"Killian! No, no, Killian, stay with me…"

But his eyes are already falling closed, his breathing labored and uneven, his face paler than she had ever seen it…and it was her fault.

It wasn't the Black Knights, not this time. No, this time they had been set upon by cutthroat bandits, masks obscuring their faces. It had been Mary's mirror they had been after, apparently spotting her gazing at it, once again watching her family's lives unfold without her. She hadn't realized how valuable it was until suddenly there were arrows whizzing through the air, and a man had snatched her up and was holding a knife to her neck. The rest of it had happened so quickly, events and actions blurring before her—Killian slashing at her captor with his sword, the mirror slipping from Mary's grasp and her diving desperately to catch it before it hit the forest floor and shattered, Killian screaming at her to run once the mirror was safely back in her bag. And then, the arrow that had grazed his ribs as the bandits retreated, apparently not thinking their prize worthwhile after all…or else knowing that enough damage had already been done.

At first, Mary hadn't been able to see what the problem was—it was just a scratch, after all, a small gash that could easily be healed. She had once asked Sybil for a few lessons in rudimentary first aid after her sister had completed her nurses training (more to make Sybil feel at ease in her abilities than anything else, although she herself had been curious) and was sure that she could dress the wound at least long enough for them to seek real help. But instantly the gash had turned nasty, the skin around it a mottled purple as Killian's breathing began to grow more labored, sweat breaking out across his forehead. "Poison," he choked out. "The arrow…must've been poisoned."

Dreamshade, had been Mary's first thought. But no, Killian had been sent to Neverland to retrieve Dreamshade because it could only be found on that little mythical island. From what Killian had told her of the deadly plant, it wasted no time laying its victims to waste, so surely if it was Dreamshade he would already be dead. No, this poison had to be something else…but Mary still had to act quickly.

Now, she has somehow managed to half-carry, half-drag him to the stream nearby, fear and adrenaline putting new strength into her limbs. She has washed the wound as best she can, tried to stop the bleeding, but his strength still seems to ebb by the minute. She holds his face in her hands, lightly slapping and stroking his stubbled cheeks by turn, trying to keep him awake. "Come on, Killian, stay with me," she says, her voice rising frantically. "Stay awake, stay with me…"

He coughs feebly, his parched lips moving as if to speak. "What is it?" Mary asks, her heart in her throat. "What is it, darling, just tell me…"

"The…flowers," he whispers, his voice so faint she can barely hear it. "They could help…they say…healing properties…"

"Which flowers?" Mary asks. "Killian, which flowers?"

"You can do this, Mary."

"No I can't!" she protests, but he's already gone, consciousness leaving him as his breaths slow even more. Mary scrambles to her feet, gathering as many pale blue blossoms from along the streambed as she can carry before running back to his side. Unsure of quite what to do, she crushes a few of the delicate petals between her fingers, creating a paste that she smears gently onto the wound. She holds her breath, waiting, watching…

He suddenly gasps for breath, coughing, trying to expel the poison from his lungs. "More," he instructs, and Mary obeys, until the bleeding is stopped and the sickly color is gone from his skin. Her heart still races, but the color is returning to Killian's face, and he offers her a shaky smile.

"That's my girl."