Author's Note: A drabble (?) inspired by Pan's Labyrinth and my uncanny trait of attaching myself to the most repulsive of characters and trying to figure out why made them that way. That Captain (played masterfully by Sergi Lopez) is one of the most real villains I have ever seen captured on film and I've seen a lot of movies. He had moments of cruelty that made you afraid of him, but he seemed so…trapped. Anyways, read, enjoy and know there may possibly be more stories inspired by this movie.


Disclaimer: "If we shadows have offended, think but this and all is mended,
That you did but slumber'd here while these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme is no more yielding then a dream."
-Midsummer's Night Dream

"Tell my son the time his father died. Tell him…"

-No, he won't even know your name.

The Boy

By: Lady Erised

The child goes up into the mountain to be alone and to think, and they let him because he is such a quiet boy. From time to time, he smiles yes but it's a dark, quiet smile that looks like he's mocking himself when he smiles. He likes to sing though, and does it when he's alone and thinks Mercedes isn't listening. He dances sometimes with shadows that only he sees. Pedro has taken to call him the spoilt dandy, because he primps and is such a gentle child.

He's eight now, and such a serious boy. Not given at all to fancy. Mercedes had thought early on to tell him the stories from his sister's books because she had loved him so and died to protect him. But the boy had fixed her with those grim eyes he takes from the dead and looked away. Mercedes shivered a little when he stared at her like that, remembering, and put the books away.

On Sundays, he sneaks away from their home and goes town to watch Franco's Army as they pass. He'll sit in Plaza watching the horses and cars pass and stare into the ocean of baby blue uniforms, searching. Pedro asked him once, in frustration, why he loved the show so much and explained to him why they should be hated. The boy had listened quietly, nodding in obedience and said nothing.

As an infant, he favored his mother but as he grows Mercedes sees the better parts of him shake off like autumn leaves. He'll look like his father. He looks like him now: with those piercing eyes, strong jaw, hair as black as ink. The seriousness in his face, gravity in his voice when he chooses to speak; all of them scare her even though she doesn't show it. She just waits. Knowing.

He's wonderful of course. Loving in his own way and dedicated to the family, even to the Cause. He ran errands for the guerillas several times, stole from Nationalist shipments and even guarded a captured soldier once, all because Pedro told him too. He never questioned them, or seemed afraid.

He's such an obedient child.

He never asks about his family. He knows he's named after a doctor friend of theirs that died before he was born. Mercedes told him about his sister, and his mother. He listened and nodded but never pressed for retellings or details. And even though she knows he wants to, he never asked about his father. Early on, they had told him he was Pedro's son, from a love affair long ago. He had told them simply that it was a lie and never spoke of it again.

He wonders but does not ask.

Instead he sits in the mountains, on that perch overlooking the old ruins of the Mill that long since burnt down and was abandoned, and stares at the Labyrinth's mouth. Watching.

Speaking to shadows that no one sees but he.

And Mercedes waits, knowing. It's only a matter of time.

She can feel it ticking away…