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Innocence itself sometimes hath need of a mask ~ Polish proverb

Pan was alone when Felix found him.

Habit had insisted that he wear both cloak and hood despite the warmness of the new day. He felt a certain fragility without them that he would never admit.

The Boy-King was occupied with sharpening his dagger, and when he detected the approach of his cherished favourite, a roguish grin spread across his face, eyes like virid stars as he lifted his gaze to see the other boy slip into the clearing. It was the happiest Felix had seen his king in a long time.

"We have the boy?" Felix's question was close to purely rhetorical. He sat down next to Pan, close, and laid his club by his leg. The campfire could be spotted in the distance if the low plants danced the right way in the breeze.

"Now, did you ever doubt me?" the Boy-King all but purred the way he always did when pleased, and sheathed the dagger with a nimble flick of his fingers. "But the others will come. They've reached Neverland's shores already."

Somehow that didn't surprise Felix one bit. He observed his king carefully, lest anything betray him in those quiet moments. For centuries, he had waited, and Felix had waited with him.

Those steely grey eyes didn't even flicker as Pan caught them. "How was our old friend? Did he like my gift?"

They only ignited in response. "It was just as you predicted. The mighty Dark One, brought to tears by a doll," a smirk was shared between them. "But it's even more pitiful that he believes there's a chance to rescue the boy."

"No need to stop them all from trying. I'll keep an eye on our dear Dark One," Pan said without losing the knife edge at his lips; there was a toy he didn't think he'd ever have the chance to play with again. That had been a lovely little surprise. "I'm sure he's got a grudge to settle. He was always such an emotional boy from what I remember. I daresay even you wouldn't believe it."

Felix's gaze held onto the other's morning-lit features, and knew that unfathomable mind was at work. It nearly amused the Lost Boy to think that the little, teary eyed boy Pan had told him of all that time ago had grown up to become one of the most powerful sorcerers in creation. But, no, the Dark One didn't worry him one bit. As for the others…

Ants, the lot of them, and Pan was going to step on every last one.

"Do you think we can trust Sabre in this?" he questioned after an interregnum of quiet. "I've not doubted her in a long time…but this is different. It all comes down to this."

In all those long years, the girl had always kept him – kept everyone – at a distance, so often bound by silence, and Felix had quickly understood that the unspoken law to scarcely speak of life before Neverland had been one she was all too happy to keep amongst her brothers. He knew he would never learn of what she imparted to Pan, so it disinterested him. Just as she, or any other soul, would never learn of what he had imparted to the wild god.

However, experience had taught him enough. There was something wild and dangerous in her blood.

She was wise, sharp, but guided by a heart pledged to all that was foreign to the heart of his king.

"Relax, Fee. She's known better for a long time. I know where her loyalties lie. She can be trusted to keep her end of the bargain. I know she may need a little guidance; after all, she's still such an innocent little thing on the inside. But she'll play her part as I decide; I guaranteed that years ago," Pan assured him smoothly, turning those emerald orbs back towards the taller boy from where they had been lingering in the clearing, and Felix watched him the way he always had when he was thinking about being kissed. Something closely akin to affection enflamed for a brief moment, before Pan shattered it, his gaze picking out the distant flicker of flames. "You should know better than to worry by now. The game's only just started, and it's our move next."

Henry supposed that the Lost Boy's camp was as he was expected to be - crude huts, sleep rolls made from bamboo and animal pelts, fire pits, tools and weapons; everything had been adapted from the wilds, and they lived as a part of the island. Many of the faces he scoured with narrowed eyes seemed to be older than him, considerably so, and were nothing like the adorable boys dressed like animals from the movies.

He couldn't believe Pan had fooled him! By proving himself with the pixie dust, he'd made himself Pan's most wanted prize. He should have known better by then. It was not the Neverland from the wishful stories he had set foot in.

It would be all right, though. His family were coming for him, they'd find him – he didn't doubt it for a moment. They always found each other, no matter the odds.

The walls built up by his mothers had always hindered him somehow, trapped on one side or the other and trying to scale his way over but now he was starting to see why. Alone, vulnerable, stubborn and fierce, it might have been time for him to lay down some walls of his own. Emma would be grieved. Regina would be proud.

One of the boys, named Prentiss, had been instructed to show him the ropes of the camp and, despite his unshaken faith, the way he was introduced to everything unnerved him; he wasn't to be released any time soon. Prentiss was amicable enough, and Henry followed silently, nodding his assents and confirmations with the occasional brief word or hum. He was quick to notice that the Lost Boys moved in packs, small and large, so when he saw a solitary cloaked figure, his attention was keen to be captured.

"Who's that?" he asked, looking up at Prentiss then back to the lone figure.

Prentiss followed Henry's gaze to see who he was speaking of. "That's Sabre."

Henry's brow furrowed. There were no Lost Boys in the stories called Sabre, but then there were far more Lost Boys on Neverland than in the, rather inaccurate, portrayals. The lone Lost Boy had nothing occupying his hands; he was just sitting there, face hidden by a mask crafted to mimic the face of a dog. "Has he been here long?" he couldn't help but ask.

Prentiss' thin lips pulled in a small smirk. "A few decades I think, give or take. Time is strange on Neverland. Well, I'll leave you to get to know the others." Before Henry could even come up with a reply, Prentiss had slunk away and joined one of the packs, leaving him very much alone.

Taking in a breath, Henry's eyes darted around for Pan, and found him nowhere. Every second unoccupied, his mind raced all the faster.

How could Pan have possibly managed a whole operation from Neverland, found Greg and Tamara – of all people – and persuaded them that magic was evil so they would help destroy it? But then Henry supposed Pan was right. It was easier to nurture hate than belief, as much as he wished it wasn't so. Even in his few years he'd seen it happen, in life and in the stories entrusted to him. Not for him, though. He sighed; that's why Pan wanted him, his heart. Because he believed. Better than most, Henry knew the power of belief, but why Pan had sought him out and what he wanted from him – that, Henry did not know.

Knowing that there'd be at least a little time to kill before his family found and rescued him, Henry decided to approach the detached Lost Boy.

The loner noticed him before he even got close. Not a sound was made as they turned and raised their head, one fluid motion followed by complete stillness, like a deer catching a scent. Henry almost stepped back for it. Beneath the mask, and in the early light, a pair of eyes struck him, soul deep. He took a gulp, continuing his approach timorously.

"H-Hi," he began, not liking that his voice held a little shake in it – he cleared his throat, trying to remember all he had learnt from Regina's hip. "I'm Henry. I-I was told your name was Sabre."

The Lost Boy said nothing, and barely even blinked as they regarded him, unreadable. Henry's tummy coiled, finding he couldn't escape those dark eyes, and that his lessons were worth nothing against them. The other then lifted their hand, smaller than he'd expected, holding it out, and it took Henry a moment to realise they were offering a handshake.

He exhaled with a relief and shook Sabre's hand, which was surprisingly warm in his grip. His mothers' lessons came more easily then. "Mind if I sit?"

Still not uttering a word, Sabre gestured to the spot next to him. Henry smiled gratefully and sat down a little gingerly, wondering if it was possible that the boy was mute, but didn't want to risk the embarrassment of asking.

"I don't suppose you could tell me why Pan wants me?" he said instead.

As expected, the Lost Boy shook his head, though it wasn't what surprised him; beneath the dog mask, Sabre's eyes seemed close to sorrowful, even regretful, a look he had seen enough times over.

Henry looked down at his feet. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised."

The cold air was beginning to creep in; he drew his coat tighter around himself, staying hunched over to keep some warmth preserved. How long would he have to wait before he was rescued?

He was surrounded by other boys, and had never felt so alone in his life. Neverland wasn't a place for him, never would be. Home was the only place he wanted to be. His thoughts wandered to hot cocoa with cinnamon at Granny's, Operation Cobra and every time his family had found each other, no matter the odds. It wasn't enough to stop the shivering.

A warm weight settled on his shoulders. Initially, Henry tensed with unease. Then, looking up, he saw that Sabre had taken off his own cloak and was wrapping it carefully around him instead.

He wished he could see the face under the mask. "Thanks," he said quietly.

By the early afternoon of that same day, Sabre had grown drowsy enough to drag herself to Pan's hut to rest before nightfall, with her own still occupied. Disrobing her mask and the top layers of her clothing, having left her cloak with Henry, she felt light enough to fly; however, collapsing into the bed was far more appealing.

Dealing with the boy had been more taxing than watching Pan's two pawns being murdered in cold blood. She couldn't bear to think about it.

Above all, she had to keep her heart dormant, and so far, it wasn't working as well as she'd hoped or planned.

It's the only way, she begrudgingly reminded herself, for the thousandth time. Already her conscious mind was slipping away, her muscles relaxing and ready to rest.

The peaceful journey to sleep was interrupted only moments later by the approach of sure-footed steps.

"Do you need me?" she grumbled, voice mildly muffled by the pillow against her face.

The bed dipped, a hint of warmth brushing against her arm. "Not until tonight, pup," a large hand stroked the back of her head. The low smoothness of his voice did little for her ability to stay awake either. "I'm off to see the Saviour. See what we're up against."

"That's Henry's mother, yes?" Sabre grumbled, eyes still closed.

"One of them."

"Remind me of your plan?"

Pan's hand continued to slowly stroke. "I'm going to give her the map that will lead her to Henry."

"Why would you do that?" Sabre's words nearly slurred with lethargy.

The Boy-King snickered. "It's not just any map, silly girl. However, knowing our heroes, they'll try to find some way to get around solving my puzzle, and tonight we'll be ready for them. Don't worry, Henry will be far away."

"Mmhm," she breathed out, sensing the conversation was over. Although it still plucked a tiny cord when she felt Pan's weight ease from the bed and heard his retreating footsteps.

"Oh, and by the way," his voice sounded from the other end of the room, "our mutual pirate friend has accompanied this little rescue party. Just so you aren't taken by surprise. We both remember what happened last time."

Eyes opening, Sabre found the strength to lift her head and look over her shoulder. Pan was already gone, while his words repeated silently. The scar on her neck ached. Killian… He's come back? How is he mixed up in this? The last time she'd seen of him was the day Rufio died. And the last thing either of them had expected for many years was to ever cross blades with each other. She'd seen his heart fracture in the space of a moment. She'd never looked for him since.

"Oh, fucking hell," she sighed exhaustedly, and her head collapsed back onto the pillow, eyes falling closed.

It hardly felt like even a moment had passed before Sabre felt a hand shake her, just shy of painfully.

Groaning in the back of her throat, she opened her eyes, not looking all too pleased as she lifted her head. Of course it's Felix… Who else would it be apart from Felix? She'd lost count of how many times he'd kicked or shaken her awake, or been the first face she had to deal with in the morning.

"I'm coming," she growled out, heaving herself up. "You bastard," she added in a mutter.

The shaggy-haired boy waited while she donned her over-clothes and hood, but left her mask. "You might want to bring a weapon."

"Into battle? You really do hit the nail on the head every time," Sabre drawled back, meanwhile contemplating what to bring with her. "Come on," she swept passed Felix, slipping out of the hut and jogging to the armoury hut with no hindrance from the dark, well adapted.

It was an unspoken rule that another's weapons were not to be used, had been for as long as nearly anyone could remember. Many of the other boys were hastily preparing, readying themselves for the likely fight; there was plenty of Dreamshade going around. Sabre strapped the short sword, the one that had been at her side for near forty years, given to her by Tiger Lily, around her hips, the leather sheath able to secure at her thigh with another fastening, and decided to bring her bow as well. Crossbows had never been much to her taste. Her quiver, already filled with sharp arrows, had a familiar and pleasing weight at her back but, unlike the others, she had not touched a drop of the Dreamshade.

The surface of her skin tingled, trapped between an equally potent relief and nausea. Killian's come back... She struggled to understand what was taking hold of her, and didn't have the time or energy to contemplate it. A different kind of power surged in her muscles, reaching as deep as her bones, a need.

A need for battle that she'd carried long before Neverland.

In the heat of the moment, all that mattered was fighting, struggling, surviving. Years of practice made it almost effortless to fall into that controlled trance; she didn't miss the days where it almost ripped her apart to let go. All else was taken away, for a while. A sad fact that war soothes me more than peace. Perhaps that'd change, one day. Perhaps not.

Departing the camp, Slightly was the one to surmise the strategy; Henry's family – the so-called heroes – had attempted to use a locator spell to lead them to Pan, and therefore to Henry. As Pan had predicted. Sabre had even remarked about the rather gapping flaw in their plan as she ran alongside Slightly to one of the other, newer and currently unused, camps. They were to surround the Truest Believer's rescuers without detection, and engage when the order was given. Pan was to appear solitary before them; outnumbered, deceptively vulnerable to those who had not faced him before.

The Lost Ones scattered silently under cloaks, hoods and masks. Sabre took a safe position and steadied her breathing. Turning and looking ahead, she could see Pan, and her eyes briefly narrowed to see him wearing what appeared to be a replicate of Henry's outlandish clothes. His eyes found her as he looked over his shoulder, startlingly swift. He winked, wearing a mischievous grin. Suddenly, without her mask donned, Sabre felt bare and unprotected; she couldn't share his glee, but under the mask it wouldn't have mattered.

The foliage rustled. Sabre ducked down, breath caught.

She peeped out and counted five adult figures emerge cautiously. The third of her count was Killian.

Throat dry and heart still, Sabre swallowed uncomfortably and wished more than ever that the mask was adorned. She tried to gaze at her old enemy and even older friend, finding her will was not that strong.

Would their blades come to cross again?

Had he meant to kill her when he left that fine cut to her throat?

Sabre bowed her head, eyes squeezed shut in trying to banish those thoughts into nothing. They were not things she could dwell upon now. A final swallow and summoning of resolve, Sabre lifted her gaze and forced it to scour over the other figures.

A woman, with golden hair pale as the dawn, rushed forward ahead. Henry's mother, the saviour, Emma. The look on her face was all too familiar.

Sabre turned away again, helpless and weakened, and shut her eyes.

"Henry!" Emma called out with a glimmering burst of hope.

Opening her eyes under the weight of duress, Sabre watched it snuff from existence as it was Pan who turned around. "Hi, Emma."

The rest of her companions rushed forwards, unaware of the shadowy figures ready to descend like smoke, closing the gap with their own leader. Asides from Killian and Emma, Sabre did not recognise who had come. She noted them quickly - the woman to Emma's right had a dark fierceness about her, even darker hair dusting shoulders that were clad by a bold blue garment; the man behind was darkly dressed with lighter hair, a noble soul that could be seen burning from a mile away; and the woman beside him shone the same, with unveiled eyes under an impish mop of pitch black hair, a bow slung on her back. It's easier if you don't know their names, she told herself.

Sometimes.

"Where the hell is Henry?" Emma demanded.

Pan began to pace leisurely, unintimidated, as if he hadn't even heard her. "You broke the rules. That's not fair. Bad form," he reprimanded, head tilted to the side. "I expect more from you, Captain."

"Aye, and you'll get it," Killian snarled back.

"Give Henry to me," Emma spoke up, the edge of a plea in her voice, and Sabre had to look away again.

"Sorry, can't," Pan continued strolling, his gait perfectly at ease. "Don't you know?" he came to stop, almost directly in front of where Sabre was crouched. "Cheaters never win."

The jungled suddenly erupted with life as the Lost Boys unveiled themselves, howls and other ungodly sounds on their lips. Taking the bow from her back, Sabre sprung into motion along with them, and took her place at Pan's flank. She nocked an arrow, holding the bow low, ready to be drawn.

In the confusion, she was just another face, one that, with a hood, could pass easily enough as androgynous. It was only Killian who saw her.

For the blink of an eye, Sabre thought she saw the tiniest flicker of relief before his face hardened. And it hurt. Tight lipped, jaw locked if only to keep from trembling, Sabre gripped the bow a little tighter, itching to loose the arrow, if only to release something.

The heroes readied themselves in kind, drawing their own weapons, ready to face the far larger army. Sabre couldn't decide if it was admirably brave or completely foolish.

"Watch out for their arrows. They're laced with Dreamshade," Killian warned his companions, body priming.

Fool it is.

He'd barely finished speaking when the first arrows were let loose, hurtling mercilessly through the air. Sabre grit her teeth and loosed her first arrow, changing her aim suddenly to the unfamiliar man. In the last moment she tried to just miss.

With amazing prowess, he deflected the arrows with the false edge of his blade, one after the other, while his archer companion shot back her arrows; Sabre was quick to become aware that they were to stun or halt, not even to injure. A few of the pack began to close in, the rest remaining at a range, their arrows raining down.

"Mary Margret!" the swordsman shouted as he threw himself at the woman, pushing her aside to avoid Slightly's well aimed arrow. It skimmed his clothes, tearing them like a razor's edge.

"David," she gasped fearfully, loud enough for Sabre to catch, but it didn't look as though the arrow had pierced his skin.

"Behind you!" David yelled; Mary Margret spun on her heels, firing with adept smoothness that only pinned her attacker's cloak to the tree behind him.

Still from her vantage position, Sabre watched as Prentiss, Hawkin and Devin charged at the woman whose name Sabre still hadn't caught. A purple light surged from her hand, propelling all three back like ragdolls. Baring her teeth, Sabre nocked, aimed and loosed an arrow. It whisked past the woman's dark head, distracting her long enough for the three boys to spring back on their feet. Sabre's head snapped back into the main fray, and her throat ran dry again, heart screeching to a sick halt. Felix had locked weapons with Killian.

She didn't know who it was she wanted to shoot more.

Clenching her bow in an iron grip, she raced down the slope towards them, and heard Killian snarl a taunt to Felix about Rufio, awakening a venomous fire to seep into her blood. Her hands nearly trembled as she grounded herself to nock an arrow. Killian gained the upper hand and shoved Felix back, taking the boy's balance from him. Taking a moment, Sabre adjusted her aim by a fraction and shot.

Time slowed down in her eyes, breath hitched as the arrow sailed through the air. As if she was standing right there, Sabre saw the tip glide perfectly through the first few layers of skin on Killian's neck, drawing hot blood. The rest of the world sped up again at the herald of the man's clenched cry. I hope that your scar burns like mine, Sabre lowered her bow.

Felix seized his chance while he could and raised his club high to bring it crashing down on the pirate, a ferocious growl reverberating through his jaw. Sabre ripped her attention away before she could see what came next, and her eyes speedily affixed on the Saviour.

The pale woman was wrestling with one boy after the next, advancing on Pan's side of the bank. Getting too close…

Sabre bolted, hurling off the quiver, and tackled the woman from the side, letting go of her bow as she pounced like a wild dog. The fever of battle kept away the pain of their brutal collision. The two gripped ferociously at each other as they tumbled down the slope of the bank, already fighting against the other's strength in their disorientation. Sabre felt her back collide with the ground, away from Pan, the breath knocked from her lungs. Emma was above her, pinning the girl down, ready with a Lost Boy's dagger at her throat.

"Where's Henry?!" she roared, voice torn apart. "Where is he?!"

Her eyes… The unbridled wildness and fierceness of a mother, that untameable rage and fear, the loss of all control. In that second, Emma ripped down into her very soul, as if it was all her fault for taking Henry away from her.

Sabre was still. Terror shook her breath. All she could do was look up at the Saviour, whose body was quaking and eyes were blown wide.

But, as Emma looked back into the eyes of the Lost One, something changed, and Sabre knew in that next moment her life would be spared.

Emma breathed out, the mad, desperate rage seeping away, and suddenly she climbed off of Sabre, stumbling to her feet.

"Emma, are you all right?" asked Mary Margret.

Before Emma could answer, Pan whistled. Sabre scrambled to her feet, her hood now down, long braid hanging loose and rugged, and retreated with the Lost Boys back to their leader, returning to Pan's flank with Felix.

"Remember what I told you," Pan said, stepping towards the rival clan. "That map will show you where Henry is only when you stop denying who you really are. I'll make sure to send Henry your regards." He turned away and the air filled with the shouting and whooping of the Lost Boys as they descended back into the dark woods.

Sabre looked back, the truth of her identity now exposed, and found each of the heroes gawping at her sheer, defiant existence.

Unable to look any of them in the eye, she turned forward and hurried to catch up and overtake her companions, close to collapsing under the weight of her shame.

Morning light bled through into the heroes' makeshift camp, silence and staggered hope tainting the air. Sat with her back to the fire, Emma looked at the blank map, angry. Angry at the map, angry at Pan, but most of all enraged with herself. Her shoulders grew stiff when Mary Margret sat down besides her, the other woman's body angled towards her.

"Please talk to me," Mary Margret pleaded softly.

"There's nothing to talk about," Emma's response was crisp. "We had our chance and we lost – I lost."

Mary Margret's hands clasped together. "Then you have to keep fighting."

"You heard what Hook said. Pan is a demon."

"And you are a-,"

"What?" Emma interjected brusquely. "A Saviour? Because if that were true, this map would have shown us the way already." God, she could have torn up that damned map, burnt it then stomped on its ashes.

Nothing, nothing, was on their terms, and it made her scream inside. Emma tossed the map to the ground by her aching feet.

Somehow, Mary Margret was still calm – infuriatingly so – and she paused thoughtfully. "Maybe who you think you are isn't who you really are," she wondered pensively.

"What do you mean?" Emma muttered tersely, her pale eyes cast straight ahead.

"Sometimes we think we know ourselves, but we need a push to show us the reality," the other explained soothingly, but Emma looked away irritably. "That girl who attacked you – you stopped fighting her. Why?"

"'Cause she was…just a girl," Emma's voice began to tremble, remembering those dark, frightened, unhappy eyes, too old for the young face she'd looked into.

Regina cut in – she, Hook and Charming having been within earshot of their conversation – "Pan has Lost Girls now, too?"

"No," Killian was the one to answer; Emma and Mary Margret turned to face the pirate. "She's the only one."

"You know her?" David asked, his arms folded.

The other caught himself before he could stray too far. "Aye. Her name is Sabre."

"Who is she?" Regina demanded impatiently.

Killian dragged his gaze irritably to the Evil Queen. "Yes, I was getting to that," he took a swig of rum, savouring it, especially after he'd had to waste some in cleaning his arrow wound. "Some years ago, she spent a brief time on my ship. I found her begging on the borders of the Enchanted Forest, knew that she probably wouldn't survive the winter so I took her on as a cabin boy," he took another swig. "Our first voyage, just as it happened, was here, and Pan gave me a deal – the lives of my crew for the girl. Now, I know the demon is twisted and fickle and unpredictable but I've believed for a long time that he needed her for something; I mean, she's survived this long."

"But she's still working with Pan. Who was it who did that to you?" Regina snapped rhetorically, gesturing to Killian's bandaged neck.

The pirate ground his jaw and the fresh wound gave a particularly harsh twinge. "This wasn't just mindless violence. When my bargain with Pan was completed once and for all, he gave me one final deal: he would allow Sabre to leave with me if I fought for her and help him thin the herd, as he liked to put it. I was the reason she was trapped here, it was the least I could do for her. I had believed she was dead for some time; Pan convinced me of that but I knew somewhere that she had to have lived."

"What made you believe that?" Charming asked him, tone notably softer.

"When I was returning here after a month or so, in our world, I saw someone out on the cliffs in the dark, holding out a lantern, bright as the North Star. It would have been about… a year gone on Neverland but in all my time I'd never seen a guiding light, until then. My gut told me it could only be one person. And even after Pan convinced me he'd killed her, the lantern was still there, every time we sailed here," the pirate explained, beginning to drift away.

Regina's huff was grated nonetheless. "Yes, that's a lovely story but if you could get to the point."

In return, Killian's scowl was bitter but he continued; "I took Pan's deal, and when we came ashore, the Lost Boys were waiting for us, just as Pan said. But he said nothing about Sabre leading the charge."

"It was a trap?" Emma surmised.

He took a breath before nodding. "By then Sabre had been stranded here for a very long time and wasn't willing to leave Pan. To this day I don't know what he must have done to make her that way. In the battle, I slew one of Pan's right hands; Rufio, his name was. She came at me with eyes like fire I'd never seen. I knew then there was no way to reach her, so I," Killian swallowed, glancing down.

"What?" Emma prompted curtly. "What did you do?"

"Let's just say that Sabre and I are now going to have matching scars."

Mary Margret's hand slipped up to her mouth, and unsurprisingly David looked appalled, the former softness banished. Killian rolled his eyes inwardly; now the oh-so noble Charming's had another reason to distrust him. It was probably too late to add that the feral girl had nearly split open his gut first in her fury.

"What does any of this have to do with getting Henry back?" Regina barked in agitation. "If she's working with Pan then she's our enemy just as much as he is."

"Regina, maybe it's not that simple," Mary Margret countered reasonably. "Maybe Pan took her away like he took Henry – she's the only girl with him. And it doesn't sound like she was exactly willing to go in the first place," she spared a glance to Killian for his affirmation. "There's got to be a reason for it all. If we could find her, if we get through to her-,"

"I'm not sure that's possible," Killian sighed as he scratched his jaw. "She may not have been able to escape with me but I remember very clearly how she refused to even try, and instead she tried to kill me, very likely on Pan's behalf. And, as much as I don't want to admit, the Queen is right – she is with Pan now, no matter what came before, and there's every chance he's got his claws all the way in. However," he paused, "I'm not sure we should leap to any conclusions; she could have killed me today and I believe that she spared me on purpose. There's no way to know what her motivations are from here."

"If anyone was here on their own for that long it makes sense that they'd eventually turn to Pan's side," Mary Margret rationalised, unable to conceive of all those years alone in Neverland; "Who knows what she's had to endure."

"And that's why we have to get to Henry," Emma cut in. "Before the same thing ends up happening to him."

Thanks for reading, please tell me what you thought of this chapter.

I'm still waiting for a few more inputs on whether you guys would like me to extend Delirium to after the Season 3a arc has come to a close, I'd be happy to go either way so it really is up to you, my friends!

p.s. Updates may be a little scarcer as I'm entering into that period of revision before my second year exams so I won't have very much time to edit or write so please do bear with me!