A short drabble based on the sneak peak for "Lost Girl." Written from Killian's point of view.

Can You Hear Them?

Hook shifted on the ground, the woolen blanket pulled up around his shoulders as he tried to ignore them. It was the crying, the sorrow of the lost children on the island. He'd been listening for what seemed like days, tossing and turning in vain attempt to get some sleep. He would be needing his strength to help find the boy.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught movement and stilled. The figure got up, unsheathing a sword. Emma. He watched quietly as she spun around, as though looking for something. She stepped towards the direction of her parents.

"Guys!" She whispered harshly. "Guys wake up!"

They did not respond, though Snow White snuggled closer into her prince's arms, his muscles flexing as he unconsciously held her tighter. Hook looked back to where Emma had been standing, but she was gone. Quickly and quietly, he shot to his feet, slinking along the edges of the jungle to where her things lay. There wasn't much, just a dusty old bit of tent to keep her from the dirt and a blanket much like his to cover her. Her pack lay untouched at one end, serving as a makeshift pillow.

The cries of the children grew louder and Hook cringed. He hated the sound, could hardly stomach it. It was one of the things he'd tried to escape from in this land. It was a reminder, after all, of his own history, his own abandonment.

"Where's Henry."

Hook's head snapped in the direction her voice had come from, a little ways into the trees. Drawing his own sword he crept closer, taking care to keep silent. A few feet away, through the thick viridian leaves, he could make out her form, blade holding her target in place against a tree.

"You've got fire! I like fire." And his blood froze in his veins. That was the voice of Pan; he'd know it anywhere.

Emma seemed unafraid though since she merely pushed Pan further against the rough bark. Her voice dropped dangerously and for that moment Hook wasn't sure if he was more concerned for her safety, or her actions.

"Where's my son?"

"He's alive, if that's what you're worried about."

"Where the hell'd you take him?"

"He's a very special boy, Emma."

"I know. That doesn't answer my question. What do you want with him?"

He could picture her face, eyes sharp and dangerous as they looked into Pan's, unaware of the peril she herself was in. He wanted to rush out and stab the heathen, but he knew the boy was faster and they'd both be dead before they hit the ground. Hook ground his teeth, jaw clenching and hand flexing around the hilt of his sword.

"I came here to see who I was up against," replied Pan, "the Savior. Gotta say, I'm not disappointed."

He knew the smug grin that would be playing on the boy's lips, knew the glee he found in a worthy opponent. And he knew, from the tone of his voice, that he was not after Henry. It was Emma. He wanted Emma.

"What do you say now? Gonna tell me how I'm not gonna see Henry again?" She sounded almost bored with him, as though she'd heard the threat before and had proven it wrong.

"No. I'm going to help you find him," he seemed almost offended at the statement. "I'll give you a map."

Hook saw Emma step away after a moment, giving Pan room to move again. He knew these tricks, knew Pan would prefer Emma's fight before her failure. He wouldn't hurt her, not now. So Hook walked away, back to their clearing. For a moment he'd forgotten about the cries of the lost children, but with every step he took away from her, the louder they became again. He wondered, briefly, if she had heard them too, if that was what had woken her. A lost girl. Quite a pair they'd make, the abandoned ones. He smiled humorlessly, casting an unfriendly look towards her sleeping parents. He'd never understand it.

Then again, they couldn't hear the cries.