A/N: I finally had a little time this weekend to get some fanfic done :) I hope this chapter was worth the wait! Sorry it took so long, but I hope you enjoy reading it. Reviews would be lovely :)
"Pan..."
Tinkerbell hisses as she watches the boy slither out from the shadows to stand over them. The torch light glitters feverishly in his eyes as he looks down at her, and the fairy offers him a morose glower as she pulls at her chains pointedly. Pan grins in response, eyeing the crude iron lazily.
"You brought it onto yourself, Tink."
He muses, and she flashes her teeth angrily as she looks away. Smiling at this display of distaste, the boy looks from the fairy to the Saviour and speaks up softly
"I'm surprised... Not by you, orphan, I knew you would fight, although I have to say, I am disappointed. I expected more from you... You, though, Tink! Siding with the Evil Queen and her foolish followers? That struck me as odd. You and I have had an unspoken code over the years, and it's kept you out of harm's way and in my good graces. The fact that you would throw that away over a child you don't know and his mother seems out of character. You know better than most that I am a far better ally than enemy, and yet you betrayed me... Knowing what you know... Knowing my true self... That seems a rather idiotic move on your part."
Pan finishes silkily, his lips spread out in a terrible smirk as he leans over the fairy to address her face to face. Behind him, Emma finally appears to suffer a wave of belated unhappiness at finding herself restrained, and the boy turns to study her at the dull sound of clanking chains and shakes his head.
"I expected so much more from you."
He repeats, although his words are only half true. Knowing that she has managed to get as far as she has- that she and the Queen were successful in retrieving their son- he is surprised that she would then lay down and expose her belly to his boys as she had when faced with Tobias and Felix. He had expected her to fight to the end if it were required of her, especially after Regina saw fit to abandon her once in possession of Henry. He wonders if the pain of that sly treachery has rendered the Saviour broken, but he has met others like her in his time, and he would have thought- if anything- that Regina's cruel move of leaving her to fend for herself would have the blonde all the more willing to prove herself in what might well be her final fight. He is disappointed that she has turned out to be weaker than he had anticipated.
Yes, after what happened with the pirate.
After what happened with Hook.
And there in lies the other half of the truth. At the time, he had wanted to eliminate the threat the Saviour might pose to his cause by breaking her down. He had never quite dared to hope that Hook's wishes would end in a fatality- Emma's death, or the pirate's; he would have met either with a smile- but the blonde wears her pride like armour, and he had been sure that if Hook succeeded in his attempts to satisfy the dark lust he harbours for the woman, any threat she posed would have been eradicated; turned to shock. Turned to devastation.
She and the Queen had ruined that for him.
She has failed on both counts; she has neither allowed for my game to be played, nor offers herself as a threat to be toyed with, and what with the boy now plucked from my grasp, this level of disappointment is truly vexing.
Closing his eyes, he cracks his jaw and allows his anger to escape in an audible whisper of breath through his nose, before he takes a step towards the Saviour and regards her sombrely.
"It wasn't worth it, you know... It wasn't worth fighting my boys and pushing through hell to get to where you are now. Your boy is gone, and that is a defeat felt by both you and I. You have achieved nothing... Nothing at all save for pissing me off, and for that, at least, I have a cure. You- both of you- will face execution... I hope you know that it didn't have to be that way. Not for you, orphan, and especially not for yourself, Tink. You've brought this upon yourselves. An example must be made... "
"Bullshit."
Emma growls as she glares up at Pan reproachfully, and when he raises a brow quizzically in response, she reasons
"Don't act like this isn't the way you planned for it to end. Sure, you bargained on having Henry by your side for it, but you were never going to spare us. Not Regina, and not myself. We were dead as soon as we fought back, because you're a brat. You're a spoilt, little boy who can't stand not having his way. This has nothing to do with teaching those kids you boss around anything... Things haven't gone your way and you're sore about it. That's what this is about. That's what it's always about with kids like you. You need to punch, kick, and pin others down and make them eat dirt, because it's the only way you can make yourself feel big. I've known a dozen little shits like you, and you know what? You're all the same. Pathetic little boys playing pretend."
Green eyes narrow as the blonde stares Pan down, before she shrinks back just a little as the boy King laughs. This is not the reaction she'd anticipated, and when Pan turns to Tink to offer her a sly wink and conspiring little smirk, Emma frowns and demands of the fairy
"What? What is it?"
But Tinkerbell merely shakes her head, looking away. In place of her answer, Pan cackles and turns back to the Saviour, bending down with his palms braced on his thighs so that his nose almost touches hers.
"You know so little it's laughable... You tell yourself you have me all figured out, but you're wrong, Orphan. You're so wrong! I am not a pathetic little boy, I am not a boy at all! I am bigger than a boy, greater than a man, I am a god on this island, and I see a great deal more than you might think... You know nothing of my true self, but I know you, Saviour, and I know that your words are merely a mirror. Oh, you're older than my flock here, and you have certain... assets... that I suppose aid you in making believe that you've grown up and moved on, but I see the truth, Emma. I see behind the mirror. You're a scared little girl under that mantle of bravado; a little girl that punches and kicks and pushes others into the mud, because it makes you feel big... You're a little girl with no home, no family, no future. The others don't see that, but I do! I see it! And so do you..."
"That's not true..."
"Oh, not technically, we both know that, the evidence speaks for itself... But that means nothing. What matters, Orphan, especially on this island- my island- is how you feel. What matters is your truth... And your truth is as I have laid it out for you; your truth is that you belong here. You're one of them, one of the lost ones, and knowing that has been killing you this entire little trip... Why did you think I singled you out? Favouritism?!"
Pan scoffs, and Emma offers him silence in return, looking past the boy and regarding Tink; trying to read the complex expression written across the fairy's face.
Angry at being ignored, and frustrated that the blonde seems caught up in her own mess rather than analysing his threat and giving him the level of concentration and fear he deserves, Pan presses his finger to the gash colouring Emma's cheek and forces her face back to his; kissing her softly on the lips.
"Of course... I suppose you were my type."
He confides with a flicker of his tongue, relishing the look of utter shock she allows him, and pulling back to stand over her once more.
"You know nothing."
He repeats, watching as she cringes back from him; pulling her legs up into her chest with a pained hiss as as she eyes him warily.
"Nothing at all. Nothing but the false truths in front of your nose, and that is how you will die, Saviour; naive and bitter. Blind."
The blonde cries out as pain seers her eyes. She is terrified for a moment that the despicable imp has brought truth to his threat, but as she claws at her face with battered hands, she slowly realises that she is able to blink away the worst of the pain, and that the culprit is not any breed of magic, but rather the loose grit she and Tink sit in; Pan having kicked a veil of it up at her.
"You sound so sure."
She snaps at him coldly, aware that involuntary tears stream down her face- stinging as they wash over the injury to her cheek- washing pale tracks through dust and dirt. Still, she bares her teeth at him; refusing to allow the boy to believe she means to give in and relinquish her life as easily as he seems to will of her, regardless of how appealing rest of any variety seems right now.
Don't worry, kid... You want a fight? I'll give you one. I'm not going down that easy. I'm not going down at all...
She offers Pan a wry smile, although below that voice of stubborn resolution, another voice makes itself heard, and this voice- quiet and exhausted- frets that it might be a little late to hang her hopes on winning any kind of fight. This voice whispers that her jeans are sticky- tacky with blood- and her hands aren't fairing much better. This voice seems to come from very far away as her vision and thoughts appear to be swimming beneath murky water, yet she knows it speaks an unsettling truth.
"I am sure."
Pan nods down at her, and he injects his voice with a hint of regret, although she is unable to discern whether it's genuine or mocking.
"You will die, Orphan. Spit back at me whatever reasoning you imagine I might have for it, but the fact remains the same. You will die here, on this island, at my command... You too, Tinkerbell, for which I am truly a touch bereaved."
Pan sighs, and the fairy crosses her arms as best as her restraints will allow and reasons coldly
"If it bothers you, why not let me off? Why not spare me?"
She shrugs as though her plea were a mere casual offering, and the boy laughs appreciatively as he turns back towards the shadows.
"Now, Tink, you and I both know that can't be done... Not after you went behind my back to help Henry escape."
He muses as he begins to walk away, before Emma calls out to him
"Hey, wait!... You say you want a fight... How come you're lying?"
"Excuse me?"
Pan frowns as he turns back to regard the Saviour.
"...What makes you think I'm lying?"
"You've shackled us. You've drugged me. If you kill us now, it will be a slaughter, not a fight... You won't be a victor, you'll be a murderer. What honour or lesson is there in that, however false?"
"... I never said your fate would be dealt by my hand."
"Then...-"
"-Don't worry, Saviour; you'll have your fight soon enough. When the tide goes out to mark the new day, you will have your battle, you will have your blood, you will have your defeat. Each of you will... And there will be no shackles, no Poppies, no handicaps. It will be just you, and Tinkerbell, and the pit."
"Wait... What?"
The women speak up in unison, each watching the boy slip into the shadows and disappear, before looking back at one another warily; falling uncomfortably silent.
"Here."
David offers as he leans down and passes a paper bag filled with a couple of slices of bread to Regina, along with a canteen of water. She looks up at him morosely as she accepts his offering, feeling unlike herself as she sits against the wall of the cave with her backside in the dirt, but too exhausted to move. Henry sits over on the far side of the cavern beside Snow with his hands stretched out towards the small fire the others have got going. He speaks to both the school teacher and Hook in a low voice, and she is unable to catch much of what he says. His tone is soft however, and he appears a little more relaxed than he had been when they'd first arrived.
She wishes she could feel the same way herself.
"You should come sit with us, it's warmer."
David encourages, and the brunette glances over at where the others have laid out their blankets but shakes her head. Charming sighs in response and she expects him to walk away, but instead he crouches down and regards her seriously.
"Are you hurt?"
"What's it to you?"
She hisses, and she knowns she's being difficult, but she can't seem to help herself. She is hurt; physically, mentally, emotionally. Her leg shoots dull agony up into her hip and her stomach aches with both hunger and nerves. She feels nauseous and dizzy, and a little like bawling in a way she hasn't done since she was a young girl. She's worried- terrified- about what might happen to Emma, and frustrated at her inability to convey this concern to the others in a way that translates the reality of their situation. They've told her to rest, and she knows that this is no longer a decision but a necessity, but she fears that in doing so, she is leaving the blonde to fight a battle they had vowed to undertake together on her own.
She's scared.
"I want to know if I can help you."
David responds to her irritable challenge, and she shakes her head, lowering her eyes to the bread bag and replies quietly
"You can't help me."
She doesn't look up, but Charming's shadow falls over her and she can tell that his shoulders slump before he pushes himself back up and stalks off to join the others. Both he and Snow have asked her about Emma- of course they have- but she hasn't been able to tell them anything more than that the blonde needs help. They understand, as she herself does, that for them to provide the younger woman any assistance, they need her to be back in control of her magic. They need for her to act once more- once again- as the front line to their attack.
"How I wish magic worked like it does in those stupid movies Henry likes... Limitless. Faultless once harnessed. Fantastical."
She murmurs as she unwraps what remains of their supplies and prods at the stale bread unhappily. She thinks back to Emma telling her to imagine her favourite food and closes her eyes as she tears off a chunk with her teeth. She has little luck turning dry cardboard into flavourful bruschetta, but she does manage to conjure just a flash of her dining room with the sound system set on low and her cutlery gleaming beneath the chandelier. The image is gone in an instant, leaving her once more sat on the dank floor of the cave, but not before she spies the blonde sat opposite her, playing childishly with her knife.
"Fuck."
She murmurs, chewing on her stale mouthful. She struggles to swallow, but once she does, she tears off another chunk hungrily. Ravenously. It tastes bad and the texture is unpleasant, but her stomach rumbles as it finally receives some much needed nourishment, and she eats and drinks quickly without the fastidious show of manners she has favoured most of her adult life.
"You should slow down, you'll make yourself sick."
Comes a low warning, and Regina looks up, startled, to regard Hook with a caged expression.
"Mind your own business and I'll mind mine, pirate."
She replies after a weighted pause, and Hook frowns, taken aback by the anger lacing the brunette's words.
"I just don't want you to choke."
He reasons, and dark eyes narrow dangerously as the Mayor continues to study him with open contempt. Uncertain why he seems to be on the receiving end of more of Regina's crap than usual, Hook sighs as he moves to take a seat beside her; tired of the Charmings' fussing and bickering which has in no way petered out as he'd hoped it might since reuniting with Henry. They keep asking the boy about his mother- about Emma- but Henry seems to have little to tell them in regards to her wellbeing or location. He wonders if Regina might be a little more informative, but this notion fills him with a separate breed of irritation, as he has not forgotten the suggestive shadow display played out over the wall of her tent. He is sure- almost sure- he'd mentioned something about it to Emma, but he is oddly fuzzy on the particulars of his last conversation with the blonde, and he isn't entirely sure if the subject was ever broached.
Doubtful. You'd remember her laughing it off in disbelief... I mean... It's Regina!
True, but as he regards the brunette now, he is a little less sure of himself.
Something happened. Something with Regina, and something... Something...
"What?"
She demands as the pirate frowns at her uncertainly.
"Nothing... I just had a strange thought, that's all."
"What was it?"
She asks, and he shrugs in a bid to call an end to the matter, but her attention on him remains rapt and shrewd.
"I'm just worried about Emma."
He states finally, using this truth to appease her apparent need for an answer, and she lets out a curious breath of laughter that speaks of no humour whatsoever, and sends a cold ripple down his spine.
"Why are you laughing?"
He asks, both annoyed and disturbed by her reaction, and she glances over at the others- at the Charmings and at Henry- before leaning in and hissing at him poisonously.
"You can keep your concern for Miss Swan to yourself. She doesn't want it. She has little time for such niceties from anyone, but from you?! She wants nothing from you. Nothing at all."
The hate in the brunette's voice is tangible, and the pirate pulls back a little; confused. His mind throws him shadows- forbidden lust and telling movements- and something else... Tree bark and wet mud.
"How's that?"
He asks, not appreciating the way she tells him what the blonde might want or not want, as who is she to know or to speak for Emma? Who is she to speak at all in this matter, when she is the darkness amongst them? The one to be watched?
The Mayor denies him an answer; simply glaring at him with venom glittering in dark eyes, and he snaps back
"I'm not the one Emma needs to worry about... I'm not the one that left her to Pan."
Fury at this, he can feel it emanating from her like pulsing heat, and he almost opens his mouth to apologise for making what was possibly an unnecessarily low blow, but those hateful shadows are so fresh in his mind as he studies the brunette, and instead, he insists icily
"What? It's true..."
"How dare you?!... After what you did?!"
The Mayor seethes, her voice low and cracked with anger as she has never wanted to rip the heart out of an other and render it to dust more than she does now.
She knows that this isn't an option, even under the weight of all of her anger, she knows. The others wouldn't understand; they would persecute her, and it would only hinder their cause, which she is entirely behind. They need to help the others- they must save Emma- and if she goes after Hook now, no matter whether she disobeys the Sheriff's wishes and tells them the truth about what happened, they will fail. She knows it.
But, I can't allow this... I can't allow what happened to just be let go... It shouldn't be! It's not right!
No, every fibre of her being is in agreement; she cannot let what she'd seen in the clearing go unavenged, and as she raises her hand, she thinks for a brief second on the fact that she is supposed to be conserving her power. She thinks of the energy and the health she will expend in doing what she means to do.
Is it worth it?
... Yes.
She concludes, clenching her jaw and pulling on the absolute last reserves of her resources.
She touches her hand to Hook's, closing her eyes as she concentrates.
She doesn't show him what happened, not because she couldn't, but because she knows Emma wouldn't want her to, and no matter how angry she is, she doesn't wish to fight one form of violation with another.
And in some ways, this is better. This is raw. This is real.
She pulls on everything she and Emma had spoken about since she warned the pirate off of the younger woman in the clearing, along with everything else left unsaid. Things she had simply understood- felt- when she'd touched the blonde back in the cave. Things she'd picked up on from the younger woman's tone, her expression, her mannerisms when sat shaking in the clearing.
She touches Hook, and she lets him feel what Emma had felt as a result of his actions. She clutches his hand and he grips hers back tightly as his heart hammers with a sudden surge of anger and adrenaline. His eyes widen as he feels the rough relief of tree bark and his nostrils flare with the stench of wet mud and decaying leaves. A slash of white pain and heat across his cheek, and suddenly a new smell- the smell of iron- mixes with that heady scent of sweat, rain and forest, and he's breathing fast- hyperventilating- as anger has been replaced by fear- electric and raw- and a new pain- a deeper, terrible pain- explodes down the left side of his abdomen, and he yells out; frozen.
"Hook?"
Snow looks up and calls out his name- alarmed- before hurrying over, and as quickly as the terrible blend of sensations overcame him, they're gone.
A sense of pressure- of weight- against his shoulder, and he turns his head- perspiration standing out at his temples- to find the brunette slumped against him.
"Regina?"
Mary Margaret tries as she kneels down and touches her hand to the Mayor's cheek.
"She's out cold."
She whispers fretfully, looking over at Hook who seems to be looking through her; shaken.
"What did you do?"
