Greetings to everyone, thank you for giving this a read. This is the first of four one-shots in the mini-series tentatively titled 'Between Thunderclaps'. The next, 'Angel Fell' will be posted on December 7th and will be rated M.

The unofficial song for this one-shot is the cover of Wicked Game by Ursine Vulpine ft Annaca - I listened to it a lot while writing this and I feel it fits really well with especially the closing part of the story so feel free to play it in the background.

Enjoy!

In an odd way, Sabre had made a shrine in herself.

Dedicated to the life and person she would never have the chance to return to, tribute after tribute making their mark; it was both her way of holding on and letting go.

The darkness of her hair had become its own tribute, as had the pale scars streaking down both cheeks, and undoing it would have been a profanity in itself. The prominence of indigo in her attire had been the first conscious mark, the tailoring of her hair second, the tattoo third, and the mask fourth. In all fairness, Soto had offered after finishing masks for the twins. It matched the tattoo. And it fit perfectly.

The scar on her chest was the only homage of another of her many faces. It was the only one in the hybrid that she needed.

She'd been so afraid when fragments began to slip away for no reason other than human imperfection, tearing apart the crystalline clarity of their restoration, to the point where she couldn't even remember Valdemarr's face, or Rielus'.

The wild god paid his dues; brushed away the dust to preserve the inhuman imprints, of everything, so they could never be erased, except by his hand. Before she couldn't remember; now, she couldn't forget. Not for long.

He knew more of her than, perhaps, anyone alive and he knew little. Sabre wished to keep it that way. Their game of secrets had slowed since it seemed her revelations had exhausted their use to him. Skin clean and bed cold, Sabre fell along the masses who lived for a glimpse or touch, under the burden of hoping against hope that it'd be enough to lead to more. Sabre had no idea how the others dealt with their disregarded infatuations, other than turning to comfort in one another's arms. Meanwhile she recited the words Pan had given to her, several moons, now carved into rock and wood, before.

The hound had to be kept tame.

The child thief tended his stolen goods diligently, as a shepherd did their flock, when it suited him. Whomever had once said that absence made the heart fonder…perhaps it had been Pan himself, who knew? Yet if he was the shepherd, he was also the wolf that prowled in the night, stealing away lost little lambs from their homes and beds.

He would make them wait, make them ache, make them break, until he became everything they could ever need and want. From the quietest corners, Sabre had watched him tend their new arrivals; how he sunk in his talons into them, one at a time, and how they couldn't wait to strip themselves of all they could and bare themselves before him. She hadn't been able to appreciate it before, just how different it was for the Lost Ones who were all too willing to dance into Pan's clutches. It surprised her a little at how careful he was, making any and every necessary alteration to complete the transformation. But then it didn't surprise her at all, and more than a little time had gone to musing how differently the story would have been told if she'd been the same as any Lost One, if Pan had chosen her. Did he ever hate her for it?

The mask, in the mimicry of the only animal it could have ever been, was left safely with her belongings, stowed away in the hut that was undisputedly hers – she didn't have to fight for much anymore – and she slipped away from the camp without a word.

The sun was still climbing the stairs to its highest throne, meaning the waters wouldn't have had enough time to warm through, despite the hot – and sometimes humid – climate of the island, but it only meant the bay would be empty. It was better that way. Slipping down to her leggings and the thin shirt under her jerkin, Sabre left everything in a pile against the rocks that ascended up to the cliffs, and sighed. Minaty Bay, where it'd all begun.

The seawater should have been cold against her bare feet but she never felt it. Not even a chill. She waded in, unhurried, the water gliding through her spread fingers in the way she just loved. Waist deep and her hair was already floating on the sparkling surface. Its difficulty to comb didn't stop her liking the way it looked when it dried with the sea woven in the tresses. From habit, she closed her eyes and slipped below the gentle waves, still edging into deeper waters; there was always a pinch of resistance to opening her eyes, a fearful expectation of the stinging sear. Though, like the chill of the water, it, too, never came. Her eyes didn't feel a thing, they were simply numb.

With the water about ten feet deep, Sabre angled to begin swimming along the shoreline, her head staying inches below the rippling surface. A small ache built in her chest and she let it come peacefully, not coming up for air.

The deeper she swam the fainter it became. And when her hands caressed the pale blanket of sand it was as though her lungs were filled to the brim.

An undying vibrancy was carried through her blood and seeped through. She pushed off from the sand but still didn't come far enough to breathe air. Pale limbs cut through the crystalline without hindrance, hair rippling and never having a chance to catch up. Tiny fish, barely the size of her fingers swam in front of her, skimming the sand. It was no struggle to keep up with them, even as they scattered and darted when she came closer to see, innocently captivated with the way their silvery scales and fins shimmered. All was quiet, all was beautiful.

Oberon had told her she could never know peace, but if this was the closest she could reach, then that was good enough for her.

Smiling wide, water filled her mouth. The taste of salt wasn't nearly as strong as expected – it was nearly closer to sweet in the back of her mouth. When she came up for air, Sabre was on the other side of the bay. It didn't confuse or frighten her anymore. She knew and she'd never tell.

"What?"

Felix smirked at her from under his hood. "You heard me. After dark."

"This is what he wants?" Sabre pressed.

"Practically insisted on it," he bowed his head in affirmation, the corners of his mouth never slipping. "Don't forget your mask."

Watching him walk away, knowing there was nothing more of use to be said, Sabre dragged blunt fingers through the ends of her damp hair. A trick or a test, it has to be. And, of course, she would obey. She wouldn't do anything he'd warned her not to do.

And he hadn't warned her not to do what she intended to do.

She had to jump up to sling the wet clothes over the branch where she usually hung things up to dry, boots resting on one of the long winding roots. The hairs at the back of her neck prickled in sensing a presence close behind her. Few could succeed in sneaking up on her while she was paying attention.

"We'll train tomorrow, yes?" Vasha said as the girl turned, ready to meet his eye.

"Yes, fine," Sabre answered hurriedly, quick to diverge. "Do we still have lanterns in the hut?"

The boy paused to think for a brief moment. "I believe so." He didn't ask why; he likely would have, several moons ago.

She was already moving past him, head ducked to avoid his eyes. "Thanks. I'll find you tomorrow."

It took just long enough to find a lantern before Sabre could begin to become frustrated, and she left it hidden under a tatty blanket until dusk was on the horizon, spending the rest of the afternoon sewing up Tally's cloak, while in sporadic conversation with Slightly and Nibs. The poor boy was still struggling to find his feet, it was the least she could do for him. It had taken a while to come to terms with the fact that he reminded her of Curly.

When enough light had been purged, daytime ritually becoming little more than an echo, Sabre slipped away to her hut to collect the mask, taking the lantern on her way. With the flints she kept to light torches in the evenings, enough sparks were discretely chipped to light the lantern.

She couldn't explain the knots in her belly as she put the mask in place, having only worn it before to be sure it fit, unnerved by just how perfectly it fit her. Almost too much so.

Through its hollow eyes, Sabre could see faultlessly – she'd always hated masks or helmets that obscured the full range of her vision. Soto had been, and still was, proud of his ability to craft masks in a way so they wouldn't come hot and sticky with use – and the material was lovely and cool against her face as she slipped it on, trying to evade the disconcertedness of how natural it felt to wear. You've been wearing masks a long time. You're a natural. Gods, she was even beginning to sound like him.

There was still a long way to go until she could walk Neverland's winding paths as if blindfolded but her feet knew where to take her well enough. The sun still lingered on the western horizon as Sabre ascended the cliffs of the corresponding side of Minaty Bay, the moon already rising on the other, and half the bay was bathed in its silvery glow. There was still time. The skies no longer seemed to drown in onyx; instead their hue was captured in the balance between royal and navy blue, and the stars glittered above like diamonds. On another night, like plenty before, Sabre would have stopped to admire their beauty.

At the farthest point, with the evening breeze in her hair and the Jolly Roger in sight, Sabre lifted the lantern from the shroud of her cloak, its flame wished and willed to be as bright as the North Star. Good men had been lost bringing the ship close to the shore in darkness, no matter how many times it had sailed Neverland's waters.

She hoped they would see her, that he would see her.

It was over a year since she'd seen him. How long it had been for him, she didn't know.

The lantern moved slowly, its light ebbing and growing, a handheld lighthouse. Sabre was certain that the ship, still small in the distance, was sailing closer, so the lantern kept on going. The ship's captain would be coming ashore tonight. And Pan couldn't have his business partner drowning if their rowboat sank. It might have been a valid excuse if she could convince him she believed it.

The rowboat drifted into the bay soon after. Beneath the mask, Sabre drew in a breath that caught in the back of her throat, for he looked exactly as she remembered him. Well-kept but naturally a little rugged, clad in that damned black coat, which he wore like a second hide.

She couldn't imagine his face if he saw what she'd become.

Keen hearing picked up a rustle of leaves from across the bay as the meeting party stepped out onto the rocks and sand. Abandoning her post, Sabre climbed down to the shore, crossing in the longest strides to catch up to the pack just as the rowboat ground to a halt, gritting on the sand, the exact way it had done all that time ago. Killian led the way, hand resting on the hilt of his sword, his crew following with sacks over their shoulders and torches in their hands.

Felix gave Sabre a long look as the masked girl tucked herself in behind Slightly and Tobias, the lantern hanging by her thigh, dimmed and flickering. Only Felix's face was unhidden. His club was slung over his shoulder, at ease and quietly menacing, its message easily understood.

"You make good time, Captain," he gave a wry grin, eyes cold in the dark.

"I do my best," the sound of the pirate's voice made her belly churn and heart ache. He looked over his shoulder and gestured to his crew, who were tentative in their step as they came forward to put down the supplies.

For a moment, Sabre half expected to see another figure, little with shortened hair tied back, emerge with them.

Viper and Hayes shared a glance, and a smirk, beneath their masks; in unison they lurched forward with feral hisses, sniggering as the grown men flinched back, teeth bared in aggressive defence.

"Pan does have a taste for brats, doesn't he?" Killian said, folding his arms.

It was Hayes who made a snarl. "Come here and say that."

"Now, now. No reason why we can't play nicely," Felix lifted a hand to quell the boy's irritation. "Pan would like to request a consignment of weapons for next time. Anything you can get your hands on. Maybe a little treasure. It's for a game he's got planned, you know the drill."

"A game where sailors and explorers are lured here like lambs to the slaughter," he grit his teeth at the boy's reproachful stare, both aware of the fragility of his position, before sighing. "I'll see it done."

Felix lowered in a mocking bow, arms opened, meanwhile the other figures remained inanimate. "A pleasure, Captain, as usual."

Killian stepped forward as the feral pack readied to withdraw, sacks hauled over their shoulders and tucked under their arms. "Before you go," he paused to wait for Felix's attention to settle on him. His brow grew heavy. "Is…Is she still here?"

"You're gonna have to be a little more specific, Capt-"

"Dammit, you know exactly who I mean," the pirate snapped, top lip curling. "Is Venger still alive? What the bloody hell did Pan want her for?"

Sabre's face screwed up, head drooping, and if she hadn't been hidden behind taller bodies someone may have seen. Fingers twitched to tear off the mask. The fabric of the sacks crippled under her little fists.

Felix allowed his club to swing loosely from his shoulder. "She goes by Sabre now. I think she was all too keen to shed that particular alias when you abandoned her… Hurry back, Captain, hurry back."

Felix's praise, however earnest, meant nothing to Sabre.

She'd told him to fuck off as she'd taken off the mask with cold eyes and a snarling mouth, having practically tossed the sacks into the huts without a care for what was inside. "Who in hell was that meant as punishment for? Me or him?" she barked before shoving past him.

No one came near or questioned as she snatched up the lantern and disappeared into the dark. She didn't try to stop the tears that had been waiting torturously for what felt like hours as they burned in her eyes. She didn't care that she stubbed her toes or scrapped her limbs while trudging through Neverland's woods, heading straight back for the bay. Salt didn't sting in her wounds anyway.

The torches and lanterns that lit up the Jolly Roger were like stars themselves, gracefully illuminating the ship's beautiful shape. There was no sign of the rowboat on the dark water.

Placing the lantern down in the sand, Sabre undid the clasp of her charcoal cloak, having to pause to untangle a particularly stubborn knot. In hindsight she should have brought a cloth to dry with before wetting a second set of clothes but couldn't quite care as one piece of attire was shed after another, once more leaving her in nothing but breeches and a thin undershirt. With a last glance to be sure the lantern would guide her back to shore, Sabre ran to the water.

No chill crawled up her legs or sank in where droplets splashed on skin as she sprinted until the water pushed too strongly against her. One deep breath and she dove forward and under.

The sea should have been black, too dark to navigate but it was not so. A few blinks and Sabre could make out vague light that came from nowhere, just enough to clear the way. Her pale limbs pulled through the blue, hands reaching as if trying to grasp something that was always an inch from reach, and, like in a strong wind, her hair rippled long behind her. Tiredness never came, and she could only go ever faster.

The ancestors would be proud.

When she came up, Sabre expected the rugged vessel to still be quite a distance away. Instead she found herself looking up, up, up…

"Hold up, did you hear that?"

"Bloody mermaids."

Only then did she gasp, seizing with fright. The deck thudded with booted footsteps.

"Captain!"

Heart in her throat, Sabre bolted beneath the calm waves towards the ship's keel, splashing again in her reckless retreat. So far below, the voices were impossible to even detect. A minute went by, maybe two, maybe three. Lungs empty of air, Sabre padded along the hull, silently praying she wouldn't suddenly find a harpoon sticking in her, until she reached the stern, and waited there a minute more, just beneath the surface.

All was silent.

Sabre broke the water so carefully so as not to make a sound that could not be lost in the gentle laps of the waves.

"And would you like to have someone hold your hand across the deck as well, Mr Smee?"

Sabre's dripping lips pulled in a smile, half joyous, half heartbroken. He'd not changed.

She had to get closer. Even if just for one more time.

Every movement restrained, slow, fearful, Sabre reached to climb the ship's wooden skin. Limbs shook as they clung in silence every time the water rippled or the wood creaked, and if the sailors hadn't been chatting amongst themselves – allowed a little time to rest before setting sail – or if Killian had been in his cabin she'd have been uncovered. There was little she could do about the gliding droplets on the cabin windows. If assumptions were true, he be at the helm, only a few yards between them as she settled on the convex roof of the cabin windows, tucked under the shadow of the poop deck.

The night air brought a little chill to her sopping clothes. She hugged her knees in close, unable to steel against the tears as they came; mouth covered, she squeezed her eyes shut hard enough to hurt, and only freed herself when sure that her own fragility would not betray her. Leaning back her eyes bled silently, Sabre listened to every word she could catch on the wind, recognised each and every voice.

Jukes was still suspicious that mermaids were around, not helping Mr Smee's fretting. Starkey was keen to get a drink back at whatever port they anchored at. Cecco was already devising plans to get what Pan had requested with Mullins. And most of them just wished to leave Neverland as quickly as the Jolly Roger could take them. Not that she blamed them.

She clutched her thighs closer, gulping down the lump in her throat. The tears were hot where the ocean was cool. Closing her eyes, she kept on listening as she'd done all the days in the brief life of the cabin boy, and dreaming what might have been, if only the story had been told differently. If only she'd stayed on the ship.

So deep and distant, Sabre couldn't be sure if she'd drifted to sleep or not when orders were bellowed across the deck, startling her at the cost of her dignity. The sailors clamoured, footfalls like thunder as they readied the ship to sail, and it was time to go.

Like a child who'd fallen and scraped their knees bloody, Sabre's face creased up uncontrollably as her chin trembled furiously; one blink and a tear from each eye spilled over. She gulped down the sob that clawed up her throat. Would anyone have known if she stowed away?

Her misery thrashed in its cage and she shuffled to the edge of the window roof and looked up over her shoulder. "Bye," she whispered, torn voice crumbling into a sound too broken for a sob, and dove into the sea.

If any of the pirates heard she was too deep below to ever know. The blackened sea brought her back, intangible arms carrying her on even as she only wanted to stop, forsake her burdens and sink to the ocean floor, return to the water as those before her had done.

The lantern was all that was waiting as she dragged herself from the waves, and in her heart, Sabre knew there'd be nothing but the dark horizon at her back. But, still, she looked back.

Nothing would ever stop her from looking back.

Please leave a review, comments are much appreciated! Thank you for reading :)

Remember 'Angel Fell' will be published on December 7th so keep an eye out for it!