The sea had never meant to show mercy. Waves the size of towers had torn the Jolly Roger apart, swallowing the ship and everyone on it. When Hook opened his eyes again, he was lying on a cliff, his body stiff with salt, his coat heavy with sand—and you were sitting beside him, staring out at the horizon.

For a long moment neither spoke. The sky was still bruised from the storm. His voice came out raw. “Why?”

You glanced down, hair dripping with rain. “Because you were sinking,” you said simply. “Even pirates don’t deserve to drown.”

He should have laughed, mocked, snarled—but all he felt was confusion. Your eyes weren’t mocking tonight. They were tired. Human.

Hook turned his head toward the waves. “You saved me,” he said, tasting the words. “And now I owe you. I hate debts, boy.”

You smiled faintly. “Then call it even.”