I wanted to write something a little different for Hook. So you get a non-linear narrative, all from the point of view of one, Killian Jones.

The moonlight cast a peaceful cerulean glow across the room as Hook lay on the raised bed shrouded in canvas sheets, soft with the wear of centuries at sea. The glow of the moon through a lone porthole, was his only source of light; creating a gentle silhouette that illuminated her features at the most striking angles.

Propped on his elbow he ran his fingers across her brow, brushing tight curls of dark hair from her eyes. She shuffled against him, her small hands wrapping in the chains that hung from his neck as she let out a gentle squeak, tipping her nose towards his throat. He smiled, soothing her with the pad of his thumb against her brow before trailing a besotted eye from the top of her head, right down to the delicate toes sticking out from the sheet.

He could feel eyes on him and he twisted his neck to see her standing there, arms crossed over her chest with such a look of serenity on her face he felt his heart fill with warmth. "Have you ever seen a being more perfect, love?" He questioned and Regina's eyes brightened with her wide smile.

He held his hand out, beckoning her to join them and when she lay down behind him with her arm wrapped securely around his waist, he felt her long release of breath against the back of his neck.

"No," She sighed. "Who'd have thought a broken Queen and an angry pirate, could have created that?"

"Can we do this?" She questioned, twisting on the spot to look up into his eye. Hook stood on the opposite side of the kitchen, the broad expanse of marble countertop a very physical obstacle between them. A part of him wanted to flip it off it's legs to get to her, whilst another part, the part that made his palm sweat and his heart pound, was glad of it's encumbrance.

He swallowed, unsure of what was to leave his mouth but aware he was required to speak. "I think we can, love." He chose, for the moment, to believe his subconscious knew best.

"Really?" She asked with that ever present sense of dread Regina seemed to carry with her like a lead-weight on her back.

At the look of terror in her eyes, the doubt in his mind seemed to lift. A small smile played at the corner of his mouth as he stepped around the table. "Yeah," He breathed, pressing his broad hand to the flat of her stomach, feeling the soft caress of expensive silk and the press of her belt's brass buckle, that's days were numbered. "It'll be anything but conventional," He smirked, raising his hand to grip her chin tenderly. "But we'll make it work, darling."

Hook gasped for breath as he staggered back, her small frame clambering into him as they fumbled for purchase on the deck of his ship. The water below rocked and rolled, tossing them this way and that as the rain crashed against them. Her hair stuck to her face, plastered to her neck as he gripped her thighs, lifting her against him as her legs wrapped around his waist.

"It's storming, Regina," He gasped out between feverish kisses, pressing her back against the sturdy mast for added support. "Is this really the best time?"

She didn't answer. Clinging to him so tightly he was certain she believed he hadn't seen her tears. Regina ground her hips down into his. Her fingers scraped through drenched black hair and for the briefest moment, he caught a glimpse of the make-up bleeding down her face.

She wouldn't tell him that her cheeks were wet before the rain, not that night, and he wouldn't ask.

"Why yellow, love?" He questioned, making his way into the nursery with a smirk on his face. Regina grinned when she saw him; that bright, unabashed grin he'd started to see so much more often since she'd really started to show.

"It's neutral," She set her paintbrush down and padded across the room, her socked feet making barely discernible thuds on the carpet. Reaching into a box, she pulled out a delicate mobile made of blown glass and bright, whimsical colours. Hook laughed when he worked it out, crossing the room to join her by the half-constructed mahogany crib. "And it'll go perfectly with this." She smirked, meeting his eye as he touched a tiny glass figure with his fingertips.

"You've a sense of humour under all that malicious intent, darling."

She laughed melodiously, tapping her perfectly manicured nail against the delicate foot of Peter Pan, knocking the small chimes together so that the collision of the boy in green and his own, cartoon self, made a harmonious sound.

"You missed it," Regina sighed with resignation, looking down at the tiny being sleeping peacefully beneath flannelette sheets. He watched her from the doorway, studying the shape of her figure in the moonlight as she leaned over the crib; one hand reaching down into where he could not see. They kept their voices near to a whisper.

"I'm sorry, love."

He didn't move from his spot.

"I hope you almost died." He could hear the tears in her voice and he looked down at his boots, grateful for the darkness so that, if she were to turn and look at him, he wouldn't have to see the disappointment he so passionately feared.

"I did, actually."

"Good." She spat and he saw the way her small hand gripped the rail of the crib. There was silence for a time and Hook couldn't help but think he deserved it. He'd promised to return in time. He'd promised, come hell or high water, Neverland would not keep him from his child.

Day one and he'd failed.

"Get over here," Her voice suddenly broke him free of his self-loathing, cracking the silence apart and forcing him to look up. "Make it up to your daughter."

"I will," He wrapped his arm around her waist, letting a long, shaking breath free as she rested her head on his shoulder and moved her hand aside so that their baby could wrap her tiny fingers around his. "Every minute of every day, darling," He kissed her temple. "I swear."

He could see her as the sun crept over the shore. Storybrooke was still a way off, but from his perch at the helm, he could see the docks and the small wharf they'd taken as their own. His ship moored in Storybrooke often enough to have it's own place of pride, standing tall amongst the disused fishing boats and rusted dingys.

As he inched closer he could see them clearer, rugged up against the cold as they huddled together in the early morning chill. Regina had their daughter held tightly to her hip, urging the child to wave her hand as the ship came in to port.

He couldn't contain his glee as she ran the gangplank, barely free of her mother's hold before she was clambering up the weathered wooden steps, taking them hands first on all-fours as Regina laughed behind her.

Dark curls bounced on the top of her head, glistening in the dawn sunlight as he swept her into his arms, eliciting a laughter that took his breath away. He kissed her nose, earning him more giggles as he blew raspberries on her rose-colored cheeks.

"Did you miss me, love?" He questioned; setting the blue-eyed toddler on his hip with a lascivious smirk toward the Queen.

"Always." She pressed a kiss to his lips, laughing against his mouth when their little girl pulled at her hair.

"Papa!" She shrieked, slapping his leather-clad shoulder in excitement.

"I waited to name her." Regina said quietly, sitting up in the dark as he made his way slowly across the room. Her bedroom was covered in cool creams and whites, a stark contrast to the grimy black he slowly removed, piece by piece as he neared the bed.

The room remained hers, as his quarters on the ship remained his. There was a vest or two in her closet, worn leather like his others and in his quarters, a few jewels, trinkets and perfumes that weren't his to barter.

"I thought you'd be back."

"I know, love," He crawled across the bed, resting his hand and his hook on either side of her hips as he inched closer. A sob escaped her the nearer he got and finally, he could see the tears in her eyes.

"I'm not really glad you almost died."

Reaching up to touch his finger tips to her cheek, he brushed her tears away with his thumb, leaning forward to press a kiss to her lips.

"I know, love."

"Papa, can I come to Neverland?" Tiny little Clara asked with the bold confidence she'd been learning from her mother.

"Oh, I think that's a question for your mother, poppet. Neverland is a scary place." He watched her as he tied the deck ropes, being sure to see she wasn't skipping too close to the edge.

She hopped back towards him, the end of her red scarf flapping in the gentle sea breeze where it had fallen free of her royal blue coat. "Why do you go so much?"

"I have to, my love." He bopped her nose with his finger causing her to giggle as he tugged her towards him to tuck her scarf back around her neck.

"Henry says that Neverland isn't like the stories. Is that true, Papa?"

"Your brother is a clever lad," He grinned. "It's very true. Neverland is a dark place. Maybe when you're older, we can take you to see the land where your Mother is Queen and you're a princess. Would you like that?"

"Oh, very much Papa!"

Regina slapped his chest angrily, pounding against his body with every ounce of her strength. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Henry dragging Clara up the stairs, her eyes trained on her parents with confusion and fear.

He let Regina pound into him, holding her arms gently to stop her teetering over, but that was all he did to slow the flood. He deserved it, again. Case in point he was a pirate and they knew this day would come. "We thought you died!" She screamed, punching him, wailing. "How dare you!" She rasped. "Do you have any idea how I suffered? How Clara has suffered."

He kept his face impassive and his arms strong, allowing her the anger, the frustration and the pain. Allowing her to let it free.

"A year!" She screamed, staggering back from him. "The deals I had to make, the pain we all suffered." She struggled to breathe. "Do you even know what it was like?!"

"No, love." He did, but that wasn't the point.

"Promise me," She breathed, looking up into his eyes. "Stand before me and promise me you'll never let that happen again."

"I can't."

Regina punched his chest one last time, thumping him with everything she had before she stormed into the kitchen, slamming the door behind her.

He didn't follow.

"Are you and Mom ever going to get married?" Henry asked, slouching in the uncomfortable plastic chair with Hook beside him, picking at his fingernails with the tip of his hook. He looked up suddenly, meeting the teenager's eye.

"How would you feel if we did?"

Henry shrugged, twirling the headphones for his iPod between his fingers. "Clara would love to be a flower girl."

There was silence between them as they each stared at their shoes. Hook glanced toward Henry and Henry glanced toward Hook, but neither when the other was looking. "I-I wouldn't be your stepdad or anything, if you don't want."

"It's not that," Henry was quick to respond, straightening up in his seat. "It's just, my Mom's always been my Mom. And now she's my Mom, you and Clara," Both of them looked towards the swinging double-doors, flinching when a doctor flew through. They each calmed quickly when they realised the doctor wasn't coming for them.

"You're worried your relationship with your Mother is changing?"

"I don't really know what I'm worried about."

Hook gripped Henry's shoulder, smiling at the young boy who was slowly growing into a strong young man. Fifteen years old and he was already taller than Regina, giving Hook the evil eye whenever his mother shed a tear and singing his little sister lullabies when the pirate absconded with his mother to the ship.

"I promise," Hook breathed, recognising Doctor Whale as he pushed through the doors. He gripped Henry's shoulder tighter, forcing the boy to meet his eye before he stood, looking down at him with a warm smile. "I can promise, what you have with your mother can never be replaced, Henry."

"Captain," The Doctor raised his eyebrows, urging the pirate to follow. "It's time."

"I'll see you later, mate." Hook winked at the boy and Henry laughed, waving him off.

"Bring me back a little brother."

"Will you ever come with me?" Hook questioned, lying on his side with her back tucked against his chest, his arm around her waist and his nose in her hair. The night was warm enough that they'd left the windows open; the sheer white curtains blowing in the breeze and he smiled at the way she pulled his arm tighter around her.

"No." She curled her fingers around his, pulling his hand up so that she could kiss his knuckles before holding their hands together over her heart. "Will you ever stay?"

He smiled against her hair, pressing a kiss to the top of her head as he whispered. "No."

They could see their son twisting in his bassinet beside the bed, letting out a small sound of contentment before he stilled. In the next room, Henry was telling a wild tale about dragons and princesses to which, every now and then, they could hear the shrieks of excitement from an enraptured toddler.

Hook sighed, pulling her tighter against him, breathing in the scent of apples with just a touch of cinnamon. He loved that smell; it was the smell of Regina, mix in a little raspberry and it was the smell of Clara and it was the smell of home.

"But I'll always come back, my love."