"Mate…?"

There wasn't an answer, and that worried Hook more than anything else, so he didn't hesitate to rip open the prince's shirt—only to see the evidence of Dreamshade having amassed up the rib cage, closing in on the prince's heart—

not good.

He was just beginning to like the guy, the one who reminded him so much of Liam it was nearly heartbreaking—no, Killian couldn't lose another to the same tragedy, to the same fate that had taken his brother from him so very long ago—a wound that had never fully closed—a wound that he could feel reopening now, as he stared at those dark lines across the paler-than-normal skin.

He knew what he had to do, knew the only way to save the prince—to save someone he was coming to view as a (begrudging) friend—and he also knew the other was too stubborn to go along with it; Hook knew there was only one way for this to work, and it would have to go off without a hitch; he'd have to dig deep, to lie, to fib, to trick—

in order to save a friend's life.

The prince is still unconscious when he pulls the insignia from his coat pocket, stares at it for awhile—perhaps longer than he should, but he can't tear his eyes immediately away from that last reminder of his brother he truly has, the last reminder of the life he had before—everything—

and Killian drops it in the dirt at the prince's feet, just as he coughs and groans and stirs awake—to catch sight of the insignia himself—

to form his own plan.