Author's Note: As always, thank you for all of the very kind words. This chapter is from the POVs of David, Hook and Rumple.
Please remember that this is an ensemble piece meant to expand and speak to the complicated relationships shared by the six involved.
Warnings: salty language, violence, some potentially suicidal thoughts and maaaagic. Oh and Rumple and Regina's wacky/twisted history on display.
When the former queen's leather clad knees hit the sand with a heavy wet thud that seems to somehow echo like a gunshot through the salty air, David Nolan becomes aware of exactly two things at exactly the same time: his grandson is screaming for his adoptive mother, and his wife is doing the same.
He thinks of the conversation that he'd had with Gold back on the boat, and he realizes that finally, after all this time, this is really the chance that he's been waiting for. For so very long now, he's wanted Regina to be out of the picture, and far away from the people that he cares the most about.
It's not necessarily that he's wanted her dead; he likes to think that's he not a cruel or malicious man, but for all the things that she's done to his family and all the things that she could do again, he's wanted her gone.
Not dead. Just…gone.
But that's not what Snow wants.
Or Henry.
Or Emma.
The first two don't really shock him; Henry was raised by Regina and in spite of whatever mistakes she might have made along the way (and really, even David understands that he is the very last person to talk about parenting issues), she loves her son desperately. That she – a former queen – is down on her knees now in front of Greg, her head bowed in a show of humbled surrender as she waits for him to kill her, well that's proof of such for sure.
As for Snow, David knows that she will always crave a chance of redemption and reunion with her former stepmother. She will always want forgiveness.
But Emma? Well if anyone has reason to wish Regina dead, it's his not-as- close-to-him-as-she-should-be blonde haired daughter. Not that he and Snow don't carry some of the blame for how Emma had grown up, but none of that would have happened at all without Regina's unrelenting vengeance.
If the former queen could have just let her anger go (deep down, he knows that it's much more complicated than that, but he struggles to allow himself to dwell too much on these thoughts because he's not sure what exists on the other side of them in regards to culpability and blame), maybe so much would have turned out better for everyone. Then again, if Regina hadn't done what she had done, then perhaps Henry wouldn't exist. He ponders the tradeoff and wonders if getting to see his grandson grow up is worth all of the years of not getting to see Emma in her mothers' court.
He's fairly sure that it's not, but he's equally sure that what's done is done.
In any case, Emma doesn't seem to give a damn about any of that. She's never once – that's he heard, anyway - voiced anger towards Regina in regards to how she'd grown up. Their issues appear to be more complicated than that, and when David realizes this, he almost laughs because how could anything possibly be complicated than losing your childhood to a curse?
It hardly matters, though, because for whatever reason, Emma is fighting for Regina's life once again. He can see the way her fingers are moving, as if to draw magic up into them. He wonders absently if this need to save Regina is all because it's just who Emma is to try to help people or if perhaps there's more to it than that. Perhaps, in spite of everything, Emma actually cares for Regina. Perhaps Gold was right about them being connected in some way.
This realization baffles David, but he shoves it into the back of his mind with almost brutal force because Greg is stepping towards Regina's fallen form, his gun extended towards her. Regina's life is down to seconds now, the former prince knows, and there is no time for doubts or second-guessing.
He either helps to save Regina or he stands back and he lets her die.
How much more will she be allowed to hurt his family?
How much will her dying hurt his family?
His eyes sweep down to Regina – so humbled and broken – kneeled down on the cold wet sand. He's never seen her bowed liked this; he's never seen her so truly shattered. The sight curdles his stomach in an unexpected way.
This isn't the Evil Queen that he'd wanted to execute thirty years ago, and this isn't even the furiously angry women that he'd considered imprisoning in Rumplestiltskin's cage or abandoning in Storybrooke just a few days ago; no, this is just a mother who is willing to do anything to save her child.
Again.
Back on the Jolly Roger, Gold had warned him that he might have to make the hard decision in regards to Regina's fate because perhaps Snow wouldn't be able to; she'd be too compromised by her feelings for her former stepmother, the shopkeeper had insinuated. Letting Regina die, well that would be better for everyone, the little imp had straight up told him.
Perhaps not everyone, David realizes with a cold start as he hears his grandson scream for one mother to save the other one. He feels Snow's hand slide into his, and his other reaches for the sword at his side.
"Can you?" he whispers into Emma's ear, his voice soft.
That the words spill from his lips almost without permission is only slightly surprising to him. The simple truth is that there's absolutely nothing that he won't do for his family, and though he's not truly convinced that this is the right choice to make, Snow doesn't need him making decisions for her, and he's pretty damned sure that she'd never forgive him if he did.
Emma jumps at the sound of his voice, and he almost apologizes but time is so terribly short now, and so instead he simply listens for her response.
"Can I what?" she asks, still wriggling her fingers. He can see the frustration in the hard set of her jaw; she's struggling to find the magic. She's new to this, and has no real understanding of what she's doing, but she's trying.
"Can you make…magic?"
His blue eyes track over to Regina again – not that they've ever really left her – and he sees Greg force Regina to look at him by pushing the barrel of his gun against her forehead hard enough to leave an angry red mark there.
"It took me so long to find you," Greg tells the former queen, a cold smile on his lips. "And I thought making you scream and hurt like I did was what I wanted." He shakes his head. "But it wasn't. I just want you dead."
"Then kill me, and be done with this," she breathes. The resignation is thick in her voice and it makes David frown; even when she'd been tied to the post about to take a dozen arrows to the heart, she hadn't been like this.
Even then, she'd refused to surrender.
But then, of course, thirty years ago, eleven-year-old Henry's life hadn't been on the line. He changes everything. Including her, apparently.
"No!" Henry yells suddenly. "Don't do this! She's my mom; I need her."
"No, you don't. You have another one," Greg snaps back. "I didn't. Mine died, and then she took my father from me. She left me all alone."
"Yes," Emma murmurs, blinking rapidly, looking halfway to drugged.
For the briefest of moments, David considers grabbing her and pulling her back and away from all of this madness. Away from the magic that will surely consume her if they don't check it aggressively. Emma's already been through so much in the last few hours, day, weeks and months. Just minutes earlier, she'd been under siege mentally by a monster that even Gold is wary of, and now she's breathing hard all the while trying to make something happen that he still feels – deep in his bones – is unnatural.
Part of him wants to end this and walk away. Let Greg have his vengeance, he thinks. It would be poetic justice for all of her sins, right?
But then Henry is breaking from Emma's arms and Snow is screaming, and David understands that nothing he feels really matters. It's not about his conflicted emotions and it's not about wondering what's might have happened had Regina not been hell-bent on making someone pay for what was done to her. It's not even about what might or might not be justice.
It's quite simply about doing what he knows – deep in his heart - to be right thing because it's what his wife and his daughter and his grandson want.
"Mom!" Henry cries out as he rushes for Regina, stopping just short of his dark haired mother. She lifts her eyes up to meet her son's and David sees the tears there. He sees her shake her head and force a sad smile.
"He's right, Henry," she says, her voice trembling. "I owe him."
"No! You owe me," Henry snaps, and David thinks that he's never seen Henry so angry. He's simply a child, but in this moment, he looks like a disappointed son who wants nothing more than for his mother to fight.
To live.
David knows that he will always wonder if allowing Regina to live thirty years ago was the wrong decision, and he hopes to hell that he won't wonder about this choice as well, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he thinks maybe it's time to stop playing judge and jury with Regina's life.
Maybe it's about time to try the whole living and forgiving thing.
Maybe it's past time.
"You adopted me!" Henry screams. "You promised me that you would always be there to take care of me. You promised me." Tears streak down his face. "So either you lied to me again or..." He trails off, hiccupping.
"I'm sorry," Regina whispers, blinking fiercely. "I'm so sorry."
"Just give me an opening," David tells his daughter. Emma nods almost imperceptibly, and he sees her wiggle her hands once more, a bright sheen of purple finally and quite suddenly circling and surrounding her pale skin.
He feels Snow squeeze his hand once more, and this time it's not for comfort (either to give or to receive), but rather to show her understanding of whatever plan he's come up with. When her palm slides away from his (he immediately feels the loss of contact), he sees it disappear down to her belt, her fingers curling around the hard metal handle of her dagger.
"I don't want your apologies. I want you. You owe me," Henry says again.
"I do," Regina concurs, her eyes jumping wildly between Greg and Henry. That she doesn't even spare a glance over at Emma is definitely curious, but David thinks that maybe Regina is trying to keep an eye on her would be killer. Trying to ensure that Greg keeps the gun on her and only her. "And that means that I have to do whatever I can to protect you. I promised you that I wouldn't let you be alone, and you won't be. You'll be with Emma."
"But I won't have you," Henry retorts as tears continue to leak down his cheeks. Looking at his grandson now, it's easy for David to remember just how much that Henry, too, has been through as of late. "Don't do this, Mom. Please" What he doesn't say aloud is "fight", but everyone hears it.
"She doesn't have a choice anymore," Greg chuckles, sounding half crazed with vengeance and victory. "She already gave herself up in exchange for you, kid. A deal is a deal and she owes me her life. She owes me my life back." The words are so maddeningly young, and for a moment, David recognizes the signs of destroyed innocence in Greg's eyes. He sees anger and betrayal, and so goddamned much pain. He sees the need to hurt less.
But it never does.
David Nolan is neither Regina nor Greg, but even he knows that vengeance is a bridge to nowhere. There is no happy ending at the conclusion of the story for this boy, and despite what he's obviously telling himself, there is no moment of peace to be found, either. There's only more hatred.
More blood and more death won't make any of that better.
And Henry losing the woman who had raised him will just create another young man with a broken soul and rage in his heart.
"Killing her won't make you feel better," Snow insists. "It won't make any of this better. Trust me; I understand this vengeance think better than most people do. If you do this, it'll destroy everything good inside of you."
"You don't know me," Greg tells her, seeming to notice for the first time that he's not alone here with just Henry and Regina. Subtly, David steps in front of Emma so as to block Greg from seeing what she's doing.
"No, I don't, but I do know what it's like to lose a parent to murder," Snow informs him, her voice quiet and calm. Her eyes slide up towards Regina and they hold each other's gazes in that strange intimate way that makes David shift a bit uncomfortably, reminded again about the depth of their history together. "And I know what it's like to take the life of one as well. It doesn't square the ledger. It just destroys you inside. Don't do this."
David glances to his side to spare a look at Emma, to see how she's reacting to all of this, but a quick look at her tells him that she's just barely aware of what's occurring; instead completely focused on calling up the magic.
"Please, listen to my grandma, " Henry begs.
"Why do you care? She's the Evil Queen? She's incapable of love."
David sees the way Regina's jaw tightens in reaction to these words, but she says nothing, her eyes simply sliding towards Henry as if to convince him otherwise. She needn't have bothered; Henry knows the truth.
"She loves me," Henry declares, lifting his chin up in a show of defiance. He then steps towards Regina as if to try to touch her, but before he can get even an inch, Greg lifts his gun away from Regina and points it at Henry (he doesn't seem to notice how David and Snow tense, ready to jump into action should Greg even entertain the idea of grabbing Henry once again).
"No. You… you stay there. She gets no comfort. She doesn't deserve it."
David watches as Regina closes her eyes, her head dropping again. He wonders what she's thinking about. He remembers his own almost execution – one that she had stopped – and the feelings of crushing desperation, loss of hope, and just terrible sadness. He wonders if she's feeling those things now, and finds him surprised to realize that he hopes that she's not; he recalls enough believe that no one should feel that way.
Yes, even he knows that he's hopelessly naïve, and perhaps he needs a reality check on the cruelties of life, but he sees no value in causing others to hurt just because you are. He can't understand why people can't just seek peace where they can. Why does pain always seek company?
"You said that she loves you. All right, fine. Let's pretend that's true. Do you love her back?" Greg asks Henry, tilting his head, his eyes no longer on his prey, but rather focused completely on the child in front of him. He seems confused and uncertain for the briefest of moments.
"She does," Henry answers without hesitation. David sees the boy try to find his mother's eyes, but Regina's head is still bowed. Her shoulders are shaking, though, and there's no doubt that she's reacting to his affirmation of his feelings for her. They're the very simple words that every parent – every person alive – wants to hear. She, perhaps, more than most.
"Do you need her?" Greg challenges.
"She's my mom," Henry replies with a shrug meant to say "of course".
David can feel the sudden uptick in nervous energy – coming from both Greg and Emma. Emma's magic is increasing, and she's close to ready to do whatever she plans to do, but the anxiety is also pouring off of Greg; David sees his angry explosion coming before it does. He slides out of the way of her daughter so that he can give her as open a shot at Greg as possible.
"Well, he was my dad," Greg screams, spittle flying off his lips as his blue eyes widen maniacally. "And I needed him, too, but she took him from me! She took him from me, and she buried him in the ground so you know what, kid? I guess you'll learn to live with loss just the way I did. You'll learn."
He takes a wild and unsteady step towards Henry, and it's not at all clear what he intends to do to the boy, but it hardly matters because suddenly everyone is in motion – including Regina who lunges for him to pull him away – and then Greg is screaming like a man who just got a limb sawed off.
His face goes bright with red, and he bats at Regina to push her off of him (she's got her arms around his legs so as to hold him), swinging his gun towards her face. When it strikes her cheekbone with a terrible wet thwack, he almost seems surprised. And a bit horrified at all of the blood that spurts out as she crumbles to the sand, her eyes rolling back into her head.
Greg's wild intensely frightened eyes say it all to David: this hadn't been his plan. He'd intended to execute Regina, and then be done with it all. What might have come after that hadn't been a consideration, because much as Regina had failed to see anything beyond Snow for so many years, Greg has been breathing Regina since the day he was separated from his father. He doesn't know what to make of an injured woman and a frightened child, and people who would fight for her even when they maybe they shouldn't.
"Now," David tells Emma. "Whatever you have."
Emma nods, and then suddenly all of the purple magic is just flowing out of her hands, surging towards Greg and slamming right into his chest.
He collapses to the sand, whimpering. When the magic stops, he looks up at Emma, eyes wide in disbelief. And then he crawls his way over to Regina and drapes his body over hers. "She owes me," he whispers, and yet for the first time, there's no anger in his tone, just childish sadness and devastation.
"We need to get to her," Emma says. "He might have broken her jaw."
"Right," David replies. He steps forward and pulls Greg away from Regina, forcibly yanking him up and then onto the sand a few feet away. "Stop," he growls as Greg struggles against his tight hold. "Enough; it's over."
"It's not over until she's dead. I want her dead. She needs to die." He's shaking, his face contorting into an ugly mess of hurt and heartbreak.
"Well then, you're going to have to wait a few years," David tells him as he reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket and extracts a pair of stainless steel cuffs. That he has no idea where the key to this set is is completely beside the point; he's just suddenly glad for the foresight he'd had when he'd placed them in there. "Because she's not dying today. No one else is."
"She deserves to die," Greg insists once more.
"She deserves to pay," David answers as he snaps the cuffs on. "And I think you more than accomplished that with that electrocution stunt you pulled."
"There's will never be enough payback for her. Except for death." Greg insists petulantly. He continues to struggle against David as she speaks.
"Her death won't bring your father back," Snow says, kneeling down beside the two of them. Her face is soft and compassionate, and David feels a surge of jealousy – small, but there just the same – at the fact that Snow can always find a way to try to show kindness towards those who ill deserve it.
"It's not fair," Greg whimpers.
"No, it's not," Snow confirms. "But killing Henry's mother won't make it more fair. She's not who she was thirty years ago."
"I don't care."
David frowns, his mind a whirling mess. He looks over his shoulder, his eyes settling on the sight of Emma and Henry bent down over Regina's unconscious form. They've turned her over, and David can see the long jagged cut on her face, blood seeping down the brunette's ashen cheeks.
He thinks again about being judge and jury. Before, it'd been about condemning Regina to death. Now, it's about whether or not he – or anyone here – has the right to stop Greg Mendell from collecting on his pain.
Regina had taken something from him, and ruined his life. Do they have the right to deem Regina immune to his vengeance because they believe that she's changed and is worthy of a second, third, fourth or fifth chance?
Is this justice for Greg? Is protecting Regina justice?
It hardly matters, though, because he knows damned well that no one is getting past Emma or Snow at this point; for whatever reason, the two of them will recreate themselves as walls in order to protect Regina.
It infuriates David.
It mystifies him.
He thinks of finding Regina standing in the middle of the stables, mascara running down her tear-streaked cheeks. "He's gone," she'd whispered, speaking of her reanimated fiancee'. "I killed him this time. I killed him."
She'd said it over and over, as if confused and surprised to hear the words.
He hadn't said a word for the longest time, had simply stood there with her.
Until she'd whispered, "I think it's going to rain again. I should probably go see Pongo." The words had made little sense to him, so he'd simply nodded his head and stepped out of her away. And then watched while she'd exited the barn, crossed over to the car where Henry had been, hugged him tightly for a moment, and then walked away. It'd been strange even for her.
The next time they'd seen each other, two days later, she'd acted like the weirdness at the barn had never happened at all. He'd asked her how she was, and she'd stared blankly at him for a moment before replying with some caustic comment about how wonderful it was to be without her son.
That'd been the end of things until they'd partnered to bring Snow back, but even now, he can recall the shattered look on her face.
The absolute grief of loss.
And the devastation of knowing that it would never get better. All the vengeance in the world could do no better than all the King's Men could; it couldn't put her back together again, and even she had seemed to finally understand that in those brief moments of standing in the stables with him.
Now, he finds himself wondering about that woman, and this woman.
He finds himself wondering why they hell some people get hurt so badly that all they know how to do is hurt back. He doesn't understand the need to cause another pain, but he wonders who or what he would be if he did.
"It's over," David states. "And we're going home." His eyes flicker to Emma and Henry again, and he watches as Emma presses Henry's shirt to the wound on Regina's face. That she still hasn't regained consciousness is worrying, he thinks, but it looks as though Emma is handling hthings.
"I have nothing to go home to. I have no home. Tamara is dead, and you won't allow me to make her pay for what she did; I have nothing left."
"Then you start over and you make one for yourself," Snow tells him.
Greg's eyebrows shoot upwards. "And you would let me? After all of this."
"I think we all need second chances," Snow replies. "I know I do." She licks her lips, and David sees the image of her sitting on the stoop outside of Regina's mausoleum as clear as day in his head. He's guessing she can, too.
"Maybe I don't want one," he says, slumping down again.
"Well, that's too bad," David replies, pulling Greg to his feet. "Because like it or not, you're getting one. We're not leaving you here to this Pan guy."
"That's a mistake," Greg tells him, sounding so serious. "Because if you don't, I'll come after her again. I'll never stop."
David sees the way Snow closes her eyes, and he knows that she's thinking about Regina's vendetta and the pain that had been caused by it. He wonders if she's weighing everything out, but then she's shaking her head.
"I hope that's not true," she says. "Either way, you're coming home."
Greg starts to reply, but before he can, Emma shouts out in surprise, and falls backwards and away from Regina (who David notices is now sitting up – though he can't see her face), grabbing out at Henry as she does so. "What the fuck?" Emma gasps out, scampering away from the former queen.
"Emma?" David asks, stepping towards her. "What's wrong? What –"
"Stop," he hears. "Back away from the Queen." David's snaps around and he sees Hook (the speaker) and Gold standing several yards up the sand, surrounded by dissipating smoke. A moment later they both disappear in a flash of purple only to reappear next to the group a second later.
"What the hell is going on?" Emma demands.
"The Queen isn't who you think she is," Gold responds.
David's head snaps back on his neck. Such words are preposterous and absurd, and when he replies to Gold, his derision is obvious and ill hidden.
"Then who is she?"
The answer he gets is a high-pitched giggle from the former queen as she stands up, blood dripping down her face, her eyes black and glowing.
And then Regina smiles and says in a voice that isn't her own, "Hello."
He's been alive for somewhere north of three hundred years, and he's been through a whole lot of insanely crazy things along the way, but fighting back to back with his mortal enemy? Yeah, that's definitely new for him.
And yet that is exactly what's happening right at this moment in time.
They're down to only four of the Lost Ones left, and normally these kinds of odds would favor a swashbuckling Captain and the Dark One, but it's not just a bunch of teenagers that they're facing off against. It's Peter Pan, too.
Pan has always been a bit of a cheater in Hook's book. Not only is his natural form fairly incorporeal (except for a short period of time once every seven days; this is usually when he does his kidnappings, Hook had learned), but he's also a body snatcher. Which is how he gets form. And right now, he's rapidly jumping between the willing bodies of his Lost Ones, using them to gain advantage and to keep his two opponents badly off balance.
This is all a game to him. Aside from his desire for revenge against an opponent who has caused him more than a few headaches, Pan has no use for Hook or Rumple, and thus, the shadowy bastard sees no harm in playing with them a bit before striking. So obnoxiously sure is the Shadow of his victory that he continues making his puppets laugh as he moves between them. "Have you no more fight than this, Killian?" he taunts. "I had remembered you being more formidable. Certainly more interesting."
"You always did talk too much," Hook groans as he swings his sword towards the young man of perhaps sixteen (he could be a lot older than that; there's no way to tell how old any of these children are) coming towards his left. To his right, Rumple has another of the teens lifted up into the air and he's swinging him around with a kind of vicious glee. "As for formidable, well it seems like we've taken out most of your boys, mate."
"Most," Pan responds with another one of his obnoxiously high giggles punctuating his words. "But not all. You shouldn't have come back. You know what I'll do to you once you fall." He smiles broadly then, pulling the boy's lips into a hideous grin that could only be caused by someone who doesn't actually know what it feels like to smile. Or doesn't remember.
It's been over four hundred years since Pan has had his own body.
Once, Peter, an unwanted orphan of only fourteen year of age, had been exactly as the stories had described him to be: youthful, curious and desperately in search of the grand adventure. Unfortunately, his loneliness and his obsession with staying young (he'd always hated adults, having developed an intense hatred for the many ones that had treated him as disposable; he'd come to believe that growing older turned people into monsters and robbed them of everything that was pure) and keeping the friends that he'd brought back from other lands the same way - had warped his mind, and he'd reached out to one of Rumplestiltskin's predecessors.
That Dark One had made him a deal: in exchange for his physical body, he would have power and dominion over all of Neverland. Though he would exist as little more than a shadow, he would have control over time. He could stop it and keep everyone stuck in a state of perpetual childhood.
Unfortunately for Peter, what he'd learned quite quickly had been that many of his young companions hadn't wanted that. They'd been terrified of who he had become; frightened of this dark creature that had replaced the boy that they had once known had played with. Most of them had wanted to go home. They had wanted to leave him and return to their families.
Abandonment destroys people who are mostly whole, but it does terrible things to those who have sacrificed so much of themselves to be stronger.
If Pan had been warped before the change, the rebellion he'd faced after it had driven him almost completely insane. In a fit of rage, he'd brutally murdered all of his youthful companions. Besieged by grief and remorse, he'd called the Dark One back and tried to revoke the deal (begging the evil spirit to bring back the children that he'd killed as well).
The Dark One had laughed at him, and told him that it wasn't possible ("dead is dead, lad"), but then offered another deal instead: in exchange for his soul, he would grant Peter the ability to take over other bodies. He could use this ability to find a host that would allow him to again be whole.
Believing that the lack of soul would take away his pain (and it had), Peter had agreed to the deal. It would be the last time that he would ever go by that name. Once the deal was done – with a dramatic snap of the fingers from the Dark One - the boy who had once flown the skies with fairies had disappeared forever, and he'd been replaced by a cruel monster intent collecting and keeping those who would remind him of the boys who had left him and on finding the body that could contain his darkness.
Or so the legend goes, anyway. Hook had heard it from one of the boys he'd rescued from the island; a young man who'd been kept there for over a hundred years. The boy had joined his crew and stayed there until he'd found his true love in one of the ports. He's likely long dead now.
"Oh, I know," Hook shrugs, an impish smile covering his lips. "But you've tried before to peel my skin off, and well, here I am."
"Yes," Pan nods, and then suddenly the boy he's in jerks and goes slack for a moment as the Shadows jumps into the form of the teenager going sword to sword with Hook. It's a completely discombobulating situation for most people, but Hook's been through it a time or two before.
He knows this game, and he knows what signs to look for. He knows how to tell when someone has been taken over by Pan. Usually, it's in the victim's (or in the case of the creepily devoted Lost One's, willing host's) eyes. When Pan has control of someone, their eyes go black and seem to almost glow.
But it's also the way they hold themselves.
Like a marionette.
Pan never stays in a body long enough to really gain a comfort level over them; apparently the longer he stays within someone, the more the body breaks down around him. It actually quite physically decays. Turns out that most human bodies can't handle a parasite of such evil within them.
The boy he just left? Well his skin is an unsettling shade of gray now, and he's coughing up blood. Apparently, Pan had stayed in him too long.
"And here you are," Pan continues, the voice of the boy that he's now taken over deepening and becoming almost inhuman in sound. "Standing tall beside the man who took your woman from you. How very interesting."
The pirate lightly taps his temple with his metal hook. "Ah, but I know your tricks, don't I, lad? I remember you inside my head and the way you worked at getting at me. I know what you're at and I know what you're after."
He glances over towards Rumple, who is now taking on the final two boys. His eyes meet the imp's and they exchange a nod of understanding: Hook will handle Pan and Rumple will deal with the teenagers, and then they'll figure out just what the hell is going on down near the water.
Greg had once again used the distraction of an explosion – this time caused by Emma Swan – to steal Henry away. Only this time, the rest of the rescuing party had been right behind him. Greg won't be getting too far.
This whole mess is going to end in just a few minutes, Hook well imagines.
Still, the Captain has a pretty good idea what it feels like to be pushed into a corner. He knows about the desperation that comes with the loss of love and purpose. He'd seen the body of Greg's lover slumped over, her neck broken, and he can only imagine how frightened and angry the boy is now.
Which means that the Queen and/or her son are likely in serious danger.
"Do you now? What am I at, Killian?"
"Why do you want with the Mills boy? Is he the one you've been after?"
"Answering a question with a question. You know one of my mothers told me never to do that." He laughs then. "I killed her."
"Yes," Hook drawls. "You're quite the lovely peach, aren't you?"
"I don't think you're as clever as you think you are, Killian," Pan says as he swings his sword around. His intent is not actually to win this fight; he doesn't want his preys damaged beyond use. He likes to wear them as suits until they're destroyed, and starting out mangled tends to shorten up his time rather inconveniently. Hook had discovered this personally after Pan and his Lost Ones had kidnapped he and several members of his crew, and then proceeded to try and destroy them all from the inside. He'd even partially succeeded at that; Hook had lost two of his oldest friends that day.
Worse than that, though, had been the reality that it'd by his hand that these old friends had fallen. Pan had already taken their fragile minds, and thus it had fallen to their Captain to put their bodies to rest. And so, reluctantly, he had; to this day he can still remember the sound his sword had made as it has pierced each of their hearts. His only comfort had been the understanding that their souls had already been long gone by then.
Though it's undeniably far easier for the Shadow to take over an unconscious host due to it's inability to fight back, he far prefers the euphoria of victorious battle against the broken will of a victim. He likes to destroy minds and force his puppets to surrender their bodies to him.
That's what he'd been attempting to do to Swan.
Hook has absolutely no intention of ever allowing that to happen to him. It almost had once, and he still has nightmares about Pan scratching away inside of his mind, tapping at every little doubt, hurt and insecurity.
Milah.
Baelfire.
No. Never again.
"Are you remembering your time with me, dear Killian?" Pan asks, that gruesome smile showing again. "I think you are."
"Oh, I am," Hook confirms. "And I'm remembering how you lost me. I'm remembering how one of your own betrayed you and helped me escape."
Pan waves his hand. "A setback. I will add you to my collection."
"Perhaps him," Rumple chirps, sounding more than a little bit annoyed at this whole conversation between Hook and Pan. "But not me." And then he grins, "And I'm afraid you have no one else to jump into."
Hook turns his head, observing the gruesomely destroyed bodies of the young boys that had once been Lost Ones. He recognizes one as the young man that he'd surrendered Baelfire to so long ago. "You killed them?"
"Would you have preferred to continue playing musical chairs?"
"No," Hook admits. Though ever agreeing with Rumplestiltskin causes his skin to crawl, he knows that he would be a hypocrite to get too terribly indignant about these deaths; he'd killed his share of Lost Ones on the way out of Neverland, and he knows that he'd do it again in a minute.
Still, children are children.
And there's so much blood everywhere.
"I find this fascinating," Pan laughs as he looks at Rumple. "You fight with the pirate who stole your woman and handed your son over to me."
Hook looks over at Rumple, his body tensing. This is certainly new news to the imp, and while it's an event from three hundred years ago – and Rumple really has no room to talk about doing Baelfire wrong – Hook had no expectation that the Dark One will be reasonable about this.
"Yes, well," Rumple replies, teeth grit into a malicious smile. "I'll happily see him dead once my grandson is safe from you."
"Delicious," Pan laughs.
"Enough of this," Hook growls out, trying to get back to the task at hand. He'll deal with the threat from Rumple later. "You're at the end of the line. You've got your last body, and he's already looking a bit worse for wear."
And he is; the boy the Shadow took over is falling apart quickly thanks to the intensity of the emotions that Pan is feeling. The body is decaying in front of them, dark black blood seeping from his nose and eyes.
Pan tilts his head for a moment, and then grins. "There is another."
"Another?" Hook demands.
"Your Queen."
That makes both men snap forward.
"I can feel her…waning. She'll make a good host, don't you think?"
The interesting thing about teaming up with someone that you don't trust is that you never quite know what to expect from them. In this case, though it's a reasonably pleasant surprise considering, Hook is absolutely not anticipating the explosion of magic energy that surges forth from Rumple's hand, blasting directly into the torso of the Shadow's young host.
Unfortunately for everyone involved, Pan had been expecting the attack, and it comes a moment too late to actually trap the Shadow within his host.
Which, according to the same old legends that had told the tale of Pan's loss of innocence, is the only way to actually defeat the Shadow. The stories say that if Pan can be trapped inside the body of one of his hosts as it dies, well then he'll go with it, and Neverland will then finally be free.
Far easier said than done, unfortunately. After four hundred years, Pan has developed quite the sixth sense, and he knows when to abandon ship.
Hook watches as a dark swirl of smoke seeps up into the air and then, like leaves carried on the wind, rushes down the beach, away from the two men.
"He's going after Regina," Hook announces. "Can he actually take her?"
"If she's unconscious, yes absolutely," Rumple confirms.
"And if she's not?"
"The Queen is at her lowest point," the imp states with a careless shrug.
"Well you might not have a problem with letting her be taken by him, but I do," Hook growls. "No one deserves that little bastard in their mind."
"Regina deserves quite a bit," Rumple counters, his tone malicious.
"So do we," Hook challenges. "You made her into this."
"And you helped make me into this," Rumple reminds him.
"Then there's enough hate between all three of us to go around, but need I remind you that if the Shadow takes the Queen, he'll have full access to her magic, and her body just might be strong enough to make him whole."
"No, you needn't," Rumple allows, a strange look passing through his eyes; like maybe he knows something. He waves his hand around, and suddenly Hook feels smoke crawling up his body. Magic. It's cold and dry, and it makes him vaguely feel like vomiting, but just as he's thinking these things, it's over and he's standing in the middle of the sand, Rumple at his side.
Then he sees the Queen. She's flat on her back with Swan and the Mills boy bent down over her. Even from this distance, they can see that Swan is pressing some kind of cloth against Regina's jaw.
"She's hurt," Hook observes.
"No, she's unconscious," Rumple corrects. "And we're too late."
They watch as Regina suddenly jerks upwards, into the sitting position. A moment later, Swan is falling backwards, pulling the boy with her.
They hear Emma say, "What the fuck?" David steps towards her, towards Regina, and both men see the bizarre way that Regina turns her head to watch. Like one of those creepy puppets that sits on a ventriloquist's knee.
Feeling panic surge through him, Hook yells down the beach. "Stop. Back away from the Queen." He looks at Rumple and in a lower voice adds on, "We need to be down there. Do that thing." He twirls his hook in the air.
He's pretty sure that Rumple rolls his eyes at him before he again waves his hand, and that smoke is once more covering both of them.
When they reappear, they're right next to the group standing by the water.
Which allows Hook to see the way Regina's eyes are glowing. If he'd had any doubts before about her being possessed, they're gone now.
"What the hell is going on?" Swan snaps at them.
"The Queen isn't who you think she is," Rumple answers, peering down at Regina with what looks to Hook like the cruelest of curiosity.
"Then who is she?" David demands.
The answer they get comes in the form of the Queen awkwardly rising to her feet and letting out a painfully high-pitched giggle. There's bright red blood rushing down her face, and it increases in intensity when she forces his face into a hideously plastic smile and says in Pan's voice, "Hello."
"Jesus fuck," Swan whispers, her eyes as big as saucers.
"Quite," the Captain responds gravely. "Folks, if you haven't had the displeasure, let me introduce you to the boy formerly known as Peter Pan." He thrusts his hook towards Regina. "And now that we have all met, we need to get her out of there before he destroys her mind and soul."
"What?" Henry demands, and for a moment, the strangest look of absolute exasperation and almost hysteria passes over the boy's features.
"It'll be okay," Swan assures him. Hook sees her swing her head towards her parents, a look he can only describe as fear being shared between them.
"No, dear, I'm afraid it won't be," Pan says, and suddenly he sounds more like Regina than he does the Shadow. "But don't worry my sweet boy; no matter what happens here, I'll always protect you. You know that."
"Mom?"
"That's not your mother, Henry," Rumple tells him, his eyes narrowing.
"Oh, but I am her and she is me."
"Not how it works," Hook snaps back. "Regina's sound asleep right now, and you're running the show all by yourself."
"Henry, it's me. You know me," she soothes in a voice that's entirely too sticky to actually be authentic. "I'm your mother. Come here." She swings out a hand to him, wiggling her fingers in a gesture meant to be inviting.
Before Henry can even consider what he might or might not do, Snow is reaching out for her grandson. Hook watches with a breath of relief as the former schoolteacher pulls the boy in close, her arms wrapping around him.
And then her prince steps in front of her, his sword out in front of him.
While Hook doubts that Snow White actually needs Prince Charming to protect her, he imagines that the woman is glad that he's there, anyway, simply so that she can concentrate on keeping Henry safe and in her arms.
Hook knows enough about the boy by now to know that he's not exactly good at doing what he's told to do. Or staying where's he supposed to.
The way he's straining against his grandmother, as if he's trying to get to Regina, well that explains exactly why the Prince is creating a wall with his body. Hook has no doubt that if David could get Swan behind it, he would.
But Swan isn't really that kind of woman.
Her eyes are on Regina's and she's staring right at the woman, as if trying to see down into her. As if trying to find the Queen somewhere in there.
It's a waste of time and effort, though; the Shadow had taken Regina over while she'd been out cold, likely knocked out from whatever had caused the ugly wound on her face. Typically, as Hook is all too aware, once Pan has control of a host, he only relinquishes it so as to jump into a different body.
"She's not there," Hook says softly. "Not aware, anyway."
"But she is in there, right?" Swan presses. Hook sees her eyes scramble for a brief moment over towards where Mendell is sitting, the man's hands cuffed behind his back. He's watching everything with wide frightened eyes, and it doesn't take much to realize that he's not a threat right now.
"She is," the Captain confirms, his tone grim. "Though how far down she is under the veil, well, unfortunately, that's hard to say exactly."
Swan's eyes jump away again, back towards Regina. "Then what do we do?"
"Oh there's nothing to do, my dear Sheriff Swan," Pan laughs, assuming his own voice once again when he continues. "You know, I'd always thought that the boy would be the one I'd want, but it turns out that the Queen is the one I've been looking for." He taps Regina's chest. "She's so strong."
And then as if to show just how powerful Regina truly is, he thrusts out her hands and throws a bright purple blast of magical power right towards Greg. It slams into his chest, and goes down, knocked cold. Only the unsteady rise and fall of his chest confirm that the man still lives.
"I thought she was on low power," Emma hisses towards Rumple.
"She is. He's draining from her life force now," Rumple answers with a frown. "And if he keeps doing that, he'll consume her within minutes."
"Oh, yes," Pan agrees. "But unlike most hosts that I drain down, I suspect that her body will hold me even after her soul has died." He flexes her hands, and then throws another burst of energy, this one towards the group. Rumple deflects it back towards the moon-lit water with a somewhat casual wave of his hand, but the bite of his teeth shows the lie; apparently what Pan is throwing at them is more than just casual energy. Apparently, he's using Regina's unconscious body as a lethal weapon meant to kill.
"No!" Henry shouts from somewhere behind David. "No!"
"Gold," Swan growls as she narrowly jumps another burst of dark purple magic. It's growing denser, becoming almost black, Hook notices.
The imp shrugs his shoulders as he effortlessly throws up a shield around them and holds it in place while the Shadow uses Regina's life force imbued magic to batter at it. "I'm afraid that getting Pan here out of the Queen now that he's tasted her is going to be damned near impossible.
"So there's nothing we can do?" Emma challenges. "I don't believe that."
"He said damned near impossible," Hook notes. "But not impossible. There is a way, isn't there?" His eyebrow lifts up and he stares right at Rumple.
"Why is that you care exactly?" the imp presses.
"I already told you why," the Captain retorts. "No one – not even Regina - deserves this kind of torture." He angrily gestures back towards Henry with his hook. "And we sure as hell didn't come all the way here to rescue Bae's boy only to leave one of his mothers behind."
"What torture?" Rumple challenges with a loud laugh that causes Hook's skin to crawl. "Regina's unconscious; the Shadow hardly needs to fight her mind for possession of her body. It can just take it as it will."
"He's killing her and you know it," Hook replies. "You're just too much of a coward to do what has to be done to stop this."
"If I recall, you didn't have a problem with leaving the Queen to her fate not too long ago," Rumple retorts. And it's true, but not the same thing at all.
"Enough, Gold; we're not leaving here without Regina so enough with your little power games," the blonde snaps, her hands clenching into tight furious fists. For a moment, Hook wonders if Swan might actually punch the imp. "Just tell me what I have to do and let's get this over with"."
"You don't listen very well, do you, Savior?" Pan taunts, using Regina's voice again. "There's absolutely nothing that you can do. She's gone."
Aside from her jaw tightening in reaction to his discomforting words, Emma ignores Pan, focusing instead completely on Rumple. "Tell me."
"She has to go into the Queen's mind doesn't she?" Hook asks, his eyes on Rumple. "She has to go and pull her out of what he's doing to her."
"Wait, you mean she did with me back at the campsite?" Emma queries, frowning. Her eyes snap to Rumple's, and the Dark One stares back at her with what Hook can only describe as blatant disinterest.
"Indeed," Rumple answers.
"Then I'll do it," Emma states. "I'll go in and get her out."
"You know how to mind walk, do you, dearie?" Rumple challenges. When she doesn't reply, he nods his head sharply. "No, I didn't think so."
Emma swallows, and then quietly, "Can you teach me?"
"No," Pan giggles out before sending another blast at the group that Rumple just does manager to deflect away.
"No," Rumple confirms. "Not before Regina's dead."
"But you can," Snow states, stepping out from behind David. Henry remains where he was (albeit reluctantly, held in place by one of the Prince's hand.
"Yes. But I'm not sure she'd accept the assistance," Rumple states. He grimaces again at another burst of energy slams against his shield.
"Then make her accept it," Emma snaps. "You owe her. You owe me, and you sure as hell owe Neal."
"Do I now?" Rumple challenges with a smirk. "And how's that?"
"Because I know," Emma says, meeting his eyes in a way that Hook has seen very few people do – and survive. "I saw what she saw in your mind. I know what you were planning to do back in Storybrooke. I know."
"Know what?" David demands, his whole body tensing as he watches the exchange between the Dark One and his daughter.
But if there are any other two people in the world besides Emma and Rumple, they're unaware of it, completely stuck in their own war.
"You came with us to do right by your son. Saving his mother – the person you destroyed to get to him – that's the right thing," Emma says.
"I owe her nothing," he sneers.
"Please," Henry says from behind David, reminding everyone that the young boy is seeing this whole insanity go down. It's easy to forget about everything besides the standoff and the fact that Pan is blasting away at Rumple's shields with the Queen's magic. That is until the entire reason that they're on this piece of land is begging for something to be done.
He's begging for his mother's life.
Rumple looks back at him and sighs, his face contorting into a frown that frankly unsettles Hook. "Fine." He looks at Emma. "But if I'm in there, I can't keep this shield up. It's time to see how strong you are, Miss Swan."
"Strong enough," she says, squaring her shoulders and continuing to stare right back at him. "Magic is emotion, right?"
"It is."
"Well I've got plenty of that going on right now, so you do what you have to do and so will I." Her vibrant green eyes flicker over to her parents and then over to Hook. "I'll throw up the shield, but you guys need to be on guard; if he gets through me, and with Gold inside, it'll be up to you."
"We got this," David assures her. His lips are set into a hard line that tells Hook that he's not too pleased at what they're doing, but knows that perhaps there is no other option. And that's true; if Pan takes Regina over permanently, and destroys her soul, they'll stand no chance against him.
Saving the Queen isn't just about saving her; it's about saving them all.
"Don't worry," Hook chimes in. "Do your thing, love." He hears a burst of cold laughter come from Regina, but chooses to ignore it; Pan is trying to throw them off balance for sure. He likely knows that they're planning some kind of rescue of the Queen (and considering the recent mental intrusion by Regina into Pan's attempt to take Swan, he probably has a good idea what they intend to do as well) and wants to stop it before their attempts can threaten the hold he has on the vessel he's been seeking for so very long.
Emma nods at Hook, and then looks at Rumple's, her eyes firing with intensity and determination. "Get him the hell out of her head," she says.
"If it's not too late," he counters.
"It's not," Emma insists, and then with almost surprising ease (Hook thinks he hears Snow gasp when she sees what her daughter can do) Swan lifts up her hands and throws up a blast of bright white magic to match the one Rumple already has in place to protect the group.
Hook looks straight ahead and watches as his two oldest enemies – Pan (care of Regina's body) and Rumplestiltskin stare at each other, a cold smile covering both of their lips in a way that seems uncomfortably familiar.
Rumplestiltskin knows where this is going before Hook even turns to stare at him, his blue eyes intense with that obnoxious smugness that has always been part of the pirate. That Rumple would like little more than to strike the man dead – especially after learning about his betrayal of Bae – is something that he has to force down. This is a truce, he reminds himself.
At least for now.
Once Henry is safe and away from this island, well then all bets are off.
"She has to go into the Queen's mind doesn't she?" Hook suggests. "She has to go and pull her out of what he's doing to her."
Rumple nods his head, but says nothing else.
"Like she did with me back at the campsite," Emma suggests. And now she's the one looking right at Rumple. He stares back at her, trying to impress upon her terribly uninterested in assisting her he is.
Even if he knows that he will do so anyway. It's inevitable, really.
"Indeed," he says finally.
"Then I'll do it," Emma states, her shoulders squaring. Frankly, as annoyed as Rumple is with her arrogant presumptuousness, he's also impressed.
She'd make an excellent student. So full of emotion. So full of power.
Not that he imagines that the Prince or his wife would allow such. Then again, he knows that Snow had asked Regina to teach Emma and…
Ridiculous thoughts.
Should he survive this expedition – and he's not terribly sure still that he will; the prophecy had stated that Henry would be his undoing, and well, he's still waiting for that to occur – he's fairly certain that the only goal left in his mind is to get back to Belle, and try to do right by her.
Assuming that's even possible.
She's a sweet woman with a beautiful heart, but perhaps time and space away from him will show her the wisdom of separation. Perhaps it will show her that he's the last man she should be with. Deep down, he knows that he'd deserve no better than for her to turn her back on him.
And yet he hopes that she never will.
He wipes his thoughts of her, and concentrates on the now.
Pan is still throwing energy blasts at the shield he has up, and using the fullness of Regina's very powerful magic, it's becoming harder and harder to keep him out. Eventually, she'll break through if they don't stop her.
"I'll go in and get her out," Emma continues, still staring right at him.
"You know how to mind walk, do you, dearie?" Rumple laughs. After a moment of silence from the girl, he says, "No, I didn't think so."
"Can you teach me?"
"No," Pan giggles. The sound is enough to make Rumple want to strangle him, even if doing so would mean killing Regina. Then again, aside from that not actually being a problem for him, it might actually fix this whole mess.
Not that Emma would ever allow him to do it.
He almost wants to laugh at the idea that the blonde could stop him.
"No," Rumple sighs. "Not before Regina's dead."
"But you can," Snow states, stepping towards them. Her face is set into that look that Rumple has come to identify more as the would-be-Queen from the old world than as the schoolteacher from Storybrooke; this one is strong and determined, fierce in her way of thinking and her feelings.
That she still feels so much for her former stepmother after all this time is, well, truly baffling for the Dark One; he would have thought that bond long dead. But then again, perhaps some connections even badly frayed don't ever truly break. He'd believed that true and possible with Bae.
Until he'd been told of his son's death.
Until he'd been told that nothing he'd done – all of the things he'd done – had amounted to absolutely nothing. He'd lost his son through cowardice once, found him through perversion of another soul, and then lost him once again through the fear and uncertainty that had raged within him.
Now, all that's left is this; finding a way to save Bae's child because doing so is the only way he can try to prove himself worthy of his deceased boy.
It'll never be enough.
"Yes. But I'm not sure she'd accept the assistance," Rumple replies with a shrug. He feels another burst splash against him, this one hot and painful. It's clear to him that the Shadow is digging deep into Regina's body, yanking out every bit of energy she has. He's honestly not sure that even he gets her to eject Pan from her body that she'll have the strength to survive this. Then again, if anyone could, it's the Queen. He'd have thought her dead a hundred times over by her own hand by now, and yet she survives.
"Then make her accept it," Emma growls out before challenging him once more. "You owe her. You owe me, and you sure as hell owe Neal."
He wonders if she knows just how close she is to him killing her; he wonders if she has a clue just how easy it would be for him to strike her dead.
"Do I now? And how's that?"
"Because I know," Emma replies, still so strong. "I saw what she saw in your mind. I know what you were planning to do back in Storybrooke. I know."
Vaguely, Rumple hears David asks for clarification, but all he sees is the blonde sheriff staring at him, and in that moment he knows that she does know exactly what he'd intended to do to Henry. Regina had been in his own mind earlier in the night, and apparently after he'd returned the favor, he'd broken down her mental walls enough for her to share thoughts with Emma. He wonders idly if Regina had even really know what she'd seen.
Considering her lack of warning or threat to him back in the cave, he's guessing no. Not that he's scared of her – or Emma – but well it's a dirty bit of shame that he'd rather have kept to himself.
When Emma speaks again, her voice is softer, almost conciliatory, and he thinks maybe she's a better politician than she ever would have given herself credit; she's placating him and trying to convince him to work with them. She's not resorting to threats, but rather to gentle pleading.
"You came with us to do right by your son. Saving his mother – the person you destroyed to get to him – that's the right thing," Emma says.
On the other hand, perhaps that's not her best way to go.
"I owe her nothing," he retorts, thinking of the basement of his castle and a young girl with so much heart in her heart. And then he thinks of a woman without a heart, and a girl locked away in a cell and then an asylum. He thinks of centuries of loss and anger, and he thinks of a broken contract.
But then the boy changes everything.
As children always do.
"Please," Henry says, his voice so soft. Rumple feels his heart – for it still does beat within him – seize just a bit at the thought of this child losing another parent. It's an odd and unsettling for him simply because his feelings for Regina are so complicated and dark, and yet this boy means something. He shouldn't because he surely will be the end of him.
And yet he looks so very much like Bae did when he was his age.
He laughs like him.
But for just a moment of hearing Bae beg him for anything ever again, Rumple would do just about anything. He has done just about anything.
"Fine," Rumple says. He looks over at Emma. "But if I'm in there, I can't keep this shield up. It's time to see how strong you are, Miss Swan."
"Strong enough. Magic is emotion, right?"
"It is," he nods, once again thinking about what an excellent student she'd make, and once again knowing he'll never have the chance at it.
"Well I've got plenty of that going on right now, so you do what you have to do and so will I," Emma tells him with that confidence that has always made him grit his teeth. "I'll throw up the shield, but you guys need to be on guard; if he gets through me, and with Gold inside, it'll be up to you."
"We got this," David assures her just before Hook does the same thing.
"Get him out of her," Emma says to him.
"If it's not too late," he shoots back, simply because it's that or light her on fire. It galls him to no end – and impresses him – how unafraid she is of him.
"It's not," Emma states with absolute certainty as she throws up a shield. It's not nearly as strong as his own is, and it won't last long if he fails to get Regina to fight back, but hopefully, it won't have to.
He draws down his own shield, takes one last look over at Henry to remind himself why he's doing this, and then stares directly at Regina.
And into her eyes.
He feels the way his body goes weightless, and the way everything of physical substance just seems to sweep away. There's darkness, then.
Everywhere.
Black, oppressive, cloying and damning. Cold and desolate.
"How very dramatic," he drawls, finding her finally. She's coated by shadows, the expression on her face one of fear and confusion.
"Where am I?" she asks.
"You know," he replies.
"Get out," she demands, and he thinks she sounds panicked and afraid. A part of him thrills at this, but another realizes that this will just make her job all the harder. Whether he wants to or not, he has to succeed here.
"I'm afraid I can't do that just yet, dearie," Rumple chuckles. "He motions around. "Seems your suicidal tendencies finally caught up with you."
"I'm not suicidal."
"No? Because it seems like you've been doing your best to die lately."
"And what do you care of that? You've been trying to kill me for decades."
"Mostly only as of late," he admits. "And besides, you've been rather stubborn about actually letting me do it. Until recently."
"Again, why do you care?" she demands, stepping out of the shadows and towards him enough for him to see how weak she appears to be.
"I don't, but your boy does. And his mother does. And her mother does."
"And what do you get out of…helping me? And don't say anything; there's always been something in it for you," Regina retorts.
He remembers why she was both his best and his worst student.
Her magical aptitude is beyond compare, and the rage bottled in her hot and vibrant was always a wonderful way to manipulate him towards his purposes. That same fury, though, has made her angry and suspicious.
It's made her wary.
All good things, he muses, when dealing with a Dark One, but not helpful when time is short and he knows that Pan is consuming more and more of life force by the moment. He can see it, too, even if Regina can't.
She's standing across from him, and every now and again, she almost seems to blink. She grows almost fuzzy and see-through.
She's dying and she doesn't yet realize it.
It would be so damned easy to just leave her to this, he thinks. It would be so very simple to just step back out of her polluted mind, and try to trap Pan within her damaged body. End the creature and the Queen all in one go. And sure, the sheriff might be righteously angry, and Henry might be hurt, but after that, what fool would dare mourn the Evil Queen?
Who would even want to?
But then there's Bae who he'll never see again and Belle who for reasons that he'll never understand actually believes that is something good inside of him. And yes, perhaps there's also Regina and the girl that she once was.
He feels no guilt, he reminds herself. She made her own choices.
But then so has he.
And he won't apologize for them. And this isn't an apology.
This is doing something for Bae and for Henry and for Belle.
This is doing what they would want him to do.
It's not an apology because he doesn't owe the Queen one.
He never will.
But for them, he'll do anything.
Even apologize even if it's not an apology.
"He's killing you," Rumple sighs.
"Who?"
"Pan. He's in you, Regina."
She blinks and he sees it; he sees the horror and fear streak across her face, painting her features in a way that reminds him of Milah entirely too much.
She's terrified, he realizes with a bit of surprise; she might actually be just a little bit suicidal; she might have even prayed for the end of things – anything to stop her from hurting and breaking over and over again - but not like this. Not at the hands of a creature trying to consume her soul.
He thinks of the wraith and the fear in Regina's eyes when he'd told her about it. He thinks of fates worse than death. He thinks of a tear in a bottle.
He sees her hand go to her chest, and it's a slightly absurd action considering that she's more spiritual than real here, but he understands it all the same; she's feeling her heart, ensuring that it's still beating within her.
"You're alive," he says quietly. "For now at least."
"And you came in to get me out? Why?"
"It was me or the Sheriff and I was pretty sure she'd lobotomize you."
"Which brings us back to why you care. What are you getting out of this?"
"I don't actually care," he says in a tone that he hopes she reads as disinterested. "But I also I don't much care for having to fight the Shadow in your body, either. And that's what he plans to do, dearie. Once he consumes your soul, and ejects what's left of you from your corpse, he'll wear you like his own skin, and he'll use your magic to murder your son."
"No!"
Rumple simply stares back at her.
"No," she says softer, shaking.
"Then I suppose for the first time in your life, Regina, perhaps you should fight back instead of just being used," Gold challenges.
"I have been fighting," she retorts, her face coloring bright red. "That's all I ever do. That's all I've ever done, and where has it brought me?"
"To a second chance you ill deserve, but you've been given anyway."
Her head lifts. "Who are you to condemn me? And who are you to talk to me about being used when that's all you ever did to me?"
"Are you blaming me for your sins again?" he asks, sounding like he's mocking her. It's just for effect, though. He's trying to piss her off because even though anger has brought her to her lowest places, it has also given her the strength to fight, and she needs that right now.
They all do.
She glares at him, her nostrils flaring. "You son of a bitch."
"I'll take that as a yes," he sighs. "How sad for you to always be a victim."
"I'm no one's victim," she snaps.
"Then prove it and eject this creature from your own mind," Rumple challenges. "I taught you well. You know how to do it. You need neither magic nor power to establish ownership over yourself. So do it."
Deep down, he knows that it's not as simple as this.
He better than anyone understands the games that had been played with the Queen's life; he'd been part of almost all of them. He'd intentionally warped her to his purposes, and he well understands the unfairness of demanding that she take control of something that he'd taken from her.
But it's time to let her go and it's time for her to let herself be free.
Their time together as teacher and student is long over.
And so is their time as puppet and puppeteer.
He stares at her and she at him.
Then he sees it: purple covering her. It's weak in color but damned if she isn't finally fighting back. She clearly hurts, but she's doing it.
He thinks he feels a weird sense of pride. Disgust at himself for not leaving her to this hell, but also a feeling of…well, Bae would be proud, he hopes.
"Uh uh," he hears, then, and it yanks him from his thoughts.
His head snaps around, and then he and Regina are staring at a form shrouded completely in darkness. The Shadow. Without even realizing it, he and Regina move closer to each other. Shoulder to shoulder.
"I don't think so," the Shadow says, his voice almost a shrill trill. "I'm not letting the Queen go. I like her body too much for that. It fits."
"No," Regina says simply. She closes her eyes then, and suddenly everything around them is squeezing inward. Regina always did have a strange liking for vines and weeds; something that had no doubt come from Cora.
He wonders if she even realizes it.
The invisible cords of darkness circle the Shadow, tightening around his form. He might be incorporeal, but in here, he's as real as any of them are.
And this is Regina's playground now that she's back in control. Her lips curl into an angry sneer, and her eyes blaze with bright raging purple.
"I'm going to kill you," she says stepping towards the Shadow. "But first I want to know what you wanted with my son."
"You can't kill me. I own you now."
She squeezes her hand and he howls. "My son."
"Prophecy," the Shadows whimpers, suddenly sounding like a small child.
"Explain."
"A prophecy from the Dark One –" Regina glances over at Rumple, and he shakes his head in the negative; this one isn't on him. "He told me that if I found the boy who matched the drawing that he gave me, I would be whole again. He told me the boy would bring to me what I needed. And he did."
"He's a child," she snarls. "He's my child."
"He's who I was."
"No," Regina growls. "He'll never be you." She squeezes again, and he howls in agony. It's this white-hot pain that suddenly ricochets through Regina, reminding her of the fact that all of this is occurring in her own mind. She crumbles, wincing and just barely biting back a cry of her own.
"Before you cause yourself an aneurism, perhaps we should take this outside," Gold suggests mildly, his eyes on the dark creature whimpering in the middle of the blackness that is Regina's mind. "And finish him there."
"You can't," Pan hisses. "Without a body, I'm invincible. And if you push me out of hers, you'll never get me, Dark One. Killing her is your only way."
"He wants me to kill you," Rumple says to Regina. He sees her tense and he can't help but chuckle, but on any other day, he'd consider it.
More than consider it.
But Bae and Belle and Henry.
And the belief that all three of them have that he can be more than he is.
She stares back at him.
"But not today, I think," he says. "I believe I taught you how to remove external forces from your mind, Your Majesty."
"Indeed, you did," she confirms, rising back to her feet. "You should leave now," she tells him. "It's about to get quite…ugly in here."
"Has it ever not been?"
"For a time," she replies. "And when my son is near."
It's such an honest response, and though he finds disgust within himself for what she allowed herself to become, he understands her as well. Better than she has ever wanted him to, and more than he would have liked to.
He understands the need she has for love and peace and family.
It's time for her to take back ownership.
He nods his head and thinks of sentiments like "good luck" and "I'll see you on the other side" but these aren't things that the two of them would ever share with each other; they're not friends in any way and never will be.
And on another day, he'd happily see her dead.
Just not this day.
The darkness fades away slowly, quickly and then becomes the blackness of a cool night by the ocean. It's the buzz of magical energy that brings him back to his senses and he sees Emma still standing there, bleeding from the nose as she keeps the shield in place. She looks exhausted and spent.
But she's still fighting back as well. Though Pan is deep inside Regina's mind, assuredly struggling with the Queen for ownership of her soul, he's still using her powers to try to break down Emma's defenses.
So far, he's failed.
Because she's fighting for the Queen.
Because she's fighting for her family.
He wonders if Regina is worth it.
He wonders if he'll ever be worth it.
He's not sure that it actually matters at this moment. He steps up next to Emma, and extends his hand, adding his darker colored magic to hers.
"Did it work?" she asks, lifting a hand to wipe away blood. "Were you able to get to her?" She blinks several times, but doesn't relent.
He's about to reply, about to shrug his shoulders like he doesn't care.
He's about to tell her that he'd done what he could and if it doesn't work, that's Regina's fault for not being strong enough.
But then Regina is gasping and falling backward, the magic stopping.
"Regina," Emma calls out, dropping her own shield before Rumple can stop her. It could be a trick; a way for Pan to bring down their defenses.
But then Regina breathes the one word that tells everyone that it had worked, that he had been successful and that the Queen had fought back.
"Henry," she whispers, gritting her teeth in pain.
"Mom!" the boy calls out, and there's nothing David can do to hold him as he breaks away from his grandfather, steps around his other one and surges towards the woman whom he had seemed to hate such a short time ago.
Love and hate truly are curious things, Rumple muses.
"Yes," Rumple says to Emma. "I'd say it did." His eyes are on Henry as the boy wraps his arms around his mother and tries to hug her as hard as he can. That her skin is gray and her eyes are bloodshot is lost on him. That she's so weak that she might not ever be able to stand again is as well.
He only knows that for now, he still has her.
Rumple feels the conflicting emotions – the ones he always feels for Regina – surge up in him. Anger, sadness, hatred, fascination and a bit of guilt.
He thinks of Cora and second chances.
He watches as Emma and Snow White drop down beside the Evil Queen. He sees Emma touch her shoulder, offering comfort and support. He hears Snow tell her- promise her – that everything is all right now.
He thinks of letting go.
It's time.
And suddenly he feels all of his three hundred plus years.
He thinks of Belle and final chances.
He hears a cold high laugh from somewhere nearby. He hears Hook yell out in alarm, and he feels the man – a man he's hated for so long and now can barely manage to pull together even a strong sense of dislike - tense up, as if ready to once again defend himself.
Out of the corner of his vision, he sees Greg rise up like a puppet on strings, his dull now black eyes glowing white. This is Pan's final stand.
Pan as Greg rips his hands apart and the cuffs break and bone shatters, and the man screams and races for Regina, palms out towards her.
Rumple's head turns, and though Regina – as terribly weak as she is - is crying out for him to stop and not do it, he does what has to be done.
What must be done.
Because he is sad and hurt and alone.
And he is just done with this place.
He always did fucking hate bodysnatchers.
His hands lift and he snaps it around. And then he lets everything out. The magic pours from his fingers, and he thinks maybe he's never used so much of it all once and towards just one person. He hears Hook swear. He hears David say, "Oh my God."
And then he hears the body of Greg Mendell – or what's left of it – hit the wet sand, the soul of Peter Pan trapped forever within his destroyed body.
It's over.
And it's time to go home.
He turns around and faces the rest of the group. They stare at him in shocked horror – all except for Regina and Hook. Hook matters not to him anymore, but it's Regina weary eyes that he finds and holds.
She's so pale and drawn and weak and broken and perhaps even dying slowly, but he sees the understanding there; the understanding he never wanted from her because they're not the same, and they never will be.
And he owes her nothing and never will.
But though he's loathe to admit it, Hook's right and Emma's right: they didn't come all this way for Henry to lose one of his mothers.
He tells himself these things, and perhaps, he is better than anyone else at believing the words that go through his mind. The absurdities that allow him to sleep at night and not think of three hundred years of hurt and hate.
He steps towards her kneels down towards her. He reaches for Emma's hands and though he feels her stiffen at his touch, she allows him to move them to Regina's face – a palm on each cheek. "Heal," he says.
Because whatever else he feels or doesn't feel or wants or doesn't want, he knows enough to know that of the three people who can do magic on this island, only one of them still has the chance to not be broken by it.
Only one has a chance to not lose herself to it.
He know, then – and it's a moment of clarity that he finds more unsettling than calming – that this will be the last thing he ever teaches Emma Swan.
She's not meant to follow his path or Regina's.
"Heal," he says again, his eyes sliding over towards Henry's. He sees the way the boy watches him, without fear or recrimination. Just hope.
And Bae's trusting eyes. The ones that never really had stopped believing.
Emma opens her mouth to ask him what to do, but he shakes his head.
"Magic is emotion," he reminds her, sounding suddenly very old and tired.
She nods her head, takes a deep breath and closes her eyes.
Once the glowing starts and Emma is pushing her energy into Regina's wounded body, grinning like a fool as she heals the Queen from her injuries and all things that Pan and Mendell did to her, he steps away.
He thinks of a boy and a bean and a portal.
He thinks of a prophecy uttered by a sightless woman.
He thinks of a lover and a promise and a lie and a broken heart.
He thinks of a baby girl with dark hair and dark eyes.
He thinks of a blonde woman with a badge on her hip.
He thinks of a child with curious spirit and an impish smile.
He thinks of being undone.
And he finally understands just how tricky prophecies truly are.
TBC
The final chapter will be from the POVs of Emma/Regina and Snow, and should be up in about a week or so. Thanks again for reading. You can find me on tumblr at sgtmac7.