-EPOV-

Emma watched Killian slip out the door with a small frown on her face. She hated feeling helpless. She wished she could chase down the hunter herself and find out what in the hell he was doing following her. Her injured leg was damn inconvenient.

Emma let Ruby take Killian's place under her arm as she shuffled her way to the front of the tavern and out into the afternoon sun. Emma could see storm clouds rolling in from the east.

"Should we wait here?" Ruby murmured.

Emma's frown deepened, and the she sighed. Her leg was aching, and she knew she should try to elevate it as much as possible in the first few days of healing.

"No," she said with a frustrated exhalation. "Give the hostess a coin and have her tell Killian to meet us back on the Beetle. Help me into the carriage first."

Emma let Ruby gently manhandle her into the carriage. It didn't go as smoothly as it would have with Killian, but Ruby simply wasn't as tall or strong. Once she was settled, Emma eased her leg up onto the seat across from her and leaned back, letting out a long slow breath as the throbbing in her ankle slowly faded. She watched the gathering clouds for a moment before remembering the letter Price had given her. She slid it out of her jacket and broke the seal. The information contained within the document was frustrating. It seemed sardonically apropos for a former sailor who parted on unpleasant terms with his captain to move to a landlocked kingdom. It would take at least a week to get to the man, and then she still had to convince him to turn on Blackbeard.

But she possessed more information than the previous day, so she would have to be satisfied that she had a lead to follow. She'd spent too many years chasing shadows.

Ruby returned to the carriage, but Emma waved her back when she tried to climb inside.

"Go find out what happened last night that Price was afraid to tell us," she told her first mate. "I'll be waiting at the Beetle."

Ruby nodded. She turned to the driver and paid him off, instructing him to take Emma back to the dock. The carriage began to move, and Emma watched the storm clouds as they moved closer to port. She hoped the storm would blow over and they'd be able to make way before dusk. If it hit, they'd need to stay moored until it passed—at least until dawn.

Arriving at the pier, Emma stumbled her way out of the carriage on her own, waving off the driver. Jefferson, who was sitting on deck, fiddling with some button-carving, jumped down to assist her.

"Captain?" Jefferson asked, letting the lone word form many questions.

"I want the ship stocked by dusk," Emma said, "I want to be out of port when this squall blows over, Jefferson."

The hatter frowned.

"It doesn't seem a squall, Captain," he said politely. "And I'd wager gold to thimbles it will hit us just after sundown."

Emma frowned and let Jefferson half-carry her onboard.

"I want the Beetle ready, regardless," Emma said. "And I hope you're wrong."

Jefferson called for Viktor, and the pair carefully lowered Emma into her cabin and got her situated on her bunk with her leg propped up. She groaned as the injured appendage was raised above her heart.

"Something for the pain, Captain?" Whale said, gently checking the swelling of her ankle. "I can nip into town for something stronger than rum and to see if anyone is selling ice."

"Rum will suffice," Emma said, "but ice would be appreciated."

Viktor nodded, providing Emma with a generous portion of liquor before he made his way from the cabin. It took Emma several swallows to drain the cup, and she knew the quick imbibing would cause an immediate response. Taking the empty glass from her, Jefferson sat down in the chair at Emma's desk.

"What do you want done with the lieutenant?" Jefferson asked in a casual tone as he stowed her cup.

"Send him down here when he arrives," Emma said, her voice tired.

"Where are we headed, Captain?" Jefferson asked.

"Back to the cape," she said with a sigh. She hadn't realized how much her ankle pained her until she was able to let herself relax. The large dose of rum was making everything fuzzy around the edges. She closed her eyes. "Then I will need to go overland."

"Hmm," Jefferson said, stroking his chin. "Perhaps I should let you rest, now?"

"Seems a good plan," Emma said, her words slurring a little as she lazily opened one eye to peer at her navigator.

"I'll set a course once the storm has passed," he said softly. "Rest now, Captain."

Emma dimly heard the squeak of the chair and then the scuffing of his footsteps as he left the cabin. Then she let sleep claim her.

.

-KPOV-

Killian stood in the alley for a few minutes after Humbert left. The hunter confounded him. Humbert had been so certain that Killian would acquiesce; it was disconcerting. Was there something the man knew that Killian didn't? The thought made Killian uneasy, but no answers would come from standing in alleys.

With a sigh, Killian began jogging back toward the tavern. He felt the wind start to pick up, tugging at his long coat. A storm was coming.

When he reached the Imp's Castle, he immediately noted that the carriage was gone. Darting inside, he confirmed with the hostess that Swan had returned to her ship and would await him there. Watching the sky, Killian knew the ship must remain in port through the night. Surely Emma wasn't foolish enough to risk trying to sail during the storm.

Killian headed back to the docks, walking at what he hoped would appear as a leisurely pace. He knew he had an image to project, but he had no desire to linger in the pirate town. He arrived at the Beetle as the first drops of rain began to fall. He saw most of the crew hastening to bring aboard crates and barrels while the rest worked to batten down hatches and remove the sails. Killian nodded at that; it was far wiser to take down the sails in a bad storm than to chance the wind unfurling them.

Killian leapt nimbly aboard the ship and began helping the deckhands with the rigging.

"Are the lines doubled?" he called to Ruby when she came up from the hold to direct the men.

"It's not my first dance at the ball, Lieutenant," the pretty brunette replied with an amused smirk. Her rain-streaked clothing clung to her skin in fascinating ways.

"A double-check is simply good form, madam," Killian replied with a grin.

Ruby arched an eyebrow at his use of the honorific.

"Shouldn't you be below, licking the captain's wounds?" she taunted as they got the last of the canvas down and secured.

"Perhaps we could focus on the ship?" Killian said, shaking his head but unable to suppress his grin, even with water dripping down his back beneath his coat.

"Lieutenant!" Viktor yelled from dock.

Killian turned to find the ship's medic directing one of the crew to take two crates to the hatch above the captain's quarters. Killian thought he looked strangely poetic standing in the rain with his long coat and stern expression.

"Aye?" Killian replied, jogging over to see what was going on.

"Do you know how to make a cold compress?" Viktor asked in a precise, clipped tone.

"Aye," Killian said, eyebrows raising. "You've found ice?"

"Ice and rum," the doctor said with a nod. "She wouldn't take anything stronger. Can you apply both? I'd rather stay in my own cabin for the night."

Killian realized that the hatch to the captain's cabin would need to be battened down as well. She would literally be locked in.

"I…" he said, giving himself a little shake. "Aye. I'll see it done."

"Good," Whale replied, clapping Killian on the shoulder. "Let's get you in, then."

Viktor snapped a few more orders, calling for some food to be brought from below. The cabin boy, Henry, scurried to comply with the request, returning quickly with a lumpy sack. Killian took the sack from the boy with a grin and an affectionate pat on the damp head. Ruby shouted for the lad, and he took off across the slippery deck at a full sprint, his boots squeaking on the boards. Killian and Viktor took up the two small crates Viktor had acquired in town and carefully carried them down the stairs into Emma's cabin. When Killian looked at the fair captain, she had pushed herself up onto her elbows and was watching with a somewhat dazed expression, as though she'd just awoken.

"There's a chisel and hammer for the ice," Viktor said as he lit a storm lantern and hung it from a sturdy hook, "I imagine you can figure out the rum?"

Both of their coats were dripping on the deck of the cabin, the droplets making a frantic tapping sound as they collided with the floorboards.

"I'll manage," Killian replied with a chuckle, wiping his rain-soaked hair back from his forehead.

Viktor nodded and climbed out of the cabin into the strengthening rain. Killian watched and then listened as the hatch slid into place and then nailed shut.

"What is going on?" Emma said in a drowsy voice.

"They are battening everything down for the storm," Killian said, stripping out of his drenched coat. His shirt, trousers, and boots were equally wet.

"It didn't blow over?" Emma said, clearly frustrated.

"Not at all," he replied as he pulled off his boots. The task required some hopping, since the slippery leather was difficult to maneuver. "I imagine we're in for a rocky evening."

"Hmm," Emma said noncommittally, falling back against her pillow.

Killian removed his water-laden vest, then hesitated. He wanted to take off his shirt (if not his breeches), as well, but he was very conscious of his location and situation. The shirt was soaked, and Killian was already starting to shiver, so he peeled it off, doing his best to wring it out without damaging the thin fabric. He considered donning it again, but the idea of wrestling himself into an icy, damp garment was entirely too unpleasant. Shirtless, Killian went to investigate the items he and Viktor had brought into the cabin. He could feel Emma's eyes on him Carefully, Killian pried the lids off the two crates. One was full of straw and bottles of liquor. The other held a block of ice wrapped in several layers of insulation, including hay, sawdust, and peat. A hammer and chisel, basin, and towels were in the satchel Viktor had left on the table.

"How are you feeling?" Killian asked Emma.

"Like my leg is broken," she huffed. Her eyes roved over his naked chest before returning to his face. "Give me some more rum?"

Killian uncorked one of the new bottles and poured a generous double. He helped Emma as she leaned forward and took the glass. The deck was swaying beneath his feet, and the amber liquid sloshed in the glass. Emma threw back the alcohol eagerly, Her fingers wrapped around his.

"Your hands are like ice," she murmured, her brow wrinkling as she looked at him again.

"I'm afraid they'll get colder before they get warm," he said with a small smile, gesturing toward the crate of ice with his head.

"Hmm," Emma said through pursed lips.

Killian swayed as the ship rocked, and the crate of rum slipped a few inches across the table.

"Pardon me," he said politely, inclining his head to Emma and withdrawing his hands from hers. He went back to the table and moved the crate of rum to the floor. He tucked it under Emma's desk, where it would be out of the way but still accessible. Surveying the room quickly, Killian snatched up his discarded belt and used that to strap the crate down. He similarly secured the crate of ice to Emma's footlocker, using a strap of leather he found hanging from one of the iron rings bolted to the walls. He hung the two sacks of supplies from another ring, tying their drawstrings together. He retrieved the chisel and hammer and went to work on the ice, filling Emma's washbasin with chunks of ice to chill her washwater. Then he dipped a rag in the icy bath, making a cold compress. He folded a few chips of ice into the fabric and then took it to Emma, who was still watching him with half-lidded eyes.

"Leave the rag and just wrap your hands around it," Emma slurred as Killian approached her leg.

He chuckled quietly.

"I'm serious," she mumbled, lifting her head for a moment. "And take off your pants. Climb up in here with me before you freeze to death."

Killian's eyebrows tried their best to hit his hairline.

"Captain Swan—" he started to protest.

"That's right," she said, letting her head drop as her words stumbled over her lips. "Captain's orders. Off with the pants. Get in my bed. And don't be such a pansy; I swear your maidenly honor will remain intact. I'm in no state to take advantage of you, no matter how much I may wish to."

Killian's mouth fell open. When he said nothing, Emma lifted her head again to look at him.

"Seven hells, you really are a virgin?" she asked, half accusing.

Killian closed his mouth, looking away.

"It doesn't matter," Emma said in a softer tone.

When he still made no reply, she spoke again in irritation. "Lieutenant Jones, take off your damn pants and get your shivering ass into this bed!"

Killian couldn't stop the smirk that quirked his lips at her inebriated ire. Setting the cold compress on the desk next to Emma's foot, Killian lowered the wick on the lantern and then clumsily wriggled his way out of his wet trousers. Shivering in his linen small cloths, Killian climbed over the ledge into the bed, carefully moving over Emma into the space between her and the wall. He leaned against the bulkhead near her legs, stretching his own out along her to end near her shoulder. He gratefully wrapped himself in Emma's generous blankets and then gingerly touched his fingers to Emma's injured ankle. The sound she made at his touch did more to warm him than blankets every could.

Killian carefully lifted Emma's leg and set her heel in his shoulder, wrapping his fingers around her ankle. She moaned again, and her whole body went rigid for a moment before relaxing with a few panted breaths.

"That's…" she breathed out. "Oh, that's good."

Killian swallowed the lump in his throat. He stroked her smooth skin with his icy fingers, gently soothing her swollen joint. Touching her quickly warmed his limbs, and with a reluctant sigh, he replaced his hands with the ice pack. Emma didn't even flinch, and when he looked up, KIllian found her fast asleep, her lips parted prettily. Her face was completely relaxed, and it made her look younger.

He watched her sleep until the sound of the rain and the motion of the ship called him to join her in slumber.