Finding Swan

1. A sail and a sale.

The days dragged around him much like they had in Neverland, with a fiery feeling that seemed to burn his heart day in and day out. A similar feeling had haunted him for hundreds of years (had he really lived that long?), except this one was consuming him rather than feeding his desire to live long enough to kill someone. He had betrayed a mermaid princess to secure the planks he now sailed on with his crew, refusing her request of help to find her prince, marauded on some distant shore. He had honestly thought the colored planks and ropes of the Jolly Roger would quickly drown that terrible, hollow void in his heart. Alas, days, weeks, months had passed... and he found himself sailing an insipid ocean of woes and sorrows, regrets, desires unfulfilled... and the teasing memory of a kiss, still tickling his lips, a playful reminder of what could have been... and a torture that was set to haunt him for the rest of his days.

Some evenings, when the crew slept, he'd sit atop the deck and look at the stars... He'd see swan figured constellations guiding his ship to nowhere. She didn't remember him... she didn't know who he was and how much he loved her any more. She no longer had a clue regarding their times, adventures and conversations and in spite of not reciprocating his feelings, he ached at the thought that Captain Hook would be nothing more than some comedic character from a children's film, a villain in the pages of a book, and nothing else. She harbored no recollection of the kiss she had given him in Neverland, that kiss that was child's play to her but had completely and utterly turned his whole world upside down. And while she no longer even held the memory of his voice, his eyes, his smile, he had so far maintained himself true to his words, those last words he had ever said to her... 'There's not a day will go by that I won't think of you...'

And he had, every single day, hour and minute... And it hurt, like a million knives to his already blackened, tainted heart.

On one occasion of many where he spent those cold nights adrift in the ocean, he stared into the vast infinity of the ocean around him and the stars that reflected upon the peaceful stillness of the waters, gloriously crowned by a full moon. No significant amount of Rum would ever be able to quench that desire to reach out and feel her, touch her, kiss her, or maybe just... just see her one last time. If only he could... Like many nights before, her name echoed painfully on his lips. "Emma...", before he felt the wind in his eyes that triggered the tear that found their own way down his scuffed, scarred cheek. The pain was far worse than what it had been when Milah had died. He had at least given her a sea burial, said his goodbye and turned to a different direction after she had gone, albeit a tortuous, vengeful one. But he had survived.

This was probably worse than Milah and Liam's passing put together.

He had toyed with the notion of committing his miserable self to Davy Jones's Locker. With her gone from his life and him from her memories, he had no direction to sail to. No sextant, no magic or treasure could ever replace the green glint in her eye or the sunshine of her hair. He had stepped atop the deck for his final time.

With a sorrowful sigh, he took a swig from his flask and tossed the now empty bottle into the sea. His hand gingerly touched the handles of the helm, polished by years of his hand's friction, and caressed it as he would a loyal dog. He grinned a sad grin, tears running down his eyes. "I'm sorry, old girl." He spoke to his ship, his only loyal love, if only a material bunch of 'planks and a sail', as Ariel had stated. "A better Captain deserves to set your course. I'm far too broken now, m'girl, not man enough for a beauty like yourself. I yearn for another, love, one that I can never have nor will I ever see again... you must understand. I truly wish I had been right, I truly wish you had been all I needed. And you were, m' darling, for the longest of times... but now, you must continue sailing and I... I will stop here. I thank you, my Jolly..."

It was odd, but he could have sworn that the ship replied with a long, high pitched sound of creaking wood. The Jolly Roger ached for her master's heartache and mourned their soon to be parting.

With a sigh, he cleaned off his tears with the frilled sleeve of his black shirt, and set out to fasten the wooden plank along the edge of the ship. How many crones, villains and malfeasants, pirates, guardsmen, fathers, sons and brothers had he pushed off the wavering edge of the Jolly's plank? He didn't really know. But he understood that all deeds have a price... and this was his. To endure a lifetime of ache and sorrow, alone, cursed with the mermaid's malediction, and the tragedy of Emma's oblivion. The one thing that made him grin amidst the darkness of his final thoughts was the notion that she was well, she was safe and happy with her son.

He stepped atop the plank and walked, feeling the unsteady wobble of the ship like he never had before, gingerly trying to reach the edge. He closed his eyes and grinned, feeling the breeze hit his face, longing for a life he no longer had and a woman he no longer knew...

And the impulse to jump into the watery chasm of his death was interrupted by the sound of fluttering wings.

He turned with a scorn to his helm; sitting atop, was a pigeon... a white pigeon.

He knew he was far too deep in the sea to have a shore bird of the sort come from land. This one possessed magic... and though his squinting eyes he saw something attached to its leg.

Curiosity took the best of him as he returned from the edge of death and approached the wanderlust bird, who cooed softly as he took it into his hand, reaching with his teeth to retrieve what seemed to be a message scribbled on a piece of fabric... and a tiny blue bottle.

He had to read the words more than once to fully grasp the meaning of the message... and he felt a sudden gush of wind sweep through the mast, helm and decks of the Jolly Roger, returning a glimpse of light, of hope, into his burdened heart.

'New curse coming, less than one day. Find The Savior. Memory potion in flask. Be the hero, Captain, bring Emma back home. '

For the first time in months, he felt an inevitable smile tickle his lips and a mild scuff left his lungs. "Emma..." he whispered.

Savior indeed; by the mere mention of her name she had just saved his life, yet again and without even knowing it!

Forgetting the death wish of the earlier hour, he swiftly climbed all the way atop the mast and jumped into the top basket. Using his sextant, he measured the exact latitude where the Charmings had last been, as well as the possible course to as distant a land as possible.

He grabbed a rope and slid all the way back down to the deck, and jumped to the alarm bell, ringing his crew awake. It took less than a minute for all the groggy pirate sailors to reach the deck and stand in line before the Captain.

"Listen here, you mangy dogs!" He started. "There's word of a new curse headed our way from the Enchanted Forest. The wind favors us tonight, so we are to deviate from this course and shall anchor over at Shoreman's Cove... There, all of you shall spend the rest of the day looking for the necessary provisions, to be back in the ship at no later than oh-two-hundred hours. From there we sail south- south east, as fast as the wind can carry us. Is that clear?"

"AYE AYE, SIR!" They all shouted before scurrying off in different directions, pulling ropes, setting white sails aloft a strong breeze... and the Captain proudly standing behind the help of his ship.

Smee stood beside him. "Sir, the plank is set."

"I'm aware of that, Smee..."

"Did you do off with one of your crew, sir?"

Hook turned two dark blue eyes under thick eyebrows. "No, but I shall, should you not cease this line of interrogation on your Captain..." Hook replied, irritated.

The podgy man scratched his head under his red hat. "Sorry sir, it just seems awfully odd to me. The plank should not be set if no man is to be thrown overboard."

"The only oddity here, Mr. Smee..." Killian stood mere inches from his face. "...Is for the first mate to be so bloody nosey of his Captain's private affairs. Now, this is my final warning: Leave... off. Now, will you continue this pointless pursue at your very own peril, or shall you just do as you're bloody told?"

Smee swallowed hard and nodded. "Im sorry sir. I'll get started right away..." And off he walked.

Stern looking, Hook looked into the horizon; but for all his efforts, he was incapable of concealing the impudent grin that lined his lips. "Emma..." He kept whispering to himself. "I'm coming to you, m'love..."

The Jolly reached the shores of the fishing town of Shoreman's Cove just after dawn; seeing the infamous ship of the well known bucaneer Captain Hook, the local fishermen cowered away and left the harbours free for the pirates to freeload. But the Captain instructed his crew to go in and go deep, to buy rum, apples and dried meat. Plus, he gave them three hours' shore leave.

Within minutes, the entire crew had squandered and he was left alone. No sooner had the last sailor taken his leave, he immediately set sail, fast and swift.

Along the way he started to try and lighten the weight of the vessel; he dumped barrels of rum over the edge, books, furniture, clothing and (with the deepest sorrow), his brother's books, maps and general belongings. When the curse was finally in plain view, he practically became a one-man crew; he had managed to outrun many a storm, but a curse was another thing altogether. Killian had practically been on his feet for over a day, was wet and cold to the bone and could feel that his ship would fall apart at any given second.

But on he pressed. "Go on, girl, hold out for me..."

When he turned his head back, he saw with regret how the massive cloud of green smoke engulfed the village he had left not an hour earlier, and a sigh of regret for his loyal crew left his lips. Still, he had no time to sit and wallow; he had a savior to save.

He certainly was one hell of a Captain.

By the time he reached the Eastern shores and the dessert dunes, the curse had run its course. He allowed himself the luxury of collapsing on his bed and sleeping for an entire day before setting out to the local village in search of a wizard, seer, witch or magician who might have either a bean of the adequate wand to set him on his way back to Emma.

He asked in every tavern where he could find a procurer of rare items, or a sorcerer... And the one person he encountered surprised even him.

In a sense, seeing that Blackbeard was alive after he had shoved him off the edge of the plank was a relief; he had been burdened with guilt since their encounter, both because he had abandoned Ariel to her quest and because, regardless of the dubious laws of piracy that acknowledged his actions, it no longer felt right to kill a man. Apparently, after diving off the Jolly Roger, the young mermaid had saved Blackbeard in exchange for the location of her prince; the pirate had kept his word of gratitude for saving him and led the young mermaid princess to Eric.

They met at a dark tavern just off a beaten road, not far from the docks. Killian sat, tapping his hook on the wooden table, staring into the eyes of his foe, who held a pistol under the wooden slab, aimed directly at Hook's gut, while Hook held his blade to Blackbeard's groin.

They were locked; they either struck a deal or killed one another.

"So, let me see if I understand you, Hook..." the babbling older pirate spoke with a sarcastic smirk, his eyes clad in black eyeliner. "You have come here in search of passage to the other worlds, eh? And you were told that I would likely be the best source for it..." He laughed and leaned into the table. "And what makes you think I'd cooperate, mate?"

Killian smiled his deadliest grin. "Because, everyone knows who Edward Teach and Killian Jones are... and, that they are pirates, the very worst of them. As such, mate, we have a code to follow..." He leaned forward, his blade pressed against his enemy's privates. "Should you provide me with a satisfactory response, I am willing to repay you... quite handsomely." He clucked his tongue. "Should you not, well..." he grinned. "We shall both die. And neither one of us will profit. Alas, unlike you, I have nothing to lose."

Blackbeard laughed. "And why should I trust you?"

"Well, for one, I have my sword too close to your personals, love. By the time you pull the trigger, you will have bled halfway out. You know how fast a bladesman Captain Hook is known to be, don't you? So, it's either that, or..." he shrugged. "We do business and have over and done with. The fact that we are pirates should not deter us from being gentlemen, now, should it, Teach?"

"And I suppose it was awfully gentlemanly on your part to shove me off the plank, then, Jones..."

"No more than stealing a fellow pirate's ship, mate." Killian grinned, tilting his head sideway. "The code entitled me to either maraud you, behead you or make you walk the plank. The latter seemed a little less..." He sneered and shrugged. "...melodramatic."

Blackbeard huffed and licked his lower lip. He chuckled and looked back up to Hook. "Verily... before I even dare ask what it is you offer, Hook..." He leaned forward on the table. "I must say, I can't deny the fact that I feel deadly curious as to your musings. You were once the deadliest pirate of these oceans, even fiercer than I and Long John silver put together..." He chuckled ironically. "Then we all become aware that Captain Hook has gone soft for some unworldly wench. So... what makes you want to leave the realm this time? Same bird?"

Hook pressed his lips together. "My business is my own. Are you up to the trade, or are you not?"

Blackbeard laughed aloud. "Hook, Hook, Hook... Did you not only just suggest we be gentlemen?" he raised his one free hand with a chuckle. "Answer my query and I might just consider making a deal with you... Is this for some bloody snip, that you do all this? Has the infamous one handed terror of the oceans truly lost his gut?"

Killian gritted his teeth and snarled back at Blackbeard. "She, mate... is The Savior. And that is all you need to know." He too, leaned into the table. "So then, Blackbeard... will there be a trade, or should I take my quest elsewhere, to someone who might just be interested in the Jolly Roger?

Black beard raised an eyebrow. "Your vessel..."

"Aye..."

"For a bloody bean?"

Hook swallowed. "That is all I need."

Blackbeard swept his adversary with his gaze before suddenly pulling away his armed hand and placing the pistol on the table. Hook lowered the blade.

"Well, I do believe you have all but given up on piracy, Captain Jones." Blackbeard smirked. "I could just as easily put a hole through your spleen and take your ship."

"Aye, you could." Killian nodded. "But you won't. Quite simply because... well..." he grinned again. "...you can't wait to flaunt my ship to the world as your own... and to tell everyone that I willingly yielded her to you in exchange for that particular merchandise. You can't tell the world that Captain Hook has gone soft if he's dead now, can you? You can't wait to become this realm's most cutthroat pirate, now, to have control of MY trade routes on MY ship, the idea of that is just far too enticing, mate. So..." he placed his blade back into its sheath and placed his open palm on the table. "Do we have a deal?"

Blackbeard's eyes rolled from Kiliian's hand to his eyes, and a smile cruised his lips. "You willingly seek such humiliation, Hook?"

Killian raised an eyebrow and replied promptly. "I'll have you do as you will, mate, I have no intention of returning to this blasted realm."

After staring hard into Hook's eyes, Blackbeard laughed aloud. "This wench must be a bloody goddess..." He reached out and shook his foe's hand. When he pulled away, a single, white bean sat on Hook's palm.

Killian grinned and closed a fist around it, taking it to his lips as he closed his eyes, his every thought focused on his Swan as he reached into his pocket for the key to unlock the helm of the Jolly Roger. He held it out to Blackbeard, who took it gently from Hook's fingers. "She's yours, Teach. Sail her well."

"Oh..." He nodded. "I intend to..." Hook huffed, nodded and stood to walk away and set course to Emma's side as soon as possible. "Pleasure doing business with you, captain Hook!" He shouted mockingly from the table as he pocketed the key.

Killian turned a sad and unburdened look at the other pirate, grinning and shaking his head. "Wish I could say the same, mate..." And out he walked before anyone in the joint could see the tears in his eyes.

From the distance, he took one final glance at his ship; he heaved and bit his lip.

"Swan..." he muttered under his breath. "I will find you..." He turned and walked away, never to look back again.

In spite of his sadness over the loss of his beloved ship, his heart felt light. Sure, Blackbeard, he knew, would slander his name. He would be the one to sail his vessel to the far confines of the realm, sleep in the bed that had sheltered him nights and take over his trade routes... but he didn't care; he was to see Emma again. And that alone made him slime as he threw the bean hard onto the barren floor. As the vortex swirled beneath his feet, a deep sigh echoed the name of his love... and in her blessed name, he took a leap of faith into the revolving hole, thinking her, feeling her, seeing her in his mind and praying that the gateway would lead him to the right location...