Liam Jones was gone. His captain. His beloved brother.

It had been a week since his death, and Killian Jones was now the captain of the newly named Jolly Roger.

He had led his crew into piracy and they had gladly followed him. Killian had abandoned his naval garb in favor of a wardrobe comprised almost exclusively of black leather. He lined his eyes with kohl to give himself an edge of menace when at port. They sailed beneath the black flag and had already taken their first ship. Killian glanced at the small chest that was his prize. He still needed to divide the contents up amongst himself and his crew.

However, it was the end of the day and everyone but the night watch was asleep, and it was at night when Killian couldn't escape the nightmares, flashes of Liam dying over and over again, of his father leaving him, of never knowing his mother because she died in childbirth. Everyone he loved had left him.

He was alone save for his code and his crew.

Normally, Killian wouldn't indulge, but he took a flask of rum in his hand and drained the contents. Over the past week, rum had become his constant bedfellow, in hopes that if he drank himself into a stupor it would chase away the nightmares. It never really worked, but it was the best medicine he had.

-/-

Killian awoke to the wild shouts of his crew. One of the men was pounding in his door. "Captain, there's a storm coming."

"Liam," said Killian aloud, before he remembered that he was the captain and he was responsible for steering his crew out of harms way.

The knowledge and responsibility invigorated him and he sprang to his feet, grabbed his leather duster and left his quarters.

Rain was coming down in thick sheets, the ocean was dark and angry, tossing the Jolly Roger to and fro like she was nothing but a toy.

Killian took a deep breath to steady himself before making his way to the helm. He started barking orders, raising his voice who he could be heard over the wind. It was his first crisis as a sea captain, and he knew he couldn't let his crew down. He couldn't lose anyone else.

"Mr. Smee," he roared, "take hold of the wheel."

His stout, red capped first mate rushed to obey his command.

Killian made his way to the port side of the ship, gazing out over the angry ocean, only to see the beginnings of a maelstrom. "Maelstrom," he shouted, "We'll have to steer her away before the ship is smashed to bits. Tie everything down and get to your stations."

It was going to take every single crewman to maneuver the ship out of this deadly situation. Killian climbed onto the edge of the ship, holding tightly to the rigging, so he could observe the progress.

The ship rocked violently, but Killian held tightly and continued to shout out glanced over his shoulder, his eyes widening. The ship was right beside a full fledged maelstrom, and Killian could feel his brother's beloved vessel, the closest thing he had to a home, getting pulled into the current. "Go below, men!" Killian commanded. Perhaps they would get lucky, and the ship wouldn't be destroyed. The lives of his men would be spared.

"Captain, are you coming," yelled Smee as he ran from the helm.

"No," said Killian, as he jumped down to replace him. "You're in charge below. All of you are to stay below until the storm passes. Do not worry about me. Now go."

Smee hesitated before saluting. "Best of luck, Captain Jones."

A moment later, his crew was safely below. Killian turned the wheel tithe all his strength. "Come on, old girl," he whispered against the wood.

The ship rocked violently once more, and Killian lost his footing. He slammed into the rail of the ship. He struggled to get to his feet, but the ship was going down into the storm. Everything was slick from the rain, and there was no chance for a proper grip.

The ship pitched forward, and Killian was flung over the side. He felt the pain of a thousand pricking needles as he landed in the frigid waters, and then the current was pulling him in. Hh took one last gulp of air before he was pulled under. Then he was falling, and he could only guess he was falling into the eye of the maelstrom.

I'm sorry brother, I failed you.

Then his world went black.

-/-

Killian's eyes opened slowly. His back was flat against a solid surface, and a harsh light was shining above his head. Killian glanced around the room. Everything was white and silver and sterile. Was he in Davy Jones' Locker? Surely he'd died in that storm.

A shadow then obscured the light, and he was looking into the face of a man who was several years older than himself. "Ah, good, you're awake. We thought you weren't going to make it for a while."

"Where am I?" asked Killian, barely able to get the words out.

"You're in Boston Massachusetts. The year is 2001. Do you remember your name?"

"Killian," he rasped. "Killian Jones."

"Well, Mr. Jones, don't worry. We'll find out where you belong."

Killian sincerely doubted it, for deep down, he was certain that he was no longer in his own world. Or time.

He was nothing more than a lost boy.

-/-

Phoenix, Arizona- 2001.

"Well, Miss Swan," said the prison warden, "You're free to go."

Emma Swan took the keys that the warden offered her. "Thanks," she said, before turning on her heel and leaving.

The yellow bug was waiting outside for her, and Emma still had no idea how it had gotten there. Her heart clenched painfully at the thought of Neal's betrayal.

She opened the door and tossed her bag on the passenger's seat. She glanced into the back seat, half expecting Neal to be waiting for her there, just like the day the met. But it was empty, just like the space he'd created in her heart. Of course he hadn't shown up. He was nothing but a coward who had abandoned her.

Emma angrily swiped away a few tears that had started to fall. She yanked open the glove compartment and took out a map, unfolding it carefully. Tallahassee, Florida was circled in red ink.

She'd go there and hunt Neal down and at least then she'd get the answers she deserved. Emma gripped her swan necklace before turning the keys. She'd never trust anyone with her heart ever again. The engine roared to life, and she was on her way.