Bang!

A single board smacked against the window frames, making the two witches at the table whip their heads around in shock.

Bang!

Bang! Bang!

One by one, planks of wood slammed against all possible windows and doors of the castle. Uma and Mal jumped out of their chairs and ran around the table. Mal stumbled, the shaking house throwing her off her balance, and fell against Uma. She braced herself on the sea witch, and Uma caught Mal as soon as she could. However, Uma's mind was spiraling. Her heart, racing. With every board that latched itself against the glass, the sunlight leaking inside began to ebb away.

Before long, they were in complete darkness.

Uma's vision became clouded, inhibiting her senses beyond the lack of light. She just barely heard someone's footsteps thundering down the stairs. Her protective nature activated when she remembered it was the youngest among them who was upstairs.

"Celia!" Uma shouted, unable to hide the fear in her voice.

"We're trapped!" yelped the young witch doctor from the other room. She ran into the kitchen to where Uma, Mal, and now Evie were standing. Celia immediately to Uma, and Uma threw her arms around her, holding on tight. The strength of her grip may have increased with her growing anxiety. Perhaps she was trying to ground herself to something that wasn't the all-consuming blackness around her.

"Are you guys okay?" Evie asked as soon as she and Doug reached the room. "What's going on?"

Uma couldn't answer. She felt as though her voice was stolen by her own necklace.

Mal was in front of them in a heartbeat, arms out in front of her. Uma's magic affinity could detect the energy coming off of her. "You've caused my friends pain and fear, we've had enough, now disappear!"

Uma's stomach lifted in the hope that the spell would work and let in the light again. However, her rising panic set in once more when nothing changed. Uma checked behind them, her breaths turning short and choppy, only to find that it was the same for the back windows.

"You guys, I'm sorry my spell's not working," Mal admitted helplessly, rubbing her hands in the false belief that it might awaken something. "Audrey's magic is getting stronger."

Throughout this tragic revelation, Uma felt like the walls were closing in on her. The slamming of old wood, the feeling of no escape, the blinding darkness, the numbing of her senses–it bore an eerie resemblance to that place.

"Now stay there and stay quiet! That'll teach ya to break one of my plates!"

A deafening slam always followed the yelling. Always. As a six-year-old, she couldn't decide what the worse part was. The shouting, the slamming of the door, or the void that was filled by nothing but the stench of rotting fish.

Well, there was nothing until he opened the door.

Then, there was light.

Light.

Uma looked down, brought back to reality by a humming warmth against her chest. She reached under her vest and pulled out her nautilus shell. It was glowing, reacting to Mal's magic, or so Uma thought. The sign was obvious. Uma knew what she needed to do.

Reaching for Mal's arm, Uma quickly exchanged a glance with her. Mal saw the shell, alight with magic, and got the message. They interlaced their fingers and held up their joined hands. A steady stream of magic buzzed where their skin touched. This was going to work.

"You've caused our friends pain and fear, we've had enough, now DISAPPEAR!"

There was a pause. Uma began to panic again, slowly descending into the darkness.

And then the planks dropped away. The sunlight quickly streamed into the room, and with it came a sense of relief that dismissed the tension in Uma's chest. She took a deep breath, sighing out any lingering pieces of her fractured memories.

"You did it," Evie noted, looking at both Uma and Mal with a hint of pride in her eye. "Together. This is what I've been talking about."

Uma smirked, silently agreeing with the young fashionista. She couldn't deny the facts. She and Mal had to work together to bring down the imprisonment spell, and she was beyond thankful. "I guess my shell likes you," Uma said in mild satire, earning a quick laugh from Mal.

Mal was powerful, it was true. However, it was obvious that her magic was handicapped at the moment. Uma was powerful, too, but like anyone who was human to their core, she had her weaknesses. If Uma's necklace hadn't dragged her out of the dark, she might not have been able to help Mal. She couldn't risk letting that happen, for both Mal's sake and her own, as well as everyone in their ragtag team.

Uma reached behind the shell hanging at her neck and pulled out Hades' ember. She gave the artifact a pondering glance before holding it out to Mal. "Why don't you hold onto that?"

Mal held out her hand, and Uma put the ember in her palm. They bumped their closed fists against each other, and Mal chuckled again. Uma's smirk slowly grew. It was comforting to know that Mal would be in a better place to protect them–especially the younger ones–if Uma was out of commission.

Celia suddenly ran to the window and peeked outside. She turned around, a sly grin that would make her father proud sliding onto her lips.

"Hey," she said suggestively to Mal. "It's your bae."

Uma had no idea what that word meant, but she judged by Mal's excited reaction that it was Ben who had arrived.

And if Ben's here, Uma thought as Mal's excitement rubbed off on her, turning her small grin into a full-blown smile. That means he's back, too.

Perfect timing. She needed him now more than ever.

After finding Beasty Boy and turning him back into just a boy–well, a bearded fanged boy–Harry found the rest of the outing to be incredibly boring. The trek back to Evie's castle was uneventful. The only thing that saved Harry's ears from the sickeningly sweet birdsong was the sound of Jay and Carlos filling Ben in on all that had happened since he went beast.

When they finally reached the hill that led to the castle, Harry couldn't thank whatever god was listening enough. They climbed to the top and walked through the gate that lead to the patio. The doors nearly flew open as Mal ran out to Ben. The royal couple immediately enveloped one another in a long embrace. Harry had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. They literally saw each other the day before. It wasn't like she disappeared without a word for a half a year or something.

Speaking of witch–yes, witch. Sea witch to be exact.

Gil was the first to greet her when she came out of the mahogany doors. She was all bright smiles and fist bumps with him, as she normally was. Harry smirked at the sight, his two best pals at their best could make even his wicked heart beat out of rhythm.

Until Uma turned her gaze from Gil to him, and Harry saw something he hadn't seen since their time on the Isle. Fear. But it wasn't just any type of fear. It was the kind that was born out of trauma. It wasn't something she could get over because the damage would never leave her. It would never leave him either. He remembered that day as if it were yesterday, the day he found his life's purpose…

It was the middle of the night, right around the time when Lady Tremaine's Curl Up and Dye hit its rush period. The young son of Captain Hook, barely six years old, found himself wandering the Wharf alone. Even at that age, people knew not to mess with him. The hook he carried was almost comically big in comparison to his scrawny arms, but that didn't make it any less pointy. His face was caked in ash and dirt, making his tan skin contrast his bright eyes even more. Where some might say they saw curiosity and a sense of adventure, others would say they saw the beginnings of insanity.

For example, when young Harry stumbled upon two saloon-style doors, he didn't shiver in his boots at the name of the shoppe's owner. In fact, a lopsided grin fixed itself onto his face.

That ol' octopus is probably sleepin', he thought mischievously. I'm sure Da will appreciate some of that high-quality rum she snags from the barges.

Maybe he'll let me back on the ship, came as an afterthought, but Harry shook away the disgusting feelings of yearning and sadness. He had a task at hand.

Having the stature of a fish barrel, Harry was easily able to duck under the locked doors and step into the infamous dining hall that was Ursula's Fish and Chips Shoppe. There wasn't a soul in sight. Harry could see the entrance to the kitchen and tiptoed across the room. The concrete beneath his feet was solid and quiet, making his heist almost stupidly easy.

Once he was in the kitchen, he rubbed his gloved hands in anticipation of the theft. The first order of business would be to find the booze. Harry set himself to work, opening the cabinets slowly to avoid any creaking that could wake the slumbering sea witch upstairs. Everything was quiet, dead as a waveless sea.

Until he heard crying.

At first, Harry dismissed it as the voices in his head–his dad claimed to hear them, so he figured he had them, too. However, the sound came a second and third time, and Harry recognized it as whimpering, not much different from the sounds his baby sister would make. Harry followed the noise all the way across the kitchen to a large closet door. He hesitated at the door. Whoever or whatever was behind that old wood was none of his business, but his curiosity got the better of him. He turned the doorknob and opened the door, immediately stunned by what he found.

It was a girl sitting in the closet. She looked around his age, and she wore an oversized teal shirt as though it were a dress. Her frizzy aqua-colored hair was pulled back into one poofy ponytail, but Harry still couldn't see her face. She had her knees tucked into her chest, and her face was hidden by her arms which hugged her legs close. It wasn't until Harry let out an audible gasp that the girl looked up.

She squinted her eyes, dark as the night but far more intriguing, against the light that flooded into the closet. She blinked up at him and sniffled. It was obvious from the swelling around her eyes that she had been crying, just as Harry heard. She did a once over of Harry, taking in this stranger until her gaze landed on the sharp weapon gripped in his hand. She narrowed her eyes at him, and Harry saw something that totally contrasted the rest of her appearance. He saw a fight. He knew that look very well, for he saw it anytime he saw a cracked piece of reflective glass.

Harry tried to summon as much malice as he could. He didn't have to be here. He could close the door and walk away. He could swing his hook and end this girl's misery altogether. However, he felt compelled by the fierceness of her stare to quickly drop his hook to the ground and kick it off to the side, proving to her that he was no threat.

He never dropped his hook until that moment.

"Why are you here?" asked the girl, her voice high and warbly but still determined in getting the information she wanted.

Harry slowly dropped to his knees, putting himself at the same level as her, and leaned his hands on his knees. Why was he there? He couldn't just say he was stealing rum. "Uh, I…" he stammered, still entranced by the energy she gave off. "I didn't have anywhere to go." He swallowed thickly, fighting back the feelings of dejection as he spoke the truth. "My dad kicked me out."

The girl's expression softened, brows turning inward at his confession. He cleared his throat and quickly deflected, "Why're ye in here?"

The girl sniffled again, raising an arm to haphazardly wipe the tears from her eyes. "My mom put me in here," she told him, attempting to offer a small smile that didn't reach the rest of her expression.

"I guess we have somethin' in common, then," Harry noted in an attempt to make that sorrow go away. "Our parents can be real villains sometimes."

The girl shrugged. "I can deal with my mother," she moped defensively, staring ahead of her instead of at the new boy. "Even when she yells or throws things, but…" She trailed off and looked into the back of the closet, where dead fish hung by their tails and racks of rusty knives hung by their handles. It looked like a murder house. Harry could hear the girl audibly gulp. "…I hate it in here."

She hugged her knees tighter against herself, her fingers gripping her shirt. Her voice began to shake. "It's so dark, and I never know when I'm getting out, and…and–"

Her words were cut off by another wave of sobs. Harry panicked, unsure of what to do and also worried that her crying might wake the slumbering Ursula–her mother, he presumed. He tried to think of what Harriet did whenever baby Calista Jane had a fit. There was a torn teddy bear that his older sister stole from Jafar's store. Harriet would always give it to the baby, and her cries would stop at once, almost like magic.

Harry looked around him for something–anything–he could use in place of an old stuffed animal. The only thing he saw was his hook. He scrambled over to where he kicked it and grabbed it by the curve before crawling back to the girl in the closet. He held out the hook handle to her, and for a moment, her weeping was put on pause out of confusion. She eyed his hook skeptically, unsure what to make of the implement. She ground her teeth together to keep her crying at bay and waited for him to explain.

"It's, uh," Harry forced out, trying to fabricate an explanation. "It's a special hook, see?" He pushed it toward her a little more, and with a slow and hesitant hand, she eventually took the cold handle into her grasp. Harry watched her inspect the hook and turn it over in her tiny hands before he went on. "If yer ever afraid of the dark, just hold onto it real tight, and it'll protect ye from anything."

She took the handle into both of her hands and squeezed, trying out the 'special hook' and its sensation in her grip. When she turned to Harry again, he was still holding out his hand.

"Let's get ye out of there," he suggested with a smirk, one without his signature off-kilter vibes. The girl eyed his hand with the same calculative glare that she gave his hook, but she still moved the hook into one hand and took his arm with the other. Harry stood up, pulling the girl up with him onto her unsteady bare feet. She kept her hold on his arm, still wary of the dreaded closet looming behind her. She glanced over her shoulder at the personal hell her mother made for her and then down at the hook in her hand.

"Are you seriously giving this to me?" she asked him, severely confused as to why someone on the Isle was being nice. That barely happened.

"Well, I wouldn't say I'm givin' it to ye," Harry clarified sheepishly, coughing into his fist. "But anytime ye need to use it, ye can just ask to borrow it."

The girl tilted her head in confusion. "And why are you helping me?"

Trust issues. Common on the Isle no matter how old you are. Harry scratched his cheek with one finger and admitted, "Maybe I was hoping we could be…friends?"

"Friends?"

"Yeah, why not?" Harry shrugged. "You don't wanna be in the dark, and I don't wanna be alone. I think we can really help each other."

Harry kept unwavering eye contact with her to show his sincerity. He didn't come into the shoppe expecting to make a friend, but he found himself waiting anxiously for her answer. After a painfully long pause, she let go of his arm and held out her hand for him to shake.

Harry smiled wide, taking her hand and shaking it up and down sporadically. The girl giggled at his eagerness, and it made his heart leap. He swore then and there that he would do anything to make sure she never cried again. Only laughter.

"I'm Harry, by the way," he introduced himself, nodding toward the hook that still hung from her hand. "Harry Hook."

Their hands stopped shaking but stayed together between them. The girl smiled, and this time, the warmth reached the rest of her face. "I'm Uma."

That was twelve years ago. Harry and Uma were practically inseparable since then, and he'd made good on his promise. He hadn't seen her that terrified in a very long time. Until now.

Most people would have missed it, but Harry knew her too well. When she crossed the patio to him, she gave him a soft grin that didn't quite reach her eyes. He smiled at her despite the unsettled feeling in his gut. For the moment, he'd act like nothing was wrong. Still, he wanted to do something.

Uma looped her pinkie around the curve of his hook. The small gesture did little to make Harry believe she was totally alright, so Harry reached out and gently pulled her into him. She went along with the hug as naturally as she normally would, but when Harry felt her hand practically slap against his shoulder and her fingers curl into his jacket, his suspicion was confirmed.

"Are you okay?" he whispered into her ear before pulling back to gauge her reaction. She nodded, but he didn't believe it for a second. Her deep, dark eyes gave him a totally different message.

I'm really not okay.

And later, when they were all filing into the house one after another, and Uma grabbed the front of his shirt to steer him towards an empty guest room, Harry knew that she needed him with her at that very moment.

Uma slowly closed the door, using the utmost caution to ensure no sound was made besides a soft click. Harry stood in the middle of the room and watched wordlessly as she moved from standing at the door to sitting on the edge of the bed. She picked at the edges of her glove, keeping her eyes down. Harry knew he was there for something, and after a long, silent minute, he thought it best to prompt her on it.

"What's really botherin' ye, Captain?" he spoke softly and formally, his rough brogue scraping against the heavy silence. Uma stopped fiddling with her glove and placed her hands in her lap. She stared down at the floor, away from Harry. He slowly kneeled down beside the bed and tried a more personal approach. "Uma."

There was a beat of silence, and then, "Audrey cast a spell." Uma's voice was low and monotonous. Harry strained his ears for any indication of how she was feeling.

"These big planks of wood," she went on, making small motions with her hands in her lap. "Slammed against the doors and windows."

Slamming.

"We were trapped." Her voice caught a bit at the end. Harry furrowed his brow in concern, checking off another item from his mental list.

Confinement.

Uma bit her lip and shook her head. Her hands began to tremble in her lap. Harry held his free hand right above hers, letting her anchor herself on him as she needed to. Both hands latched onto his and gripped tightly. Harry gave her hands a much gentler squeeze in encouragement, silently telling her to take her time and that he's there for as long as she needs. When she finally looked at him, Harry's chest ached to see her eyes glassy with tears threatening to spill over.

"It was so dark, Harry," she finally said, her voice just barely above a whisper. A single tear finally rolled down her cheek.

Darkness.

"Hey," Harry consoled, keeping his voice as quiet as he could. He acted quickly, bringing his hook hand to where she was grabbing him. Without taking his eyes off of hers, he carefully guided the hook into her quivering hands. "Remember what I told ye way back, eh?"

She nodded her head and took in a shaky breath, blinking away the tears. Harry chanced a reassuring smile, one so soft and genuine that only Uma ever saw. Then, he reached up and gently wiped the tear streaks from under her eyes.

"Whenever yer in the dark," Harry repeated what he said when he was a wee lad meeting his best friend for the first time. He laid his hands over hers to emphasize his words. "Just hold onto the hook as tight as ye can, and it'll protect ye from anythin'."

Uma nodded again, turning her gaze on the hook and squeezing the warm metal in her grip. While she did, she was comforted more by the rough hands deftly laid over hers. When it came down to it, the dark had already passed, and this metal instrument did nothing to save her from the twisted memories brought on by Audrey's magic. Her necklace had brought back the light, fueled not by Mal's magic but by other memory fragments, fragments which included…

She glanced at Harry out of the corner of her vision. He was focused on her, never once looking away in case she started to crash again. For a split second, she saw the boy who found her in the closet all those years ago. Back then, just like now, he had told her to hold onto the hook.

But she was holding the wrong Hook.

Before Harry could even register what was happening, Uma let go of his hook and threw herself at him. He managed to keep her steady as she wrapped her arms around his neck and dropped to her knees. He eventually found his sense and moved his arms securely around her waist. She nuzzled her face into his neck, sniffling but resisting the urge to cry. Harry began to rub slow circles into her back and leaned his head against hers. Anything to remind her that he was there for her in every way.

"Thanks, Harry," she mumbled against his neck. "For bringing me into the light."

Harry let out a slight chuckle, adjusting his arms so he could hold her even tighter against him.

"What are friends for?"

Don't ask me where this idea came from, I think it's a symptom of watching D3 too many times. I hope you enjoyed this little one-shot! Lemme know what you thought, and have a great day! -JoJo, who is posting their first fanfic from COLLEGE!