"No, Mary."
"But I want to see it!"
"Not a chance, love."
"It's my mirror. I can look if I want to."
"Lass…" Killian gives an exasperated sigh, shaking his head. "I've already told you, it's not the Neverland you know from your stories. It's much, much darker than that. It's a living nightmare, ruled over by the most ruthless villain I've ever had the misfortune of facing…"
Mary arches an eyebrow. "Worse than the Dark One?" she asks pointedly.
Killian seems to pale. "Perhaps that was a rather strong comparison. I'd say they're rather evenly matched, actually. But Pan is cunning, crafty—"
"As is Rumpelstiltskin. If I can handle that, I think I can handle a glimpse through a magic mirror at the land I've read about."
He huffs another sigh. "Fine. If you wish. But I cannot promise it will be a pretty picture."
"I have more bravery than you give me credit for, Killian," Mary says softly before turning to the mirror in her lap. "Show me Neverland," she instructs.
The scene unfolds as it always does, with her own image rippling and fading until the new picture takes its place. She bites her lip and frowns as a darkened landscape takes shape before her eyes, all wild jungle and flickering torches and the shouts of boys she cannot see. So far, it is not entirely unlike the Neverland she used to picture in her mind, the scenes she had witnessed when her father had taken her and her sisters into London to see J.M Barrie's work upon the stage. It is darker than she had expected, but other than that, she does not see the hellish world Killian has described to her so many times.
"The Lost Boys," Killian explains when they hear another raucous whoop. "Worship Pan like he's some sort of god. Trust me, he's a bloody demon."
There is a rustling, and a face appears in the mirror's glass. Mary leans forward eagerly, half-hoping to catch a glimpse for herself of the boy who would never grow old, but the sight that greets her instead is even more exciting.
Blonde hair swept up into a bun. A fiercely determined yet playful expression. An air of magic and mystery that Mary can feel even through the mirror's glass.
"Ah," Killian comments. "The Lady Bell."
Mary's eyes fill with excited tears. Suddenly she is a little girl again, perched on the edge of her theatre seat, watching a little light flicker back to life on the stage,
"I do believe in fairies," she whispers now, touching the mirror's cold surface. "I do. I do."