A/N: So, it's been a while... 1,387 days to be exact. Almost 4 years. I don't know what to say except I'm sorry. I never lost hope for this story, I really didn't. I'm so glad I could get this last chapter up for you. I'll put a longer author's note at the end if you're interested! I hope you enjoy this final chapter! :)

Warnings: non-graphic descriptions of child abuse

Emma Swan yawned, opening her eyes blearily. She felt as good as she could, considering everything going on. Henry's absence was still pulling relentlessly on her heartstrings, but for the first time in what felt like weeks, she was actually rested.

She ran her fingers through her long hair and took a deep breath. Thinking about Henry made her chest ache. He was her kid, her savior, and she loved him so much. She couldn't help but think about him all the time, worry about him, wonder what he was doing, or what was being done to him-

No. She couldn't think like that. Henry was fine. He had to be fine. Emma would see him again.

Slowly, she sat up and cracked her back. The ground was hard and uneven, and nearly impossible to sleep on. It was a miracle she'd gotten comfortable at all, especially now that her once-recurring nightmares were making a reappearance.

Shit. Speaking of which... Emma sneaked a peek over at Hook, who was still sleeping heavily as he always was early in the morning.

She sighed, remembering their conversation from the night before. She had bawled in his arms. She had told him her biggest secret, one she had never shared in her life. She trusted Captain Hook of all people. The fairy tale villain. A dashing scoundrel known (at least at home) for going after young kids. Clearly, that impression was wrong, but it was hard to shake the stories she'd grown up with.

Even more surprising was the fact that he had listened. He had listened to every word of what she said, and he had supported her. He had helped her through the emotions she was feeling, and afterwards, he didn't see her differently. She had looked into his eyes, and she hadn't seen pity. There was sadness, yes, but he didn't see her as a kicked puppy or a child. She had looked into his eyes and she saw sympathy and awe. He understood just how hard she'd worked to get through all of this, and it, shockingly, had showed in his gaze.

And she had cried. He had told her it was okay, it was going to be okay. He'd known the exact words she needed to hear, and she'd believed every syllable.

Sighing, Emma ran her fingers through her hair. Everything felt different now. It was like a huge weight had been lifted off her chest. Or, at least, it had been lessened considerably. She supposed it was because she shared her burden, for the first time. And instead of holding her down, as she thought it would, it was lifting her up. That connection made her feel strong. Everything felt new in her eyes. Especially Hook.

Noticing Snow's waking eyes, she tore off her left shoe, like she did every morning, and threw it at Killian's sleeping form.

"AAH!" Hook shot up into a sitting position, brandishing his hook in fear.

Emma couldn't help but break into a bright smile.

"Swan!" Killian cried playfully, tossing her footwear back to her. She caught it and pulled it back onto her foot.

Glancing over at him again, she studied his face, searching for a sign of something, a sign that last night hadn't been some sick dream. Killian looked back into her eyes and nodded slightly in reassurance.

Quickly, she looked away, suddenly unsure of whether she wanted to go over and talk to him or ignore him completely.

She hopped to her feet and took the map that Peter Pan had given to her out of her pocket.

"We need to go... that way," she called to the rest of the group, who were awakening with various degrees of energy.

"And you're sure that's the direction to get to the Lost Boys' camp?" Regina asked skeptically. She was always suspicious, especially when her son was on the line.

"That's what the map says," Emma replied, tone a little less cold than it usually would have been.

Regina pursed her lips and started off into the woods.

Immediately, Emma followed after her, denying herself another glance towards the pirate. She didn't think she could deal with last night's emotions as well as the ones crowding her brain right now, the ones about her Henry.

Throughout that day's trek, Emma avoided Killian Jones. He had made one attempt to converse with her, but she pulled him aside and said sharply, "Hook, I'm sorry, but I really need to focus my energy on Henry."

When he had looked hurt, she continued in a softer tone, "Look, I just really need my space right now, especially with this mission in my hands. We'll talk later, okay?"

Killian nodded, expression softening a little.. "Aye."

Satisfied that he understood, she continued, pulling out the map for what must have been the twentieth time that day. "What the hell?"

"What? What is it?" Snow said from behind her.

"The camp... it- it moved!" She panicked, clenching and unclenching her fists. If that son of a bitch had sent her on a wild goose chase, there was going to be hell to pay, whether Peter was a minor or not. Her son was missing. This was not even remotely alright.

"Let me see," Snow held out her hand for the map. Emma handed it over, hands shaking, trying to keep the glaze of red from overtaking her vision entirely. "Oh my god, Emma, you're right."

"It's on the other side of the goddamn island," Emma said, teeth clenched together.

"What's going on?" Regina's powerful voice sounded in Emma's years.

"The map. It changed."

"What?" Regina pulled it out of Snow's hands, inspecting it for herself. "What do we do now?"

David stopped and looked at the sky. "It's getting light out. We should probably set up camp and figure this out tomorrow." He ignored Regina's reluctance, then leaned close to his daughter. "We'll find him, Emma. Henry's okay. Just have hope."

Emma nodded slightly, blinking back tears of anger and despair. She was going to kill Peter Pan.

Long after everyone else was asleep, Emma was still wide awake, fuming. That son of a bitch had tricked her. For all she knew, she could have been going in the wrong direction the entire time.

Worry twisted her stomach. She clenched the hem of her shirt in her fist. Henry was under the control, the sick, twisted control of a teenager who was having some sort of sick, diabolical fun. Who knew what could have happened to him? Or what was happening? Henry could be dying and Emma couldn't do anything about it.

She sighed loudly and closed her eyes. She needed to sleep. She was no use to the rest of the company if she was stumbling through the forest, barely functional. Emma tried in vain to calm herself down.

"Swan?" Killian whispered. "Are you awake?"

At first, Emma considered staying silent. She wasn't sure she was in a mood to talk right now, and she had to admit she was exhausted.

Then, she remembered how rude she had been earlier, and the promise she'd made to talk later. Honestly, it might be good to speak with him. Maybe it would take her mind off of Henry, even for a brief moment.

"Yeah, I'm awake." She rolled over to face him, caught immediately in his piercing blue gaze. His face was drawn, jaw clenched. His eyes travelled over her face, eyebrows furrowed. It looked like he was seriously pondering something. Either that or he was sick.

"Hook, are you okay?" Emma asked carefully.

He paused for a second, as if he didn't quite register what she was saying. Distantly, he replied, "Aye, love, I'm alright. Just.. deciding."

So, not sick. That would be one too many punches in the gut.

Emma got up and walked over to him, sitting down once more in the dirt next to him.

"What is it?" she asked, both warily and intently. She had to admit, she was curious. Something was bothering him, and seeing him worried was more than a little unsettling to her.

"Well, I suppose..." he stopped again, and the sudden fear in his eyes threw Emma off guard. She wanted to reach out and take his hand, but wasn't sure if that was the right move. Killian continued, "Since you shared your secrets in the dark, I suppose it's my turn."

Emma blinked in surprise. "No, Killian, you don't have t-"

"I'll be quick, Swan. I know you're tired, as am I. It's been quite the day, to say the least. Besides, love, I want to." He made her decision for her, taking the initiative and grasping her hand.

Emma smiled lightly. Although she wasn't sure what she was about to hear, she felt like she needed to hear it. She needed someone to understand the emotional roller coaster her life had been, and she had a strange suspicion that Killian needed that, too.

He looked into her eyes. Emma didn't know what to make of it. Her natural implication was to close herself off, keep herself from everyone. So when she told a fraction of her tale, she turned her eyes away. If she wasn't looking at him, she could treat the situation like she was talking to herself, like nobody else was there.

But Killian naturally opened up to those he trusted (and there was no question now that Emma was one of those chosen few). When he told a story, he owned it. His tale belonged to him, and he treated it that way. It was honestly a little fascinating.

"When I was a child, around nine or so, my father, my brother Liam, and I were on a ship. We were traveling to who knows where, in the middle of a storm," Killian began, his eyes taking on a glazed quality. He was lost in memory, far away on the high seas.

"I awoke, frightened by the sounds of the thunder. My father came down, he told me to be brave, that everyone was braver than they thought they were." Killian paused for a second, a less wistful, colder expression taking over his features. Emma furrowed her brows but waited for him to continue, to explain his story. "I told him I wanted to be just like him," Killian said shortly. His tone was dark, his eyes churning with emotion.

Based on the rage in Killian's face, Emma had a vague idea of where this was going. What she couldn't understand was the guilt that was present in his eyes and the downturn of his mouth. Adjusting slightly to sit closer to him, she looked off into the distance, imagining his story as he told it. She could almost see the frightened young boy with the piercing blue eyes.

"I drifted off to sleep again. I always found the waves comforting, which I suppose makes sense." A smile flitted across his features; he glanced at Emma as she let a small grin creep across her own face. Of course, out of everything, the ocean sent him to sleep. The man was born to live on ships.

Killian's face fell into a hard mask, and he said, "When I woke up a few hours later, my father wasn't there. It seemed that he had disappeared without a trace, and that's what I thought. I thought he'd been taken." Hook shook his head.

After a moment of pause, Emma asked tentatively, "What happened to him?"

He looked back at her. "A man called Captain Silver came down the stairs and told me that my father sold Liam and I into his 'care.' Slavery was more like it."

Emma blinked in surprise. "What? Why?" she asked. For a man that, from the very little she knew about him, was at least cordial to his sons, selling his children seemed extremely out of character, not to mention completely barbaric.

Killian looked at her and knew exactly what she was thinking. Emma hated how much he could tell about her from just one glance, but in this moment, she couldn't find it in herself to mind at all. "I didn't believe it either. He wasn't a perfect father, Swan, but I did love him, and for a long time I believed he loved us." At Emma's understanding nod, Hook proceeded, "Apparently, Brennan Jones was a long-time fugitive, constantly on the run. It's why I was raised on the seas in the first place. In the night, he discovered that officers would be waiting at the docks. How they discovered he was coming, I'll never know. But Captain Silver tipped my father off, and he offered to sell us in exchange for a rowboat. The captain took the deal, and Liam and I were taken from our lives and from our ship. We watched it sail away, unmanned, as we joined Captain Silver and his crew."

Killian's brows were furrowed now, and the trauma, even after so many years, showed plainly on his face. Emma squeezed his hand and said, "Hook, that's awful. I'm so sorry."

Hook looked at her gratefully. "It's quite alright, Swan. It was a long time ago. I… I've found… closure now. In a sense."

Emma raised one eyebrow incredulously at his hesitance, his careful choice in wording.

Killian smiled softly. "A story for another time, love." Emma nodded. "Anyway, Captain Silver's care wasn't the best of places to be, to put it lightly. Granted, he taught us a lot, but…" Hook paused, trying to decide how to go on.

Emma was beginning to understand what was happening. Little aspects of Hook's personality were all falling into place. His sometimes insufferable bravado was just a mask to cover a surprising amount of pain and vulnerability. His sharp wit was formed from years where he was forced to be silent. Emma almost hated to admit that they were more similar than she'd originally thought. No wonder he called her an "open book." Looking at her was basically like looking in a mirror.

"He hurt us, Swan. Liam and I. If we didn't work fast enough, if we didn't do our job well enough… Well, I still have the scars, decades later," he finished, looking at her, judging her expression. He noted her stormy eyes under her guarded facade.

"I'm sorry, Killian," she said with gritted teeth.

"Don't be. I'm fine now, aren't I?" he griped, a flash of his usual manner shining through.

She inclined her head disapprovingly at him, calling him on his lie.

He nodded in acquiescence, letting the smile slide from his face. "He always threatened us, saying he'd kill our father… saying… he told my brother that he'd kill me in a second if he tried to escape. I followed Liam everywhere; I was his weak spot as he was mine. Liam and I were with him for five years. Five very long years." Killian stopped to clear his throat. "Until, on a stormy night, my brother woke me up after a particularly grueling day. He basically dragged me overboard with him. We were anchored about two miles off the shore of some small island. We swam for our lives. We almost didn't make it because the salt water stung our backs so much."

Emma leveled him with a sharp gaze then, one full of shock and mild confusion. Was he implying…

"He whipped us, love," he explained in a whisper. "Wasn't the first time, but everyone has a breaking point, and that was my brother's."

Emma was stunned into silence. How could she respond to being told that the man had been tortured for years as a kid? She didn't think there was a right thing to say, if there was anything at all. God, what kind of response could she give to that?

She sighed. It certainly made things more clear. Made him more clear. Everything was clicking into place. How he could read her like a book after one meeting, how his overzealous bravado clashed with sudden moments of sincere clarity, how… how had she been so oblivious? Their stories had a lot in common, many of the experience leaving similar marks on their souls. "Killian, I… I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything. It was a long time ago," he assured her. "I've long since recovered."

"Hook, you and I both know that's not true," she said wryly before she could bite it back. He'd been so kind to her; she didn't want to overstep or have him read her as insensitive.

To Emma's relief, he let out a huff of laughter and nodded. "You're right. But, I have… developed ways to cope. To get the nightmares to stop."

"What ways?" she asked. She'd come up with her own, but they usually involved alcohol or sleeping meds, neither of which she had, and neither of which were healthy.

Hook looked at her, the corner of his mouth pulling up a bit as he reveled in their newfound easy conversation. "You're already doing it, love. Talking it out with someone. Being vulnerable. I've found, if somebody else knows even a fraction of what's affecting you, the burden isn't all on your shoulders anymore. It keeps the dreams at bay for a while. Not forever, but enough time to get a reprieve."

Emma looked away thoughtfully. She did feel rested, better, all things considered. Even though she'd hated almost every second of spilling her secrets with a burning passion, it had made her feel better. And more importantly, it made her exhausted.

"Or, you get some closure," he said with a raised eyebrow and a hardened tone.

"Closure?" Emma asked skeptically.

"Find the bastard that hurt you and give him hell," he said, bringing a flask out of his coat and taking a swig. When he offered it to Emma, she took it gratefully and took a moment to relish the sharp taste of rum sliding over her tongue.

"Captain Silver?"

Jones shook his head and took his drink back from Emma. "My father," he replied regretfully. Everything in his face told her not to push the topic further.

"I don't think I could look Larry in the face again," she forced the words through her teeth.

Hook looked at her studiously for a moment before saying, "Then talking it is." He leaned towards her and continued seriously, "I'm always here for that, Emma."

And she believed him. She believed Captain Hook more than she'd believed any fleeting friend throughout her life. And it felt strange, to say the least. But it was more refreshing than she'd ever admit, to him or anyone else. Emma just hoped she wouldn't ruin it somehow. "Me too," she answered, hoping she sounded less apprehensive than she felt.

Hook smiled, a real, honest smile. "Bloody hell, Emma. We're quite a pair, aren't we?"

Emma tried and failed to keep from grinning back. She looked down into her lap. He was the last person she expected to be commiserating with in the middle of the night, not to mention the fact that they were talking about their worst memories, the bleakest parts of their past.

They both looked around the group for a moment, listening to everyone breathe deeply in their sleep, as the horrible reason they were here began to sink in again. There was no break for them, unfortunately. At least, not yet.

"Swan. I know today didn't work out as planned, but we're going to find your son. And then we're going to get the hell off this island, where we can both get some peace." He spoke with such determination that Emma couldn't help but believe him. Or at least, she felt a little lighter. Her heart felt slightly less broken. There was still time. Henry was still alive. And she'd see him again, she'd hug him again.

"Killian, thank you." She tried to push as much meaning into those few words as she could.

By the look in his blue eyes, he understood what she was getting at. "Of course, Emma. And thank you. You've not been in my life long, but it's already better."

Emma looked away from his intense gaze, face blushing red. She didn't know how to respond to that. Her brain scrambled to find words that just weren't there. But he had to know that she shared the thought. By the way his expression softened a little, she figured he'd understood some of her thoughts. If not all. That did seem to be how this usually went.

"Good night, Emma," he said softly.

"Good night, Hook… Killian," she responded. He laid down, and Emma left him to rest, finding a spot and readying herself for sleep.

With a smile and a sigh of relief, Captain Hook noted that the distance between the two of them had decreased by half. It was mere moments before his tired eyes closed and he fell asleep, his last sight being the calming cascade of Emma's long, blonde hair.

A/N: So, there it was! The final chapter! I truly hope you liked it.

I started this part over around four different times. I changed the plot twice (once because I forgot where I was going with it... I took a long break). I did end up somewhere that I liked. I think the writing style improved, which does make some sense. When I wrote chapter one, I was a sophomore in high school. Now I'm a sophomore in college! I apologize, though, if it felt choppy in some parts - I tried to smooth it out as much as I could, but it was difficult since my time spent writing it spanned literal years. Plus, I did stop watching the show after season 4 (I hope to catch up again someday!), so adding in the parts about Killian's father was difficult to say the least (I had to look some of it up; yikes). I hope it felt believable! In the end, I decided it'd be better to post a mostly finished product now than it would be to lose inspiration for a year and post it long after everyone forgot about it.

Speaking of which, to those reviewers that have commented throughout these years, I greatly appreciate you. Not a week went by where I didn't think about this story many times, and a lot of that is down to you, the readers that wanted more.

If you want to read anything else by me, feel free to check out my profile! Thank you for reading everyone; I hope it met (and maybe went beyond?) your expectations!