I really wanted to get this up so my edit was a little quick. I'll do another sweep at some point soon if there are any grammatical errors or something haha.
Hope it reads well!
~cosette141
"What's your name, boy?"
"Baelfire."
It felt like only yesterday.
"I loved your mother. We had planned to come back for you, to be a family. You and I can still make good on those plans."
"I can change, Bae. For you."
He had changed.
Only far, far too late.
Killian felt a breath eased from his lungs, though the emotions it held were far from ease.
He didn't know how long he'd held Emma after Bae had grown still.
She'd cried into Killian's chest, so similarly to when she had in New York, except this time, her brokkenness wasn't physical.
Killian had held her, tight and strong, unable to comprehend what Baelfire had done.
He'd taken that arrow for him.
He'd sacrificed his life, for him.
Killian knew the sacrifice was more specifically for Emma, which was something that touched him for her, knowing how deeply Bae had hurt her, had broken her. Knowing that Bae's love for her had been out of exactly what Emma had said it was: convenience.
His death, however, was anything but.
And Killian knew, his arms only tightening around Emma more, his own tear falling into her hair as he'd pulled her even closer to his chest, that Bae's sacrifice would not be in vain.
"Get her off this island, Killian. Take care of them."
The look he had exchanged with Bae had held a thousand words. It had a spark of the good that their relationship had once been. It was understanding, it was regret, and it was forgiveness that Killian didn't think he deserved.
Baelfire had left his own son and the woman he loved to Killian to protect, to care for.
It was something Killian didn't need to be told to do, as it was already a promise he'd made to himself in that apartment in New York.
Killian had looked down at Emma, crying in his arms, head buried in his chest, fingers tangled in his shirt, and regardless had made that promise to himself again.
And again.
And again.
That had been a while ago.
Now, Killian was on his knees at the edge of a lake, Emma's hand still clutched around the sleeve of his coat.
Lying beside him, was Baelfire, whom Killian had carefully wrapped in the heavy leaves of the area, in a way that he was much too experienced at.
Killian's hand settled over the last fold in the leaves, feeling a muscle tick in his jaw.
He lifted his gaze to the lake.
A lake he also knew far, far too well.
It was hidden in the depths of the jungle. It was the only peaceful waters Neverland knew, other than the spring at the top of Dead Man's Peak.
No mermaids, no sirens, no creatures. It was just calm waters, serene as the moonlight reflecting off its still surface.
Which was why it was where Killian had chosen to bring the members of his crew that had passed while he'd been here.
The lake wasn't far from where Baelfire had passed. Killian had brought him here, Emma still fixed to his side, staying even closer to him than she has before.
Killian felt Emma bend down beside him now, her eyes on Baelfire, her other hand clutching something that had fallen from Bae's pocket when Killian had lifted him.
It was something that had made Emma's breath catch, a skip in her heart that Killian had felt through their touch.
It was a necklace, with a charm of a swan.
Emma had picked it up, and had been holding it ever since.
Killian watched now as Emma laid her hand over Bae's chest, her eyes shutting as she spoke something to him within her mind, before opening her eyes, a tear falling down her cheek as she pulled her hand back.
And Killian carefully eased Bae into the waters.
He stood, feeling both of Emma's arms wrap around his waist as they watched Baelfire slowly sink beneath the water's surface.
Rest, my boy.
Killian felt his eyes burn, flashes of Liam and Milah making the muscle in his jaw tick uncomfortably.
"You've done this a lot, haven't you?"
Killian's eyes opened at Emma's soft voice, and he turned to see her looking at him, eyes sad, but this time, for him.
That muscle shifted uncomfortably in his jaw again, like it was trying to prevent the truth of his whispered, "Aye."
"You cared about him," whispered Emma, not as if it was a question, since she already knew. More as a prompt.
"We spent some time together when he was a boy," managed Killian, voice thick. "We could have spent more than that, however." That muscle shifted again, as if it hated the words as much as he did. "I'd chosen my revenge, my own selfishness over him." His eyes shut, and he felt Emma's hand grab his, intertwining with his fingers and holding tight. "There hadn't been a day that went by I didn't regret that choice." He sighed again, releasing more pain like steam. "I thought revenge was the only way to honor Milah," he whispered. "But all these years… I can't help wondering if choosing to take in her son would have meant more to her." A tear slipped down his cheek.
But the small gasp at his side from Emma had him opening his eyes.
She was looking at him with a kind of shock. He looked at her, watching thoughts race through her eyes. Realizations. "Milah…" she breathed. "She was Gold's… and Neal was… Gold's…" As the pain deepened in Killian's eyes, she whispered, "He was Milah's son." She whispered it so quietly, eyes wide. "I never realized…" Her eyes found his, her fingers tightening more around his, understanding the pain in his eyes now.
"It's all right, love," he whispered, eyes finding the lake that had now grown still once again. Tears in his eyes, he said softly, "He's with his mother now." He felt himself release a breath, this time, feeling it hurt a little less, a faint smile touching his lips, as broken as it was.
A tear slipped down Emma's cheek at his words, but she matched his broken smile. She let out a sigh of her own as her own eyes found the water. With a touch of emotion as deep as the ocean, Emma slipped the necklace in her pocket.
They were quiet for a few moments longer, but there was an anticipation in the air, holding the island in a tense grip that Killian could no longer ignore.
He could feel the emotion shift within Emma at the same time it did him, like they both knew that this moment, as much of a refuge as it was, didn't erase the fact that their danger was far from over.
The knowledge that Pan had given up the chase, and instead had taken Emma's parents hostage to wait for her to come to him…
It was an anticipation that felt like the calm before a storm, and Killian was not chancing getting caught in it.
Killian broke their silence first, tightening his fingers around Emma's in preparation for his words, and for her response to them.
"We should find a way off the island, love."
As he expected, Emma tensed, looking at him with confusion. "Off the island?" she echoed. "Leave? But, Killian, Mary Margaret and David—"
"—are in the hands of a demon who wants you dead," he stressed, turning to face her, every bit of his fear in his eyes, in his voice, in his entire bloody body. "If we attempt to save them, Emma, Pan will kill you." His voice shook around the words.
Emma stared at him, his fear reflected in her eyes, but warred with a whole other kind of fear. "But… if we leave, he'll kill them," she whispered.
"Pan may be weak," stressed Killian, holding her even tighter, "but he has leverage against you, Emma. Your parents. If we try to save them, he will kill all of us." Taking a painful breath, Killian said, "We need to heed Baelfire's warning, love. We need to go back to Storybrooke and get you safe."
"But—" breathed Emma, tears shining in her eyes. "I can't lose them—"
"And I can't lose you!" The words exploded out of him, laced with desperation, another tear slipping down his cheek because he cannot stand to lose one more person.
He cannot stand to lose her.
"Emma…" he broke out, watching her own pain at seeing his. "I've lost everyone." he breathed, the words raw and broken. "I cannot lose you too." His hand left her fingers to touch her face, holding her gently, the idea of her walking into in more danger, into her own demise making him feel sick. "Emma, I can't," he whispered.
Emma held his gaze, a tear slipping down her own cheek, reading the depth of the pain in his eyes. "I can't lose you either," she whispered, her hand lifting to settle on his forearm, his hand still holding her like the precious thing she was. But her brows creased, and she whispered, "But, Killian… I can't leave them here. They're… they're more than just my friends, they're… they're…" Her eyes shut, a tear slipping past her lashes. "They're my parents."
Killian felt his heart skip, pain flashing through his chest.
Because this was the first time he's ever heard her refer to them as her parents.
Emma's eyes opened, her cheeks wet. "I know I was mad at them and I know… I know everything's screwed up," she whispered. "But I… I… I miss them," she broke out. A little sob escaped her, and Killian felt his own expression crease, his own heart breaking at her pain.
As much as Killian hurt for her, seeing her so upset, he couldn't see a way to save her parents without Emma giving her life.
And that was not something he could let her do.
It wasn't something he knew her parents could let her do, either.
"Emma, your parents… they don't want you to save them. They love you so much."
Baelfire had said it himself; her parents' last wish was to keep her safe.
"Emma, love," said Killian gently, yet still unable to keep his desperation out of his voice, "Your parents… they wouldn't be able to live with themselves if something happened to you. I know I bloody wouldn't," he breathed, thumb brushing over her cheek even when his fingers shook.
"But," she began.
"Think of Henry, love," whispered Killian, grasping desperately for a way to convince her, watching pain flash in her eyes. "He needs his mother."
"Well so do I!" exclaimed Emma, making Killian freeze at the agony in her eyes. An agony he's seen so, so often in every Lost Boy he's come across. Pain carved from years and years and years of longing, of waiting, of hurting.
Emma sniffed, wiping tears off her cheek with the back of her hand. "I don't want to be an orphan again," she whispered, another tear falling down her cheek.
Killian was frozen, torn, so bloody frozen between pain and agony.
But Emma wiped the tear away, brows narrowing. "I am not letting some damn little punk take my parents from me," she growled, a fire erupting inside her, a fight. "I have spent my whole life wanting my parents, and I am not leaving here without them." Her eyes flashed, such a strong determination shining through them it made Killian lose his breath, as she looked nothing short of fierce. "I have to do this, Killian," she said, that emotion softing only a little, for him, but the determination only seemed to grow. "I have to save them. And I'm going to save them. I'm…" Her eyes shut, voice catching. But her eyes opened, her eyes shining the strength of acceptance through them. "I'm a Savior." A little, shaky smile. But then, she froze, like a thought had struck her. Her eyes snapping to him, she repeated, "I'm a Savior." That smile at her lips grew. "Killian—I have magic," she whispered. "You saw how I saved us from those Lost Boys, how I saved us from Cora—"
"Aye…" said Killian slowly.
"I don't know how to do a lot with it," she admitted, "but I do know how to protect people." Her smile grew. "All I need to do is use a shield on my parents and then it's just us versus Pan. Between your sword-throwing and my magic, we can defeat him."
Killian felt himself hesitate, his brow lifting at the idea.
Emma has used her magic to protect them on command; she seemed to understand it, at least in that respect. If Pan is holding her parents hostage and Emma can protect them from harm…
…there was nothing standing in the way of them defeating the bloody demon, especially with him being as weak as he was.
But even so, even with their chances higher…
The idea of letting Emma walk into anywhere where there was any chance of her getting hurt, or worse…
"Killian," came Emma's voice, cutting into his thoughts, making him look up, finding her eyes on his. There was a doubt in her eyes at his silence. She swallowed hesitantly, saying, "I can do this." Her eyes lingered on his, that little piece of doubt, waiting on his support.
And it stunned him for a moment.
This was Emma.
Someone, Killian knew, had never once believed in herself.
Never believed that she could be loved or wanted.
Never believed she was special.
But here, in lieu of facing, of walking head first into a battle rigged against her, she's chosen to believe in herself.
And yet, almost as rare as her own belief in herself, was someone else's belief in her, which other than himself, had only truly come from Henry. Everyone else's belief in her, including what he's seen of her parents, had been shaky, reluctant, unsure.
And if she wasn't suggesting to go up against the most terrifying foe he's ever bloody faced, he wouldn't even have hesitated to encourage her.
It wasn't a lack of belief in her, more than a blinding fear of testing it.
But it was clear in her eyes—this was something she had to do.
And just as clear, was that she needed him to let her.
So, he lifted his hand back to her face, brushing away the last tear she didn't manage to erase. "Aye," he said, voice as sure as the look in her eyes, watching that doubt wash away as he said, "You can."
The relief, the pure flash of joy in her eyes at his belief in her made the last of his own doubt leave his chest.
He was yet to see her fail at anything.
But despite his trust in her, his belief in her, he found himself pulling her to his chest, shutting his eyes, holding her in his safety as long as he could. Wishing he could keep her in his arms forever.
But Emma Swan was no damsel in distress, he's learned that from the moment he met her.
She was a Savior.
He needed to trust that that meant she could save herself just as much as everyone else.
He pulled back, feeling Emma hesitate a moment before letting go of him, and he realized he wasn't the only one reveling in the last moment of safety before they ventured into the lion's den.
Emma looked at him, that determination setting her shoulders.
A determination he returned.
"And I will be with you every step of the way, love," said Killian firmly, his every devotion to her weighing the words, her eyes softening with that vulnerable surprise. That shock that someone cared so deeply for her, something he desperately wanted her to get used to. "We will defeat him, and save your parents."
Emma smiled, something so bright, and she kissed him, every bit of gratitude in it, so strong his eyes shut. They pulled away, and Killian kissed her once more, this time showing his own gratitude because she, for some reason, was devoted to him.
Her eyes inches from his, she slid her hand to his chest, resting over his heart. "You're a survivor," she said softly, a little smile at her lips, at the fact. And she lifted her gaze to his, whispering, "So am I."
His eyes lingered on hers, smiling as he took her hand. And looking toward where he knew Skull Rock lay ahead, Killian took a breath, and whispered with a grin of his own, "Then let's go do what we do best."
They set off, Killian battling the fear that tried to stop him every step of the way, hoping her parents were just as much survivors as they were.
Mary Margaret's eyes snapped open.
The bedroom of the foster home, the cold loneliness, and the little girl were suddenly gone as she was shocked awake, but just like last time, the emptiness remained.
"Mary Margaret?!"
She blinked a few times, her mind still disoriented, half of her still in that dream, that foster home.
"Snow!"
Her true name through a familiar voice, plus a shake on her shoulder finally shattered her daze.
She shot upright, her head nearly smacking into David's, who was leaning over her worriedly.
"David?" she gasped.
David let out a breath of relief, though it didn't erase the fear kneading his brows and darkening his eyes. Just the sight of him afraid had Mary Margaret's heart racing even faster than it had been, and she suddenly realized where they were.
They were in what looked like a giant, dim, torch-lit cave. It was cold, but Mary Margaret knew the temperature came from much more than just the feel of the air.
It simply felt cold, in every context of the word.
Not to mention the fact that they were both trapped in what looked like a cage.
"Where…?" breathed Mary Margaret, stumbling to her feet. She grabbed the bars of the cage, which looked like strong bamboo, the slats far too small to squeeze through. She reached behind her for an arrow, only to find her bow and arrows gone.
"They took our weapons." came David's voice from behind her. "My sword is gone, too."
Mary Margaret yanked on the bars, hard.
They didn't budge an inch.
She whirled around, looking at her husband with wide eyes. "Where are we?" she breathed.
"I don't know," said David, moving closer to her, whether consciously or unconsciously, as he canted his head back to inspect the cave. "I woke you up right after I did." He swallowed, and Mary Margaret could practically see his skin crawl. Something haunted in his eyes, he looked at the cage, and whispered, "Feels like that dream, doesn't it?"
Mary Margaret felt herself swallow, hard, because that had been the first thing that ran through her own mind.
"Where the hell are we?" breathed David, jerking at the cage bar, but it held strong.
Mary Margaret felt fear slide icily down her spine, the memories hitting her in an instant.
Pan had captured them, locking them wherever the hell this place was, intending to use them against Emma.
And Neal…
Fear and anger raced through her because hasn't he hurt her enough?
Mary Margaret looked desperately at David. "You don't think Neal will actually…?" she breathed.
David's eyes only darkened. "I don't know. But Emma's smart. And so is Hook. Neal said they were together," he said, like that thought eased his mind a little, something that just days ago had made David want to kill Hook. "I don't think Neal would be able to trick them into anything." said David, voice trying to hold onto confidence that was slipping.
"But… David," whispered Mary Margaret, eyes burning. "You don't think Emma will actually… come for us, do you?"
At that, David's brows kneaded. "I don't know." He ran a hand over his face, only more fear in his eyes. "God, I hope she doesn't. She's suffered for us once already," he said, the words looking like they pained him, the same pain twisting Mary Margaret's heart. "I refuse to let it happen to her again." He yanked on a bar of the cage again, only to curse when it didn't even so much as bend.
Mary Margaret felt a determined resolve settle in her chest, narrowing her eyes. "We need to get out of here and find her," she said firmly, even when it made her voice shake with doubt.
With just as much determination in David's eyes, he nodded.
"Good luck with that."
Mary Margaret felt a gasp escape her at the ominously familiar voice, and she felt David quickly jump in front of her, shielding her.
Because Pan was suddenly standing just outside the cage, grinning at them like a predator would at prey.
Which was far too accurate.
"Let us go," growled David, staying close enough to Mary Margaret she could feel his heart pounding. "And don't you dare hurt Emma!"
"I think I like you right where you are," drawled Pan. He smiled, stepping closer to the cage, but still out of reach if David were to reach through and try to wring his neck. But there was something about him that seemed…
Unhinged.
Wrong.
There was something wrong with him.
More than just his morals.
"Why do you want Emma?!" demanded Mary Margaret suddenly, her voice shaking, knuckles white on the cage bars as she yanked fruitlessly at them.
"I don't want her," said Pan with a roll of his eyes. "I need her." A wicked grin, looking only more haunting with the shadows under his eyes, a gaunt look that was terrifying all on its own.
Mary Margaret and David went still.
"She's a Savior," said Pan, in a duh tone of voice. "And a Savior can save anyone's life. Even someone who has been alive for thousands of years. Someone whose heart is beyond repair."
Mary Margaret froze.
Pan's words from before.
"Taking her by force has been more difficult than I had anticipated."
Someone whose heart is beyond repair.
"You're dying," she whispered, his unsteadiness, his weakness suddenly making sense. "That's why you needed to lure Emma here, and that's why you need us," she said breathlessly, the pieces connecting.
"Emma's stronger than you," growled David, putting the pieces together himself. "Even if she came—" His voice caught on the words, like they were his nightmare. "She'll defeat you."
Mary Margaret felt hope light her chest.
Emma had magic, and Pan's magic was weak.
He'd have gone after Emma himself without the need for leverage if he was stronger than her.
"Out there, yes," said Pan, that wicked smile growing, dousing the flicker of hope in Mary Margaret's chest. "But here? Where the magic of Neverland is at its strongest?" He laughed, and it sent a chill down her spine. He stepped to the side, and Mary Margaret didn't miss the stumble in his movement. But he held onto that unhinged grin, as he gestured to a pillar of rock in the center of the cave. And housed within it, was a small, dying blue flame. The light from that flame dancing off the walls of the cave was the same sort of hue that hung in the air around the whole island.
"See this?" said Pan, grinning at it. "All of Neverland's magic, concentrated into cold fire."
"Cold fire?" echoed David.
"Nothing is warm in Neverland," said Pan in such a chilling way, his smile hollow and frigid, Mary Margaret felt herself shiver. "This is the last of my magic," he said, eyes narrowing, shutting his eyes briefly with what looked like a bout of more weakness. He stumbled again, but held his hand toward the fire, and they watched as the flames licked toward him, restoring some of the color in his skin, some of the balance in his stance until he smiled, rising to his full height, the flame now smaller. He grinned wickedly at them. "Here," he said through a sick grin, "I will be stronger than your precious daughter."
Mary Margaret felt her eyes sting, her hand grabbing David's arm.
"But with you in my possession," he drawled, stepping closer to them, making Mary Margaret's hand on David's arm tighten because he wasn't stumbling even half as much as before. "Well, I doubt I'll even need to use magic." He grinned at their fear. "You act like I'm the villain," he snapped, "and yet, you gave your daughter this fate. You sealed her own demise. Twenty-eight years ago you fated her to save you, and now, you'll watch her die to fulfill it." His smile grew even more wicked. "You made her a Savior."
Mary Margaret felt her eyes sting with tears.
"Do you even know why she's called a Savior?" whispered Pan, and Mary Margaret grabbed David's arm even tighter. With that ugly, eerie smile, Pan said, "Because it takes killing a Savior to be saved."
A gasp escaped Mary Margaret's chest, a tear burning down her cheek.
Color drained from David's face.
Pan flicked his fingers, black magic dancing at his fingertips before disappearing. He grinned. "Once her heart is destroyed, mine will be restored."
Mary Margaret felt herself flinch at destroyed. David pulled her closer to him.
Pan's eyes flashed, and he stepped closer, just out of reach from them. "Perhaps I should have come to you two for advice," he drawled wickedly. "You seem to be experts at destroying Emma's heart."
Another tear burned down Mary Margaret's cheek.
Pan smiled at it.
But there was something in him - something that was past his weakness, past his own ticking clock.
He was looking at them like they were the demons.
Something compelled Mary Margaret to say, "I'm sorry your parents abandoned you."
He froze.
She'd hit the nail right on the head.
The almost irrational fury he had with them was never with them.
"You want every other child to be as miserable as you," whispered Mary Margaret, thinking of the Lost Boys, how none of them looked happy, none of them wanted to be here.
"Pan kidnaps kids in all the realms."
Pan's eyes narrowed, more furious than ever. "They shouldn't have what I didn't." he spat so sharply she and David flinched. "Their parents should have protected them. But now they and their foolish parents will feel every pain I do."
He again turned to leave.
Mary Margaret grabbed the bars. "You could help them," she stressed, eyes burning.
He stilled, eyes narrowed even sharper. "No one ever helped me." His eyes flashed. "So I've decided to help myself."
He turned to leave again, but paused, looking back at them. "Oh," he said, in a chilling casual sort of way. "There's something else I should let you know about Neverland. Perhaps it will give you something to think about; I'd hate for you to grow bored waiting for your daughter to walk into her own demise." Another wicked smile, another chill down Mary Margaret's spine. "Neverland," said Pan, "is a land of the lost and the abandoned." Another step closer to them, another flinch from both Mary Margaret and David. "Lost Ones," Pan went on, "are forced to relive their abandonment in sleep." He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing, the look in his eyes cold and dead. "Those who have abandoned, however," he said slowly, "relive their child's abandonment."
Mary Margaret stopped breathing.
Cold trailed through her, numbing everything it touched.
No.
The foster home.
The little girl.
Gods, no.
Pan smiled as the color drained from both her and David's faces, realization setting in them, something that felt like a shot to Mary Margaret's own chest.
And with that, Pan left them.
Mary Margaret felt herself stumble, the realization so painful she couldn't breathe.
"It was her?" she looked at David, who looked white as a ghost. "The l-little girl?" she choked out. "It… that was… that was Emma?"
His voice was barely audible.
Mary Margaret's mind was suddenly racing through the dream that still lingered all too heavily.
The loneliness.
The feeling of never, ever, once having been loved, by anyone.
The confusion.
The lost feeling that felt like agony.
"David," whispered Mary Margaret, voice cracking, another tear falling down her cheek.
But David didn't reply.
He turned sharply, grabbing at the cage with both hands, yanking with all of his might. Kicking, punching, attacking it with everything he had.
"David!" exclaimed Mary Margaret in surprise.
He didn't stop, not even when he grunted from the pain of repeated blows, even when his knuckles bled and the cage still didn't even so much as bend.
"David!" exclaimed Mary Margaret breathlessly, grabbing his arm, pulling him back, even when he fought her. "David—!"
"I need to save my daughter!" exploded David, finally stopping, knuckles bruised and scraped, his chest heaving.
Tears fell down his cheeks.
He stared at the cage, where it looked as if he hadn't done a damn thing.
Slowly, he looked at Mary Margaret, his eyes red and pained. "Snow," he whispered brokenly.
Mary Margaret embraced him, even as tears fell down her own face.
"We can't lose her," David half-gasped, half-sobbed into Mary Margaret's shoulder. "We can't lose her, Snow."
"We won't," she whispered. "We're going to get out of here," she said shakily. "We're going to save our daughter."
She didn't know how.
But she knew they would.
That was a promise she would die to keep.
a/n: dun dun dunnnn okay I hope the lore of this part/Pan plot/magic rules etc makes sense, to be honest I didn't want to get too much into it cause that's not really my strong suit lol. I veered a little away from the heart of the truest believer thing but again I hope it still makes sense lol.
But we've got quite the showdown next chapter! It's all written, and just needs another good edit, and it'll end up being between 8-10k, so.. Yeah. Lol. I hope to have that up by the weekend. And then, we've only got about two chapters left! Gah! I have other sequels planned however :)
Thanks for reading and I'll see you soon!
~cosette141
