Last night he dreamt of sailing the Jolly Roger through a sea of quicksand, a harsh mistress indeed. As the bow sank into the dirt and the shouts of his men ricocheted in his mind, the scene froze. A frightening tableau was made as he wandered the deck, prodding a frozen crewman here and there with his hook, idly noting their expressions and the frozen look of terror in the face of certain doom.
“Your actions breed futility, brother,” a mild voice called from the wheel.
Turning on his booted heel, Killian faced the visage of his dead brother. Liam’s likeness was propped casually against the wheel, one arm draped over it while the other rested on the hilt of his sword.
Frowning, Killian said, “You’re supposed to be dead, Liam.”
Liam grinned and it brought to memory the days of their youth, of mock sword fighting and the roughhousing of boys. “I am; it’s quite pleasant.”
Nodding, Killian gave him a smirk and said, “It looks good on you.”
Tilting his head, Liam’s eyes roved over his younger brother and rested on the gleam of a hook where his left hand had once resided. Lifting a brow, he said casually, “Wish I could say the same for you. I see you’ve acquired some new jewelry.”
Killian’s right hand came up to caress his hook and he smiled dryly. “Aye,” he said with dark humor. “Lost it to a crocodile, but it is of no import. I will have his head yet.”
Liam shook his head and tutted softly. “Revenge. It’s as futile as this sand and no means to direct your life.”
Scoffing, Killian sneered, “What do you know – this is only a dream.”
“A dream, mayhap, but not one you would be having if a part of you didn’t understand that this course you’ve set yourself on is doomed. This quest for vengeance and thirst for blood will pull you under and drown you, fill your lungs with the harsh grains of sand and weigh you down, never to rise again.”
Anger burned through him and he whispered, his voice dark and full of fury, “It is an easy price to bear, for revenge.”
“And what of your honor. This is bad form, indeed, Killian. Only destruction lies ahead of you if you follow this course.”
“You know not of what you speak,” Killian said quietly. This argument was as futile as the image of his beloved ship in the sand. His brother, rest his soul, was gone. Milah, Baelfire… all of them deserted him in some fashion or another. What did he care if he should die in his quest to kill the Dark One – he was all alone anyway.
“You will see,” Liam’s words held the weight of cement boots, pulling Killian down as consciousness returned and reality set back in.
He played his part true. He hid under the hollowed out bodies and waited for them to find him, his twitching hand calling the poor fools to him like a white flag of surrender.
But Killian Jones, Captain Hook, surrendered to no one. He relished a challenge and desired to fight…
And sure enough, he found his obstacle in the form of a blonde haired woman determined to protect her party from the likes of him. She was too smart to fall for his honeyed lies and a small part of him that had curled up, withering and gasping, sighed in new life as he found out her name.
Emma. Emma Swan, she called herself.
Proud, stubborn… Loyal, loving.
Not to mention as attractive as they come.
Yes, she had good form, good form indeed.
Each day in her presence was like a jolt of electricity to that dead corner of his heart until it stuttered a hacking, wheezing breath and he felt the utter agony of living and caring once more.
Days had melted away and he remembered that dream of Liam, his ship sinking in the sand, fighting to stay afloat in an unnatural course. He reckoned he knew now what his brother, his own conscience, had been referencing about the danger in his unquenchable thirst for revenge.
Love and revenge. He’d always said he would fight to live or die for either…
This beguiling woman, his woman though she did not know it yet, pulled him up and out of the quicksand and gave new direction and purpose to his once stale life. Her presence lit the way of a forgotten path, one he had traversed before but had stumbled, losing his way.
But now he had her to lead him, to shine the light of his new course. His guiding star.
Second star to the right and straight on ’till morning…
He would follow her to the ends of the world and back, crossing oceans of time to be with her.
His Swan.
*Credit – Oceans of time reference is from Bram Stoker’s novel Dracula. I’ve tweaked it some here.
