Killian is trying to adjust to life without you. Storybrooke has pulled the kingdom back to this land once again, but this time he has someone he cares about. Had. He had someone he cared about. Over the last few months, he has searched every corner of the town, wandered the woods, and asked everyone who would hear him if they'd seen you. With no luck. The Charmings put on their most worried faces and said they'd keep a lookout but they've proven themselves shortsighted about anyone not in that dammed book of theirs. Killian has loved and lost once. He never thought he'd have to go through this again. Sure, that was because he didn't think he'd ever love again, but then he met you and you swept him off his feet.
—0—
There he is. Captain Hook. Pirate names are always so on the nose. Or in this case, on the missing hand. You thank the gods every day that you weren't slapped with such an obvious moniker. For years you've been waiting to encounter him again. After all, he's the reason you became a pirate. As freeing as this life has proven, you aren't here to thank him. He took something that belonged to you and you intend to get it back.
You've been watching him from across the tavern all night, deciding how you're going to confront him. Games of cards and dice have been keeping him occupied with his crew glued to his side. From the looks of it, things are not going his way tonight. Maybe he'd be less concerned about the game if he knew how much worse his night is about to get.
While you have no doubts you can handle yourself against the few portly men surrounding him— simply by saying your name if that's how you wanted to handle it— your quarrel isn't with them. You're going to make him feel the shock and powerlessness that you felt that day he came to your family's palace and stole from you. So, you've been waiting to get him alone. It takes all night, but you've waited years already. What's one more night? One by one, you watch his crew head back to the ship until he sits alone at the table.
Then your moment of truth comes. Hook stands from his seat-- more than a little uneven on his feet. You'd prefer a fair fight but you've waited too long to let something as simple as rum stand in the way of your payback. As he heads out the back door, you get up to follow him. When he came in earlier, you left to scope out the premises, so you know it opens into a back alley. Back alley means no one will be around to disturb you when you take him by surprise. As the tavern door closes behind you, he turns around.
"You know love, if you wanted to get me alone—"
So much for surprise. It doesn't matter, though. He's drunk and you're fast. Instead of engaging with his flirting, you hook your leg behind his ankles and sweep his legs out from under him. The look on his face as he falls back onto the cobblestone is priceless but only in the most common way. It's the look all men get when they're taken off guard by a woman. Or it could be the one they get when they're falling to the ground. You suppose you'll never be able to tell the difference. Unless you attacked someone in drag one day. Could be fun. But as satisfying as that face always is, it's not what you're here to see. Now that he's down. you keep him there with a boot on his neck. As you anticipated, he lifts his hook either to wound you or to pull your leg away from his neck. You don't find out which, because you lean over him and grab his hook where it curves, twisting until it detaches from the base. You move your boot from his neck in favor of resting your knee on his chest, pinning his wrist to the ground with one hand. He struggles beneath you and you're almost surprised that it brings as much pleasure as you dreamed it would.
"What do you want?" He grits out through labored breaths.
You remember asking that with so much more desperation the first time you met. It sends a cold stream of rage through your veins both at the memory and because he isn't nearly distressed enough. You take his hook and press, dragging it up his chest, leaving a wet trail of red in its wake. As you reach his neck, you lighten your touch— you aren't trying to kill him— until you reach the top of his throat and press down until he winces. The skin breaks a bit, a threat, but no real harm comes yet.
