Bound by the Tide - Captain Hook

He climbs back into his bed, and I follow, unsure of what this means, what this moment really is. But as I settle beside him, the silence between us is different now. Less suffocating, less angry, but still heavy with unspoken words.

He doesn't speak again, but for the first time, I can feel the weight of his loneliness, the strange turmoil inside him. And as I close my eyes, I wonder if this moment, this fragile truce between us, will be enough to change anything at all.

He opens his arms hinting for me to lay there. I do, I lay there on his chest, the rhythm of his heartbeat strong and steady beneath me. My fingers instinctively find their way to the tattoo on his right collarbone, tracing the intricate design with hesitant fingers. His skin is warm beneath my touch, and as my hand rests there, I feel the tension in his body. His arms come around me, pulling me closer, closing the space between us. I can't help the fear that rises in me, but I pray he can't feel the frantic pounding of my heart. I try to steady my breath, to hide the panic threatening to rise.

His fingers begin to trace up and down my back, gentle, almost soothing, and a shiver runs through me. Goosebumps erupt along my skin in response to the slow, tender movements. I close my eyes, letting the comfort of his touch wash over me, even though I hate it. I hate that I feel safe in his arms, that despite everything he's done—everything he could do to me—I'm finding solace here.

I want to push away. I want to fight against the warmth that seems to melt the fear inside of me. But I can't. I can't give into him—not after everything. My mind screams for me to resist, but my body betrays me, craving the security he offers, even if it's fleeting and dangerous. I close my eyes tighter, trying to ignore the conflicting emotions, trying to focus on the calming rise and fall of his chest.

I can feel his heart pounding slowly in time with mine, and his steady breathing becomes my anchor. It's almost too easy to let the pattern lull me, to surrender to the strange comfort in his arms. I don't want to feel this way. I don't want to need him, but the exhaustion takes over, and I find myself drifting off. My breath slows, my body relaxing, and eventually, the tension eases from my muscles. The last thing I remember before sleep claims me is the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath my ear and the warmth of his embrace—something I should fear, but in that moment, I can't seem to escape.

I wake up to an unsettling emptiness. The warmth of his chest, the rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing, is gone. I panic, my heart racing in my chest as I sit up, searching frantically for him. I'm still in the same position, the sheets tangled around me like remnants of a dream. The cool silk slides off my skin, and the reality of the room hits me hard. I scan the space in desperation, but my eyes land on James sitting at the desk, his back to me, engrossed in a book.

"You're awake," he says, his voice flat, without looking up. "He told me to keep an eye on you."

I freeze. His words don't register immediately. He told you to keep an eye on me? That's all he says? I swallow hard, trying to quell the rising panic. "You don't know what happened. Don't look so bitter," I snap, walking toward him, a knot forming in my chest.

James doesn't budge, his expression unreadable as his gaze remains locked on the pages of his book. "Put some clothes on," he orders, his tone sharp, harsher than I expected.

I glance down, realizing I'm still wearing the oversized shirt Hook had given me. It falls to my thighs, the sleeves hanging loosely over my arms. I feel exposed in a way I can't explain, and for a brief moment, I wonder how much James has seen, how much he knows.

"It's not what you think, James," I say, my voice softer now as I kneel beside his chair, resting my hands on his arms. He doesn't look at me. "I need you on my side. You don't know what he does to me here." I pause, my heart hammering in my chest, the weight of my words sinking in. "Please. I need your help. I have to leave this place."

There's a long silence before he responds. He doesn't look up from his book, but I feel his eyes harden in my direction. "So you can go back to Peter?" he asks, his voice laced with disbelief.

"No," I say, the word coming out a little too quickly. "So I can go back home."

I stand up, intent on leaving the room, but before I can take a step, James grabs my wrist with a force that makes me wince. I freeze, my heart lurching in my chest. His grip is tight, unyielding.

"You can't leave this room. Hook's orders," he says, his voice cold and commanding. I can't breathe, panic coursing through me.

"Watch me," I snap, my words sharp with defiance. I grab the knife from his belt, and in a moment of sheer desperation, I press it against his hand, using the blade to slice through the space between us. He releases me, momentarily stunned, and I take the opportunity to dart toward the door.

But it's locked.

I try the handle, panic rising, but it won't budge. Before I can make sense of it, James is there again, pinning my hand to the door with a force that leaves me breathless. The knife falls from my hand, useless, as he wrenches it away. He presses me hard against the wall, the cold edge of the blade pressing into my neck, the sensation sending a wave of terror through me.

"This is the last time thinking you can best me," he growls, his voice dripping with menace. I can feel the sharpness of the blade as it runs down from my neck to the buttons of my shirt. The knife slices through the fabric effortlessly, cutting into my skin with a precision that makes me gasp in pain.

Before I can respond, the door swings open, and Hook steps inside, his presence filling the room with a cold, commanding authority. Both James and I freeze at the sight of him. The tension in the room shifts in an instant.

"Leave us," Hook says calmly, his voice low, controlled.