Killian unleashed a wild laugh, inexplicably pleased the Lost One, the normally stoic Curly, mimicked it. Talk about one's weapon being an extension of one's self, he thought. He flicked his wrist, the tip of his hook overlapping the sword. Unable to wrench it free, Curly's eyes widened, losing concentration on the other sword. With a quick lunge and thrust, he disarmed him, the sword spinning right into the cave wall.
He ran him through, not his first, and hoped the others knew that if they truly were transporting all the Lost Boys onto the Jolly Roger, it had no room for captives.
Hurrying down the cave, he heard the raucous chatter of the Lost Boys and followed it. A few lanterns and candles lit the edges. Droplets of water plunked into the start of a river at his left. To his right, he sensed movement in the dark and ran to the sight of David lifting a boy off the ground in the layered, unimaginative Storybrooke clothes and embracing him, a protective, fatherly hold that vied with time.
"Let's go!" David yelled, setting Henry back on his feet and pointing with his sword.
"You came, too?" Henry stopped mid-run and simply stared up at Killian, the epitome of a pleasant surprise. Best lay it on thick, Killian told himself.
"Aye, and we have not been properly introduced. Captain Killian Jones, unless you prefer Hook." He bowed before dashing to the back where the last of the Lost Boys were hurrying out of the cave.
Snow let another arrow fly, exhaling when she saw it hit a Lost One in the eye. Every battle, every time, she needed to repeat to herself that this kind of killing was necessary. This was not the premeditated, utterly heartless act that was murder. This truly was the only way to bring Henry, and themselves, home.
"You had said you killed Cora because it was easy. You may believe that, but I'm calling bullshit right now," Emma had said.
"What?"
"That was one of the hardest things you ever had to do, wasn't it?" Her daughter had stepped up and immediately became the picture of hesitation, like in the old romance movies where the couple go in for a kiss but one didn't summon up enough courage. Inhaling, Emma had wrapped her arms around her. "I don't care what Regina saw when she saw your heart. No matter how dark it looked, it can't be any darker than mine."
"Thank you," was all Snow could say, tears welling in her eyes. "And I bet your heart is purer than you think."
Clearing her head, her elbow flew up into the air as she gripped another arrow, stringed it, and sent it to another enemy. It missed one of the remaining Lost Ones, landing inches from his feet. She took it as a sign to scan the fighting for Emma. She and the man, the one she must have known from when Henry was born, locked swords again. One look at his smirk at her daughter's choppy, amateur style, however effective, told Snow the exact place her next arrow needed to hit.
Chunks of ice rocketed onto the field like shooting stars, pummeling the Lost Ones. Crocodile must have used up his fireballs, Killian thought, catching up with David and the Lost Boys. An explosion of light, pinks and reds and greens, sped across the sky, forcing branches to shake. Everyone froze mid-battle, watching the light dart all around like a drunken firefly.
"That'll be him," he heard Tamara announce from the other end of the field. Peter Pan.
"Get them to the ship!" he ordered David, readying his sword once more. He only heard the beginning of Henry protesting. Regina had killed the henchmen she'd trapped, Snow White the ones she'd hit, so all that remained were Slightly and Tamara, the latter rushing towards where the former and Swan's swords still clashed.
He dodged a block of ice bigger than his head and forced himself to run past the fighting to where Greg still lied bound with muffled swearing. Slicing through the ropes with his hook, he pulled the man to his feet by the lapel of his jacket.
"What, what are you doing?"
"Stay and fight or go back to the ship with the others." He'd once told Swan to try something new, trust. He hoped now was an opportune time to take his own advice.
"Why are you doing this?" Greg blinked back a spray of water from a nearby ice chunk shattering.
"Five on two is better than four on two, mate." He took a dagger from his coat pocket and handed it to him. "And sometimes a man scorned is worse than a woman scorned. Prove me right." He slid back just in time to swat a black rectangular device out of Tamara's hand, the tip glowing blue. Regina covered Snow who was climbing down the tree. Surely once they reached them, they could overpower these two.
The lights settled on a spot just behind the trees, fading at the same time a greenish ball zoomed to them.
It was a fairy, but it was also a boy, a feral, sharp-featured boy who, upon opening his mouth to gnash his teeth at them, retained all his first teeth. His eyes were like cherries, a sweet and yet devious grin across his face. With a flick of his hand, a gust of wind, gales, swept Regina and Snow right into the tree trunks. There were two snaps, leaving Killian only able to hope that wasn't their backs.
"No!" Swan shrieked, flipping the sword in her hand and bringing the handle right down on Slightly's forehead. Stumbling two steps, he slumped into a heap onto the ground. The golden flecks in her eyes appeared again, walking towards the specter fairy with a deathly calm.
He'd realized too late he'd been distracted too long. Tamara spun around and made a break for her black device. Greg reached it first, stooping down and picking it up with his bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly, like a child.
"Greg, Owen," she tried. "We can still go back and destroy magic. All of it can be gone except fairy magic." She gasped when he toyed with her, waving it in front of her face. "I told you that my grandmother had been killed by a werewolf and no one believed me, just like no one believed you. We can go back to Storybrooke and we can start with that slutty werewolf girl, just, just think about what you're doing."
Killian turned his head, the buzz and the death throes enough.
"Swan! You can't kill him with a sword."
Her back to him, she didn't answer, just continued staring at the fairy with her sword in front of her.
"You can't have him," she said, the same white light that had hurled him across the hull emitted from her, hazier than before, slower. He preferred to think it was gaining momentum, packing a punch, rather than weakening.
"You can't kill a fairy," he said, his voice so youthful and carefree it ached to hear it.
Emma's back straightened. She lowered her sword to the ground. Her head cocked in a way as if she was remembering something from long ago.
"I don't believe in fairies."
Peter Pan broke into a scattering of sparkling dust, her white light bursting out of her, sending each grain into oblivion. He lifted his arm to keep the rays from blinding him. Silence signaled him to bring it back down, not even the chirping of a cricket in the distance. He crossed to Emma, the raggedness of her breathing tightening his chest. Every time she used magic that he'd seen, she had that dazed, half-drunk and half-petrified face, but now she just stood frozen, giving a thousand-yard stare at the largest pile of dust.
"Emma, come with me. Let's get Regina and your mother." Holding out his hand, he waited for her to take it. She followed him, taking tiny steps at first before she shook it off and hurried to the treeline. Greg ran after them.
"Mary Margaret? Mom? Mom!?" Sifting through a few fallen twigs and leaves, they barely needed to help Snow White and Regina, both able to sit up, albeit with heavy groans.
"Henry?" Regina hoisted herself up with the chips of wood just barely clinging to one of the trunks.
"David has him," Emma panted. Regina looked ten years younger, a woman ten years younger on the brink of exhaustion.
"I can't magic us onto the ship because I've already done it. Emma, if you would be so obliging?"
Henry, smudged and with his hair tousled but no worse for wear, only left the arms of his grandfathers to rush to Emma and burrow his face into her torso. Regina knelt, allowing Henry to encircle her with his arm and hold both of them. It left the Lost Boys staring with clueless, fascinated expressions at this boy that had two mothers while they had none.
"Lads!" Killian snapped at them. "Make way to sail! Find hammocks below and then help yourselves to whatever you can find in the galley. Step to!" They ran off at top speed, leaving him to wonder if he'd have been more efficient all those years with a crew of actual children than overgrown ones.
"Everyone hold onto something," Rumpelstiltskin said over the commotion. With all eyes on him, he rotated his wrist. The Jolly Roger sparkled from main mast to rudder with fairy dust. It rose in the air without so much as a wobble, slowly, slowly, slowly rising above the hills until it broke through the star-studded night, leaving Neverland a distant nightmare.
"Not as fast as a plane," Rumpelstiltskin said, using his cane to descend the stairs to the main deck. "And it will still take a day or so to get to Storybrooke, but that's adequate to everyone, I'm sure, and now...Killian," he said with a tremendous smirk. "Your ship can fly."
"Aye, now it can fly," he breathed, steadying his hand to lean over, traces of stardust sprinkled throughout the air. Fancy that, what any captain would want for his ship and his nemesis had just granted it. He allowed himself a smile and followed the Lost Boys down below decks.
Snow pulled Henry to the galley, rattling off names of food independent of thought. A mother's, grandmother's, eye caught the layer of dirt under his fingernails, the dead gnats and grains of sand trapped in his hair, the skin underneath his eyes more sallow than she'd seen before. She poured a glass of juice and handed it to him and then poured a second one without thinking.
"I'm fine, Grandma, just tired."
"Let her spoil you," Charming laughed, letting his hand plop on Henry's shoulder, giving him a quick, masculine rub.
"You drink all that up, Henry. Did they feed you? Did they hurt you?" Regina pulled the collar of his shirt, checking him.
"I'm okay, guys, really. I just can't believe you're all here. You all found me."
We will always find you, she thought, eyes misting. When they returned home, she would be a grandparent. A day of baking cookies and knitting him sweaters he wouldn't wear without prodding sounded so ideal.
"I need to tell you guys." He'd chugged the juice and picked up the second glass. "I talked to Aurora."
Snow dropped a box of crackers from the pantry. Picking it up, the floor, for a split second, melted into an inferno of sizzling flames. She snapped her eyes shut to rid herself of that memory, that room.
"You're still having dreams from the Sleeping Curse?" Emma gasped, her eyes hardening at Regina.
"Not as much, but every once in a while. They're wearing off for her, too. It's not so bad if you have a friend there." Snow glanced over at Charming and stretched her arm out to him, the final proof this was not a waking dream, revisiting that hell. Able to touch, she turned her attention back to Henry.
"My dad's alive."
"What...what do you mean 'alive'?" Emma choked out. No one moved. Snow bumped her hip on the counter on her way to Emma's side to place her hands on her shoulders.
"He's in the Enchanted Forest. They found him on a beach and are taking him to someone who's supposed to help him. We couldn't talk very long. Heavy sleep was hard here. But he's alive and when we get home, Anton can regrow the beans and we can get to him!" Henry took a breath, his face gaining more and more light. "We'll all be together!"
"That's wonderful news, Henry." Regina spoke first, and that made sense, Snow thought. It wasn't as if it was the man her daughter loved and had her heart broken by was suddenly alive. Of course, she would never wish death on anyone, and Baelfire, Neal, seemed a decent, if flawed man, and his love for Henry was genuine. Neal turned out to be a much better man than the wicked caricature she'd imagined Henry's father would be. She couldn't fault anyone for loving the same people she did. However, if she were asked advice on the matter, and she hoped she would eventually be asked, she would caution Emma about mistaking the past for the future, no matter what feelings might be lingering.
"I'm going to go up on deck and tell Mr. Gold. He'll be so excited!" Henry exclaimed.
"I'll go with you, Henry," she said. Taking his hand, they hurried out to the deck.
Her cabin door shut, her back against it, Snow held her hand over her heart and sighed. She could feel it, the dark spot, growing smaller and smaller. She'd felt Rumpelstiltskin's joy after seeing the tears in his eyes, how he clutched the rail and then threw his arms around Henry. Empathy was an experience reserved for those with good hearts, she knew, and it wasn't just that she knew exactly how it felt to see one's child after an eternity apart. Perhaps in a way, they could all be together. Ideas of a full, loving...albeit wacky...Thanksgiving ran through her mind. With Charming at the helm, she was nowhere near ready for sleep, so she opened the door and nearly collided with Hook, who was peering into the middle cabin, his face vague.
Chancing teasing, she tiptoed next to him and looked into the cabin. Henry lay asleep in one of the bunks with Emma on her side, asleep and with her head on her son's shoulder.
A/N: The source material itself, Peter Pan, explicitly states that every time someone says "I don't believe in fairies," a fairy somewhere dies. If Peter Pan's demise seemed a little too easy ("Easy? You call that easy?" cried Han Solo), rest assured the characters need this reunion and breather because some serious stuff is about to go down!