from the hours it took him to carry her back to the Jolly Rodger. Hours spent whispering false promises that he was sure she never heard.

He told her that he would save her. Had she been awake she would've known that every word he spoke was a lie.

Killian Jones was no savior. He knew the second that the magic struck her that it was only a matter of time.

This was Neverland, his laugh as bitter as his rum as he took another drink,everything works differently here, even magic.

Her parents cried when they were told as much. The crocodile and the witch knew more about magic than he did, even in Neverland. Their words passed through him, unheard. He'd been too tired to argue, to insist that there must've been something they could do. Killian had done nothing but fight with and for them since this journey started and they were still no closer to finding Henry. His sorry excuse for a crew was still no closer to trusting him.

Except for her.

He'd been too tired to stop her father when the punches started.

Lost in thought, Killian let his tongue run over where his lip had split open. That had been the hit that landed him on the deck of his own ship.

Words had spilled from Charming's lips while he continued to attack the pirate. His blame was, of course, not unwarranted.

What happened had been Killian's fault, everything usually was; his father's abandonment, Milah's death, Baelfire…now this. He'd spent over three and a half centuries watching everything and everyone he cared for crumble to dust.

Why should she be any different?

After Snow and Regina wrestled Charming off of him, the man carried his daughter to Killian's bed, seeing as it was the only one on board. Killian suspected that the idea of some kind of comfort for her was a bit of a consolation; a poor one, but one none the less.

Threats passed through the Prince's lips, guarantees that the pirate would be dead should he even think about stepping foot in his own cabin while she was there….

At this moment, they were all off somewhere, plotting something. Whatever it was, they weren't too keen on letting him in on it. He didn't begrudge them their desire to think less of him than they already did; who was he to demand their respect after this? The Charmings would be back soon to keep vigil over their daughter through the night. It had taken much convincing from Regina and the crocodile to pull them away from her at all.

This was what made him feel as though he'd snuck into his own cabin. Killian told himself that he just needed to get something before he would be sent to sleep on the upper deck, but somehow he'd forgotten what it was that he wanted.

That's when he ended up opening a bottle of rum. That's when he started his own vigil.

With a sigh, Killian took his last drink before he set the now empty bottle on the floor, the soft clanking sound filling the silent room; his feet didn't take long to follow, heels clicking on the wood. He rested his elbows on his knees. Bending forward, he cradled his head in his hand, fingers threading in his dark hair as he waited for the room to stop spinning.

Pushing off his knees, the pirate stood tall with a sigh, his muscles protesting the motion. He had every intention of leaving, of going above and pretending that had never returned to his room. No one ever need know he had been there.

Not even she would know.

Despite all his thoughts to the contrary, something inside of Killian was making him stay. Some bizarre gravity was pulling him toward her, the light from the candle piercing through his muddied thoughts.

"Here you are princess," he said mockingly as he started towards her, wishing she would wake up and slap him for using her title. "A thousand apologies that you were unable to enjoy the comforts of my bed under better circumstances."

He let out a dark chuckle, imagining her fierce reply in his head. It'd probably read something like in your dreams Hook. If she only knew….

But still, it was only in his head. The idea that this one-sided conversation may be his last with her angered him more than anything had in a long time and he had no thoughts as to why.

He barely knew her.

Liar, a voice that sounded so much like hers whispered in his mind. He was at the bed by now and as he looked down at her face, Killian knew that voice was right. For some reason, he knew her better than it seemed he knew himself.

Perhaps it was the alcohol singing in his blood that made him do it, but he soon found himself covering her with a blanket that had been at the foot of his bed. It was utter nonsense….

A moment later he was pacing alongside the mattress. The wind he created caused the flame to flicker; casting dancing shadows across the wall.

His eyes scanned her whenever he passed. Sweat covered her brow and drenched her hair as she fought whatever it was that curse was doing to her.

"Stubborn as ever I see."

It wasn't long before his pacing stopped and he just looked at her. She was a fighter, he knew that, she had her boy to protect after all…but he also knew that by all rights, she should be dead by now.

"I am so sorry lass." Killian whispered so softly that he couldn't even be sure that he had spoken aloud. He knew the rum was talking for him now, but it made sure his words were honest. "Drunken fool of a pirate." He muttered, running his hand over his face as he turned to leave.

When he reached the door, fingers lingering on the handle, he found that he couldn't make himself turn it.

"She was my wife, you know. Milah." He let the words slip out, his forehead resting against the door. "Not by law, but in all the ways that mattered….I was an arrogant bastard, but for some reason that impossible woman chose me to take her away from a life she no longer wanted."

"And I loved her," Killian said, his voice raw and shaking with emotion as he turned back to the dying woman in his bed. Who better to share his soul with? "More than anything…. I was utterly hers and she mine."

Stepping back toward her, he continued, "She'd share her tales with the men and her nights with me. Milah was my happiness, my everything. Not one man dared to question her presence on this ship because they all knew full well that she could've strangled me in my sleep and I would've let her."

He was at her side now, but his voice was no less fierce, "We were coming back for Baelfire. She wanted us to be a real family, you see. It had been years and her pain became too much for her to bear. Were it possible, I would have borne it for her rather than see her suffer…but that was when he found us."

"I would've died for her…. Alas, that was not to be." Killian sighed, his hand once again trying to rub the exhaustion from his face, "He ripped her heart from her chest and he crushed into dust, right in front of me." He stood silent for a moment. He would never be able to forget the sight. He couldn't deny that some part of him held onto it. That part used the image to fuel his rage for over three hundred years. "When she was taken from me, a part of myself was taken with her.…She never got to see her son again."

The rum was starting to hit him hard now. He had three hundred years to build up a tolerance, but that would never be able to halt the effect of the amount he drank. "I became Hook. A tool of my own vengeance and a man I never wanted to be…."

"You remind me of her." Killian's words left his lips and he hadn't even realized how true they were until he said them. As he stared down at her, he could see the candlelight glittering on her brow. Instinctively, he reached for the scarf that had always been around his neck, but it was not there.

He'd already given it to her. A piece of fabric was a mere trinket when compared to a ship, but they were both parts of himself that he had freely given to the woman before him.

"You are fierce and beautiful, like she was…but you are so much stronger Swan." Without really thinking about it, Killian took a seat near her. "You'd tear the world apart before you gave your lad up for anything…even if it destroyed you."

Guilt swelled in his chest and soon he felt as though he'd never be able to breathe again. He was the cause of her death, her destruction. Why? Why would she risk it all for him when Henry was still out there?

"I will find your son." He said with a strength and surety that surprised him. He hadn't noticed that she had stilled while he spoke. Moving closer, he continued, "I swear it. I will burn Neverland to ash if I have to, but I will return Henry to his family."

His eyes roamed her face; it was clear now that all trace of life had left her. Killian let out a shaky breath before he leaned in and sealed his promise with a gentle kiss.

"I will find him Emma." He whispered against Emma Swan's lips, before he blew out the candle beside her.

A moment later, Killian Jones left his cabin, slamming the door shut behind him.

"Emma…"

A voice called quietly to her and a moment later magic flowed within her, pulling her back from the brink. With a painful gasp, her eyes snapped open, the candle beside her flickering to life, its light burning brightly in the darkness.

Emma's fingers went slowly to her lips….