Our Hearts Are Monsters
“A deal?” Hades asked, Peter nodded. He would trade her story for his passage out. Macaria, was Pan's soft spot, the girl who could bottle the sea and hold the world hostage if she wanted to. But it wasn't in her nature, just as it wasn’t in his nature to grow up. He had to let her go. Far away from him, and far away from her father.
Part 1 and Part 2
A/N: There really isn’t much Pan in this one, but he will be in a future part. I think there should be at least 1-2 more chapters yet. And I’m to be real honest, I’m not totally happy with how this part turned out. It’s kind of different than the other two chapters were set up. Possibly because I had a majority of this wrote and sitting for a long ass time. But I will be finishing this and hope someone enjoys it yet.
Part 3
ISLAND OF THE BLESSED
How does this THING WORK? Neal tried skipping rocks, talking to it, pulling weeds around it, trying to see if there was a magical lever or button.
He was frustrated.
He had watched Sunny time and time again be able to recall paths, see memories and watch events in past, present, and future; but he had never bothered to ask her how to make it work. It appeared so easy for her.
It should have been easy for him. He just wanted to know what was going on. Was Pan loose? Did the others make it back? What was her father up to?
He had been tempted to find McKinley. Sunny had left her son in the care of a trio of old women. The sweetest grandmothers he probably ever met honestly; they were overjoyed to take care of a child while waiting for their own families to join them. He didn’t have the heart to tear that little boy from those doting ladies, at least not now.
“FUCK!” He paced around the body of water, only to stop mid stride in the other direction. Neal was vexing at his lack of progress. He just wanted to see Sunny…to see Emma…to see his dad.
“I was supposed to see Bae, not-not this.” Rumple remarked, sullen at his confession.
Papa? That was the voice of Rumpelstilskin.
“Zelena, that evil-vile-putrid creature…she…ruined everything!” Rumple roared with a hostile swish of his dagger. Trinkets flew violently across the shop, while glass panes broke with sporadic bursts.
Neal turned again; his father’s anger so clearly felt he nearly flinched from it. He could hear the anguish in his voice. He looked down, nearly elated and morose that the pond had done what he had asked. But this image in the swirling water appeared distorted.
“DAMN IT!”
“Papa!” Neal dropped down to his knees, hoping his father could hear him. “Papa, what’s wrong!”
STORYBROOKE: GOLD’S SHOP
Someone was in the shop, a spasm in his bum leg told him that much. If it were Hades he wouldn’t stand much of a chance against the god, but the Dark One wouldn’t go down easy. Anyone foolish enough to bother him would feel his wrath.
Sunny was… clumsy to say the least. She had walked into a cabinet in a giddy fever. She was uncertain as much as she was nervous. Her father had directed her toward the Dark One, Bae’s father, Peter’s son.
Mr. Gold would have the answers she sought…
Where was Peter?
“Are you here to threaten me?” A derisive sneer bit at his thin lips. She jumped, surprised by the sudden voice, and rubbed her arm awkwardly, trying to think of a reply.
Rumple was rattled at seeing her.
The girl, mangled with time and a rather unfortunate curse. Something familiar in her twinkling green eyes, just as his papa had shown him. Her appearance didn’t frighten him as much as her presence in his shop, his sanctuary. Had Hades sent her? Had she come of her own volition?
“That’s not what I had intended, I um... had just wanted to talk.” Rumple flinched when he connected eyes with the girl. Hades’ daughter was in his shop. “Hello Mr. Gold, my name is-”
“Macaria-” Rumple interrupted.
Sunny smiled sweetly, keeping her sights on Rumple, who looked unnerved by her approach. He recoiled from her touch, but that hadn't dissuaded her initiative. Her green eyes immediately filled with pity for her pseudo son. Ire filled his own stare back as she reached for him once again.
“DON’T TOUCH ME!” He hastily swung at her, as if he was trying to disperse an illusion. She didn’t even cower, just dodged skillfully from experience.
"You are in so much pain. And it's okay. You're safe here." She whispered.
There were subtle nuances in Rumple’s anger, where she could see Peter in his features. She desperately wanted to reach out and connect with some semblance of her lost love, whether it would be his smile or temper. It would be real enough…even for a moment…to ease the loneliness buried deep within her heart.
"Do you value your life so little?" She dared to call him weak? "Do you know who I am?"
She nodded, sliding her palm up from his chest to caress his face.
"Rumple, I've been here all along." She paused, now clearing her throat. "And I do not fear dying. Death is my friend."
He was bewildered by this ominous woman. Her words were softly spoken but held little comfort.
Death was her friend?
The way her puckered scars stretched as she announced this added to the uneasiness of her truths. Gold's eyes shone as if seeing her for the first time.
“I was hoping we could talk about your father, Peter Pan.”
"Hope. A ridiculous notion really, there is no more hope. Nothing you could have done would have saved your precious Pan from his fate." He spat at her. She was wasting his time, and who in the hell was this girl to him? “Peter Pan wasn’t all powerful, he didn’t even manage to prevent his death, twice by my hand, no less!” He stormed away, heavily padded across the wooden floor toward the back room.
“Twice?” She whispered with remorse; her world seemed to spiral as she scurried behind him. Was Peter not coming? Was Peter okay in the Underworld? What did Rumple do?!
Rumple turned on a dime, ready to unleash a vicious tirade on this pathetic girl. The girl abruptly stopped, slamming into the doorway. Her feet hadn’t caught onto his action as fast as her mind had. “Do you know why he surrounded himself with children?”
She flinched, wrenching her hands back and forth anxiously, “Because he-“
“Because he was weak. BECAUSE HE WAS INTIMIDATED BY MEN! He was a foolish, impotent man... He surrounded himself with children to feel powerful. He couldn’t handle being a father, he couldn’t-” Rumple cursed. Angry, shameful tears glistened in the corner of his eyes. Pain shot through his bad leg causing him to clench the nearest display case.
He would not cry over his father; he wouldn’t allow it. That man already had taken too much of Rumple’s time, through spilt tears, misguided wishes, and downright loathing. Rumple would have been better off if he had abandoned him after his mother had.
He noticed Hades’ daughter tremble. Her teeth gnashed between the broken parts of her lips, nasty, nasty little urchin.
She was blubbering in silence. Peter wasn’t coming back. She was never going to see Peter again…never…ever…again.
A seedy discomfort wormed its way into his stomach, something about a girl crying, it made Rumple hesitate. “He isn’t worth your tears.” He added, hoping to assuage her.
Self-preservation.
Her green eyes glared directly into his. “But he is worth yours?” Rumple stepped toward her, before he thought better of it. He may want to scream and belittle her, but he should think better of attacking someone that could influence death even without the threat of his dagger.
“Why did you kill him again?” Why would he turn down a chance to make amends with his father? Had he given up after losing Baelfire again? Rumpelstiltskin owed her that much.
“Because he didn’t deserve to exist! He tried to convince me that death had changed him. He was still the greedy, arrogant bastard he always was.” Rumple seethed.
“But he could have-
He waged a finger in front of her face, “You see only the best in people, people are vile, greedy beasts.”
“Over time he-
He cut her off once again, “What makes you so truly believe he could have changed?”
“Because I did.” She answered, feeling rather small.
This pitiful girl, Rumple thought, his father had been sowing seeds long before…his heart ached, this misguided girl never had a chance. “You’re more invested in your delusions than I had originally thought.”
“Peter loves me!” She shouted, nearly shaking with rage.
“LOVED, dearie, past tense. If he or any of the others ever loved you at all.”
CHIP.
“Hades.” Rumple spat with disdain.
He needed to distract Macaria before she knew what was truly happening. What errand should he send her on?
“Papa, are you alright?” Sunny asked, after watching her father’s face turn dark.
He nodded, “yes my darling girl, yes... I just thought of something.” She internally groaned. She knew her love had always come at a price. “Think of it as a favor.”
“Peter Pan.” Rumple spat out his name as if it was dirt beneath him.
“Peter, I don’t like doing this anymore. I’m tired of hurting others-
His face was suddenly inches from her own, “Well, then you’re free to leave.” He pointed toward the entrance of the camp. Her shoulders tensed. Peter sounded upset with her. Why did she have to say that?
“Never mind, you were saying Peter?”
“Everyone you have ever loved will disappoint you because you ignored their flaws in favor of the little kindness, they bequeathed you.”
CHIP.
Macaria flew out of Mr. Gold’s shop, putting as much distance between her and the slam of his shop’s door. The way he spoke about her family was more hurtful than anything he could have done to her.
Because for a moment, she believed.
STORYBROOKE: WANDERING AROUND
Sunny had decided to climb the trees around her. They were barer than she felt they should be. No matter, she just wanted to take in the very essence of their life. Nature in their finer elements, the never-ending circle of life. The sun gave the tree life, and the tree in turn made oxygen for its people. She spotted a harbor. Perhaps the water wouldn't be too chilly. It could maybe cool the fire burning in her heart.
She had believed in every heartbreaking word he threw out so seamlessly without hesitation.
It felt like decades had passed since her feelings wavered from what she knew and comforted her.
"Macy?" A rather boyish tone questioned her. She turned toward the visitor standing only a few feet from her. He was tall and lanky, not nearly finished with growing.
Did she know him?
His boots were familiarly hand crafted, stitched of pelts and leather, but his clothes were more modern. His trousers were dark in color and looked soft to the touch, while his overcoat puffed and bubbled out with a glossy sheen.
The face seemed similar, almost reminiscent of Lord Magnus. Even the eyes were the amber brown as she remembered. But there was a youthfulness, a softness in his reflection that seemed off? "Sunny?" She twitched at the name Peter had given her. Her mouth turned upward into a grin.
"Marcus, is that you?" He heaved a sigh he hadn't realized he had been holding. After all this time, she was standing here in front of him like the day she had left. His hands caressed her face, trying to banish her happy tears.
Over time he had forgotten the details and contours of her mangled face. Only her loving, green gaze was clear enough to remain in his fading memories. Her callous hands gripped the edge of his face. "I've missed you brother."
“I’ve missed you too.” She smiled, moving her hands down to tug on his own. “Walk with me. Tell me everything? How long have you been here? How old are you now?”
It had felt like a millennia since the two siblings had spoken to each other without guilt or a sense of urgency.
By the time they had reached the edge of the forest from the beach where they had started, Sunny had decided to finally pause. It was quite cold for whomever had been following in the distance. “Who is your little friend?” Sunny asked, waving at the woods. She knew whomever it was just shy. She could hear the little tramping of boots and giggling.
“Friend?” Marcus stated in general confusion. Sunny smiled, pointing toward an overgrown willow.
“He has been following since about a click back.” Marcus’s eyes narrowed. “Arthur!” He hollered, causing the giggling too abruptly to cease. It was hard to contain her amusement, nearly snorting as she heard mumbling from the tree. “Arthur, you might as well come out or go home. It’s cold out here.” “Marcus, I'm just trying to see your friend.” The boy named Arthur stared at the ground guiltily as Marcus sighed. “Arthur...” Marcus chided, pinching the skin between his brows. Sunny dropped down to look at the boy from his level. He was short in stature, maybe 7 or 8 years old. His face seemed familiar, almost cherub-like in nature. But she hadn’t remembered anyone named Arthur. “Tootles?” She quietly asked. “Sunny!” The boy practically shrieked in delight. He had never forgotten his den mother. She had been gone so long. Sunny laughed as the boy nearly knocked her over with his excited embrace. A flurry of anxious limbs and feverish babbling kept her steadfast. She hadn’t thought any of the boys had remembered her so. She smoothed down Tootles’ hair and patted him gently as he held her tight. “Oh, Tootles. It will be alright. Remember tears- “Get me nowhere.”
She nodded, wiping his eyes with her sleeve. “Peter wants us to be brave.” He whispered, as she nodded in agreement.
Peter couldn’t stand the tears of the boys. Something about a sniveling child made him uneasy. He would also grow restless the nights the boys would cry for their parents the loudest. Sunny always made a point to distract Peter when he returned to camp in a foul mood. In hindsight, it probably reminded him too much of Rumple. He had been a weepy child from what she had observed from her pond. “Macy? Would you want to accompany me back with Arthur? If I don’t walk him back, he will try to get himself into more trouble.” She nodded, straightening back up. She offered her hand to Tootles, which he gladly accepted. “Perhaps you could tell me something about this land?” She inquired as he swung her hand and skipped alongside her. “Did you know that they have jungle cats here? Oh, oh! But they’re small and fluffy and make weird buzzing noise, and... uh, they have their own food! Like go and pick up cat food? Isn't this great!" She laughed, delighted to hear childish enthusiasm. His jubilation was brilliant as it was naïve. His giggles were as fulfilling as the elation he had showing her the pouch from his pocket. "Oh, and have you played marbles?! It's like the funniest game ever. We should play!"
His smile was so infectious, she could hardly say no.
"Do you have enough for us to play?" He nodded quickly, digging through the pouch.
"I haven't lost any, I promise!"
“Better not!” Another boy scolded Tootles as the three of them entered an alleyway leading to a stairwell. “I spent a lot of time trying to find them before.” The boy stopped, his eyes growing wide. “Sun-
“Thud butt!” Sunny squealed, snatching the teenage boy. His cheeks felt hot. He certainly had grown taller, and much of his previous baby fat was disappearing.
“It’s Raushan now.”
“You’ve grown to be so handsome.”
“Sunny?” As soon as she let go of Raushan, more boys came tumbling her way. “Devin!” She hugged the boy tightly. “Darien!” She exclaimed, pouncing on the next boy. “Nibs!”
ISLAND OF THE BLESSED
“Oh, you finally did figure out how to get this to work. I thought it would have taken you more time, nephew.”
Neal froze, his eyes bewildered. His previous attempts to view the current situation in Storybrooke quickly forgotten.
What…how…who, what was going on?
This teen? This slightly gangly, wisp of a man reminded him dearly of his own father and Peter Pan; why?
“McKinley?” He laughed; his tone was deeper than he had imagined. “Why do…do you look like this?” Neal clutched this boy, his eyes investigating, exploring every inch of his features. “McKinley how…how are you this old?”
The teen laughed at his nephew Baelfire bepuzzlement. “This is my chance to express myself, to grow.” He shook from Baelfire’s grasp, understanding his shock.
“But you’re a child?” His head was swimming. This age progression stuff was going to make his head explode.
“Am I really? We both know we aren’t the age we appear to be.”
STORYBROOKE: LOST BOYS CLUBHOUSE
As stories dwindled between the group, it was a familiar and comfortable silence that fell between them. A feeling they hadn’t had in quite some time. But Sunny didn’t want to fall into her thoughts and doubts, she had come along in hopes of a distraction.
Sitting up in the pile of blankets she had found herself in, she turned toward Marcus who had been quietly smiling at her.
“How about we play a game for old times’ sake?”
“We could go bird hunting?” A gasp made the crew of boys turn toward Tootles who avoided the other boy’s eyes, staring at the floor with an embarrassed intensity.
Nibs held his hands up apologetically, “I mean like actual pigeon hunting, not what you’re thinking!”
Tootles lifted his pouch in protest, still unable to meet the other boy’s eyes, “We could play marbles.”
“We’re too old for that.” Slightly was aghast by the suggestion, Sunny couldn’t help but snort. She bowed her head, trying to hold her laughter in.
Marcus held in a laugh himself, this was the happiest he had been in a while. “How about hide and seek? First one caught has to jump into the water.”
A chorus of shaking heads and excitement roared through the clubhouse, submerging in open water during the winter sounded like a fitting punishment for the first loser.
Next thing was to determine where should set the play area and a time limit, if they were going to pick somewhere outside, they would have to dress warm and avoid being out too late...per Sunny’s concerns.
About half an hour later, the boys were bundled and ready to run wild. They had decided that the forest would be big enough area to hide in and they would have a 40-minute time limit. Being exposed to the colder climate for long period was not ideal.
Before she could reach the handle for the door, it flew open with such force that the whole group were knocked back on their asses and some clear across the room. Coming face to face with a desperate savior, Marcus shouted, “SCATTER! NOW!”
The fervor of footsteps and the slamming of doors and windows most of the boys disappeared in a matter of seconds.
“Macaria?!” Emma screeched.
Startled, she pointed to herself. “Me? Uh…yes?”
Before she could blink, a sword was pressed against her throat.
“You need to go to city hall!” Emma demanded, while Sunny looked over her with disdain. This is the woman that Bae loved. Threaten now, talk later type?
This woman was jaded and headstrong. Peter had taught her to seek the details out in tight situations. It could be a matter of life or death to do so.
Sunny focused on Emma’s armor, a defensive, well-worn, and well-loved leather coat. The savior was feeling rather vulnerable, gripping it tightly in her free hand. Emma’s gaze turned toward her brother who had stood beside her in solidarity. She needed the attention focused back on her and not Marcus. Emma had others behind her.
Sunny tilted her head, causing the tip of the blade to slice an irritated, angry line across her throat. “Would you like to give me matching scars? Go ahead Savior.” The Marcus shivered; his sister never spoke like this, not aggressively at the least. His heart was pounding, her tone echoed similar to her grief after Rubio’s death. “Emma, you can’t do that.” Mary Margaret warned. Emma’s eyes darted back from her mother’s worried face to the voided eyes of her target. She sighed, sheathing the sword.
Sunny was... rather...disappointed by this outcome. She had thought meeting the savior would be… less anticlimactic. She was beautiful, with her cascading blonde locks and determination. But she was unable to follow through, a pity really.
“Are you going to explain what you want and why you’re asking in such a rude manner?” She gestured to the room, “This isn’t even my territory that you busted into.”
She was relieved the boys had left, they didn’t need to be involved in this matter.
Behind Emma, Charming agreed with her sentiment, bowing in his daughter’s place. “We apologize for barging in like this.”
“Marcus, how did we treat trespassers on Neverland? Was it one or two fingers that were taken?”
“Macy!” Marcus hissed. That name, and his scolding tone made her flinch.
Her behavior was scaring him, to say the least. They had avoided one meltdown, only for the Savior to possibly start another of monster proportions. Pan had always had his sister’s back, and he didn’t know how to remedy this situation. He placed a firm, but gentle hand on her shoulder. Macaria was a kind soul, never asking for anything, even as she was starved and beaten harshly for every discretion. And even though he had been too cowardly to protect her, she cherished him. But if she felt any harm was to come toward him or the other boys, he gulped, he knew exactly what terrible things Macy would do in the wake of her despair. She quieted, looking toward his feet in shame. “I’m sorry Sunny, I didn’t mean to lash out. I-I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret.” He apologized. She nodded. Her weary eyes connected with his. Her brother had grown so much, and she had missed it. This tall handsome boy would be a great man one day. A resourceful and kind Lord, unlike his father.
“What do you want, Emma?”
“You need to stop your father.” Sunny’s face just dropped.
STORYBROOKE: MAYOR’S OFFICE
Death had dropped her into a situation without a moment to spare. She gasped. Her father had the crystal pointed high, threatening Zelena’s sister and former lover.
The power radiating from the crystal seized all control from her, fear gripped her insides. Her very existence could be forever erased.
Hades froze time, expending a majority of his power to do so. He sighed as he turned toward his heartbroken daughter. The disbelief in her green eyes was misplaced. It pained him as much as it annoyed him.
“What are you doing? I…I thought…” she hiccupped, “I thought you wanted to be a family.” She shielded her face, trying to hide her tears.
Pesky girl, he sneered, too smart for her own good. Hades easily cornered his daughter, his breathing erratic. He couldn’t lose her this soon. Pan spoke of her misery, reveled in tales of her bloodshed, yet it appeared his daughter had lost all nerve.
“Macaria, you need to see, we need to protect ourselves. If we leave ourselves vulnerable, they will come for us.” He cradled her trembling face between his hands.
“Who will come for us?” She gestured to the Olympian Crystal, “Who would dare hunt us when we have the ability to kill a god?” She could feel the pulsing of power, the pulsing of murderous intent.
“I tried to keep them from us, but my brothers... Zeus and Poseidon have once again found others to fight in their place.” He yelled in rapid fire, his arm raised at Robin and Regina. She didn’t understand where this resentment had come from. In mere hours her tearful and joyous reunion had been replaced with malice and harbored loathing. Had the Dark One been right all along? Was her love really that blind? CHIP. Tears bit the corner of her eyes. She ached as each miserable drop fell. She was so stupid. “You’re so bitter, you can’t see what is right in front of you.” His hand wiped the tears, his face full of stern determination.
“Do you forgive the family that maimed you? Did you forget those who kept us separate all this time?” She placed her scarred hand on top of his and smiled at him as no person had in several decades. The radiance of her smile and gentle sincerity made Hades’ determination waver…slightly.
“But we have now. We have each other.” He embraced her, running a free hand through her tangled hair. This girl, his girl was too precious to handle what was to happen. Her naïveté and optimism could be detrimental to his revenge. He let out a heavy breath, keeping this state was taxing on his magic.
If she couldn’t see his vision now…he may have to sideline her until she understood what sacrifices he had to make for their safety, for his vengeance. He whispered, “You’re not my only child, biologically yes, spiritually no, just the one I need to shift the balance of power. So, until then, you’re on a timeout.” She gagged, the binding spell crawling across her skin like a swarm of ants.
She cried out, “But father, we-I, why would you do this?” He dreaded having to do this to her.
“To protect us! To gain our revenge!”
“No...” Her refusal sounded smaller than she felt. “No, no, no.” Her heart screamed with terror as Hades ripped back the veil, trapping her in a space no one else could reach her.
“I didn’t want to have to do this, Macaria. But either you are with me, or by default, against me. I had hoped for the former. Once I build our kingdom, you will see.”
“Papa, please, papa. Don’t leave me here,” she begged, tears streaming down her deformed cheeks.
“You have no dominion over me, nor do my brothers. You have to see this, Macaria, this is for us.” He dropped his hand, imprisoning her.
“NO! NO! PAPA NO!” Sunny roared, pounding the walls of her cage. She didn’t have the ability to travel without assistance. She couldn’t peel back the veil between worlds, she didn’t have that strength.
She was alone and utterly helpless. She could only watch the scene before her.
“Oh sorry. Ladies first.” The blast of the crystal was bright, and its power was enough to ring through their ears.
“NO!”
She could feel the destruction, the decay, the nothingness. Her father was erasing a soul, forcing the unnatural.
“Death, please help me. Help me stop him.”
I cannot assist, Macaria, this must play out, as it is, as it was, and how it began.
The crystal dropped to the floor in their struggle, Sunny could see-
“But she’ll kill him! She will!” She shook Death’s robe with everything she could muster. He couldn’t let this happen again, no, not in front of her.
“Zelena!” Hades shouted, before he was reduced to a pile of cinders. The decay of his soul was too much for Sunny to bear. His existence was erased…forever. CHIP. CHIP. CHIP.
Zelena and Regina stood in twin horror as Hades’ daughter hit the marble floor with a resounding thud. Had she been here the entire time? Would she be able to forgive them?
ISLAND OF THE BLESSED
“You were on that island for more than a century. And my mother had only been there a handful of years during your stay. And you now know the reason for her departure…”
Neal had to sit down, as McKinley continued, “Besides there is something…ironic…no poetic about how this family values the gift of youth.” His nephew’s statement had him so mad he was ready to spit blood.
“How old are you?” McKinley shrugged, plopping down next to Neal. He started swirling the images in pond while mulling over his answer. “Give or take seventy or eighty years, I think. I mean no one knows when I exactly was born other than my mother.” He threw the stick and leaned back on his hands. Closing his eyes he added, “I’m not really sure anymore, when you get that age your memory starts to fade unfortunately.”
God, what happened to this family?
Neal marveled over the fact that McKinley had already lived a full life, when just a gangly teenager sat before him.
“Do you know why she did this? I just can’t understand.”
McKinley’s mop of brown hair lulled to one side, smiling at his uncle. “Mom prefers me as a child, although it does become tiring to celebrate your sixth birthday so frequently. It was only interesting the first few times that we had a party.”
“I think the last one was Neverland themed.”
Neal gulped, terror spreading across his face. She kept him young, for McKinley to stay depend on her? What, to cure her loneliness?
He understood that look from a child, being loved by the eyes that only show for him, but she can’t force that.
She can’t.
Neal was at a loss for words, frustrated, he ran his hands anxiously through his hair.
Why was life like this? No…why was the afterlife like this too?
Was all his friends and family certifiable psychos? What the hell did he just listen to? How could Sunny, no, how could Macaria do that to her son?!
“Last question.”
“Shoot.” McKinley’s finger guns made him chuckle bitterly.
“Do you want to live a life without your mother this time?”
STORYBROOKE: IN HIDING
Love wasn't enough. Zelena and she weren't enough. She could have had a younger sister, a baby for McKinley to play with. Sunny kept her distance from the heroes. She had no right to join them. They didn’t know her, and she personified everything that they came to mourn. Her father and her love were nothing more than a conduit of evil and greed.
Dressed in mourning black, accompanied by death's veil, fat tears rolled down her cheeks.
It was wet and crisp in the graveyard. She observed each one lay an arrow to rest on Robin's casket. Devastation was wafting through the procession in equal strokes. Sunny watched them depart one by one, leaving the savior there to mourn alone.
Her back was twitching as she tried to rein in haggard breaths. This woman standing in the rain, soaking in her misery, made her heart lurch in her chest. Baelfire. He wouldn't want this for Emma, the mother of his child, to suffer like this anymore. She had lost so much.
Death disappeared.
A tingle in her spine, a rattle in her bones, something was happening. Hook appeared not ten feet from Emma. The savior embraced him cheerfully as Sunny’s mood soured.
Fury, unaltered fury. Sunny turned to where Death reappeared.
Her fingers clenched and she released a slow, calculated breath through her nostrils. “Haven’t you taken enough from me?”
Macaria, please it is beyond my-
She shook her head and stormed away from the cemetery, unable to stomach her heartache.
It had taken several days of coaxing for Sunny to even come out of the forest. Marcus wasn’t sure if he would have been able to convince her if it hadn’t been for Tootles and the others. She hid from the others, and they allowed her to do so.
Sunny spent her time, staying on guard above the boy’s clubhouse. She needed to protect…no one… She wiped her tears away; she wouldn’t let anyone see her this weak.
“This is a delicate time; we shouldn’t approach her so hastily.” Snow White warned, as Emma and she skulked up the street toward the Lost Boy’s lair. Sunny lifted her head when she heard their voices, her heart hammering away in her chest.
The last time she had listened to these heroes, she had lost more than she ever wanted to admit.
“I’ve seen Hook accept dangerous and frightening situations with smarmy pirate pride… but it wasn’t like that this time.” Emma panicked when she witnessed Killian’s legs give out beneath him. His face pale and developed a cold sweat. He hadn’t even tried to hide his fear with false bravado.
Snow squeezed her daughter’s hand. Emma continued to revel in her fears, the fact the girl was Hades’ blood had little to do with Hook’s paralysis; it was when she repeated the name…Sunny…that made Killian flinch.
Hook could only muster one truth to her as he shook in her arms, he had wronged that girl in a way she would never forgive him.
“I-I just got Killian back, and I’m not letting anyone, or anything take him away.” Her fist clenched, as she wiped her face.
A smart decision, Sunny mused, the savior’s tears were too precious to leave unprotected. To think their hesitation was due to her ‘feelings’. What good would appeasing her do now? The savior pushed forward, disregarding her mother’s advice.
“What if she comes for revenge? She is Hades’ daughter, and Pan’s ex.” The creases in her forehead furrowed further as all the what ifs plagued her mind.
“Emma, she has lost so much in so little time. Perhaps what she really needs-”
“What, a shoulder to cry on?” The Charmings flinched. Sunny was far from surprised, she was always the monster. “To welcome a mother’s understanding touch. To be coddled and comforted like a child?” Their sympathetic stares already twisted knots in her stomach, she wouldn’t accept their pity.
“If you gaze upon my beautiful face, you’ll understand the cost of being close to my mother.” Her cheeks burned as she turned from their stares of disbelief. Their need to comfort and protect were written so plainly. “Besides, I’m not the teenager you perceive me to be. I’ve been a mother longer than you’ve been alive, curse or no curse.”
Emma raised her hands; she knew she was in the wrong. Panicking made the situation considerably worse than she had intended. “I came here to ask a favor. Please?”
STORYBROOKE: THE DOCKS
"Hello Captain." A sweet voice spoke to the right of him.
Killian clenched his rum bottle a little tighter. It was a voice he hadn’t heard in many years. A shy melody that had haunted him in a past life. The countenance that silently stood in his nightmares. A girl, who scared him just as much as her former lover. "Your reaction seems to be the customary greeting for me." The captain snorted, unable to keep himself from doing so. Not the sort of chivalry he tried recently to be known for.
He could see the rage simmering below the surface. This girl was restraining herself. "Did you truly want to chat, or do you do whatever your girlfriend bids you to do?"
He remained tight lipped. Emma was not up for discussion. He would rather die than speak about her to such...his hard glare met her solemn figure. Her face was still as brutal and mangled as the last day his eyes had settled on her. It reflected the monster within.
“Do you remember dying, Captain?” She asked so softly, it made Killian’s skin crawl. This wicked girl could be so delicate about such gruesome topics.
He sighed, “Not my most pleasant memories, I’m afraid.”
She leaned against the rail, resting her head on her arm. Those deceptively green pits were boring holes into him as she contemplated her response to his own.
“Was it the betrayal or was it just the fact you would die a hero too soon?” She noticed the pirate’s knuckle whiten. He lifted the bottle higher, polishing off the rest of the liquor. “It can be a wonderfully freeing concept once your mind finally succumbs to death’s hold.”
“You shouldn’t speak about something you haven’t experienced.” Killian placed the bottle back into his inner coat pocket.
She studied his tense posture, “I feel every death, all of it. Whether by my hand or not. I can read everyone’s last moments. For you in particular,” she smiled again, grotesque and sinister as it was, “it certainly wasn’t punishment enough.”
"Why are you here? Ready to do me in yourself?" He joked.
"What happened to the man that had wanted to save me all those years ago?" A statement that if said by another would sound endearing, but from her, he knew better than to believe the false sincerity.
There was always something...unnerving about Pan’s girl. Killian had figured it was because of her association to him; but now, he was certain it was her presence altogether. From what Emma described, she was an emblem of death all on her own.
The misfortune of her lips could not shadow the ominous presence in her bold green gaze.
Did he flee from her father’s torture only to be cast down by her malevolence?
“Still doing Pan’s bidding from the grave?”
“You think it, as if I had no real feelings of my own?” She tapped her fingers along the rail. She was impatient. She hadn’t liked being cornered, but the savior had wanted them to bury the hatchet.
Her eyes flashed dangerously at the pirate. Tick tock, Captain, tick tock.
“Even now, nearly a century later, you speak his words, and know none of his truths.” She laughed bitterly, a divisive guffaw. This pirate was so bold in challenging her belief.
Everyone doubting Peter, doubting her by proxy, she wasn’t dense.
“His truths, Captain? That we’re murderers... that we were burdens to our family... to the community, the land?” Killian avoided her glare, “or are you afraid of your truth?”
Killian didn’t like the feel of her scarred fingers digging into the skin of his chest. His heart beating wildly beneath her touch. He watched many good men die from a feathering touch from those very fingertips. He knew Emma was nearby, but nothing could save him from Sunny’s ire.
And he deserved all of it, rightly so.
“No. But I fear for what you will do in return, love. All I ask is that I bear your punishment, and not my friends.”
She quickly inhaled, stepping back suddenly. Panicked confusion warping her face. This wasn’t the response she pictured.
She imagined, something... something, ANYTHING, but that. Why wouldn’t he beg for his own life- that’s not the selfish pirate she remembered? Hook would have sent dozens of others in his place to save his skin. This wasn’t- he wasn’t-
His hand reached out to—
“DON’T TOUCH ME!” Sunny shrieked, pulling so hard she dropped with a hard thunk. A sob bubbled up in her throat.
Killian inched closer, as far as he dared to. As terrifying as it was to be near her, she was just a slip of a girl, a girl that had held onto her anger for too long.
This girl, who he had had a hand in securing her ruin. Murdering that lost boy had only made Pan’s hold over her definite and unyielding, her spirit broken.
“Love, I wish to give you the sincerest reparations.” Killian started-
“A life for a life Captain. Yours for Rufio.” Her green eyes locked with his. She was struggling to keep her brooding facade; inner turmoil made her anxious to escape.
Killian chuckled, knowing well what she would demand.
“If that was the only way to satisfy your ire, we would both have to relive many deaths to seek atonement. Wouldn’t you agree?”
She refused to keep her glare, shying her gaze toward her hands.
Killian stared passed her, his memories leading him toward dark times. Pan had shown him, time and time again, the error of his actions. Killian witnessed countless torture of his men, any of Pan’s enemies, and the Natives.
Death, death please, take me home, Sunny begged silently. I just want to go home.
“Sunny, could we-” When Killian looked back again, she was gone.
ISLAND OF THE BLESSED
The smell of the sea, the grittiness of the sand between her toes, the dull ache of loneliness in her soul: she knew she was home. Death led her from the shoreline toward her shanty. Each step harder than the last, her heart felt surprisingly heavy despite the emotional stabbings it had taken in the days she dared to interact with the real world.
She wanted nothing more than to crawl in her bed and try to forget everything. Wishing that the last few days to have never existed.
As her steps grew closer, she paused taking in the crude familiarity of her shanty. She had modeled it after the one she had shared with Peter in Neverland. So the outside lacked any metal and was fabricated from timber and secured with thick had braided rope. She had been meticulous it recreating the wrap around steps that had led to the treehouse loft from the back of the shanty.
Normally, its appearance would stir reminiscent longing in her gut, but today, it was a small comfort.
She sighed, and finally deciding to go in.
Her tired smile turned to shock upon the sight of her son. If she hadn’t seen this previously, she would have mistaken McKinley as his father as she had done once before. Why was he so grown? Why did he age so much in her absence?
She reached for her teenage son, “Baby. Why-why do you look like this?” Her hands shook as McKinley pulled away from her, staring her down with such disdain. “Baby?”
“No mom. I’m not your baby.”
“No-yes,” she stammered, “McKinley, please. Let’s talk.”
“No!” He stomped passed her, letting the door slam behind him. She huffed, instant annoyance gripping her senses with sharp fury. How dare he speak to his mother that way!
“McKin-
Neal stepped in front of her path, “Leave him alone. You’re going to talk to me, not him.”
“Why isn’t he allowed to grow old? We’re not on Neverland. I mean, seriously Sunny, we are not even in the land of the living. Why are you preventing him from living his life?” Neal demanded; adrenaline was pumping crazy through his chest. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been so riled up, feeling so abjectly angry and betrayed.
“Do you know what it’s like to watch your son live a beautiful life and grow old?”
Neal shook his head in frustration, he didn’t even want to look at Sunny. He didn’t want to witness whatever nonsense she was going to spew from her lips next. He would give everything to watch Henry grow into an adult. What parent wouldn’t love to watch their child thrive? He just didn’t unde-
“Now imagine, you’re still beside him while in his nineties, holding his hand…” she sniffed, “Imagine, watching and waiting as he struggles to breathe.” She paused to wipe her eyes, “You know in those moments, as his parent,” Neal could hear her voice waiver through her tears, “all you can think about how you’re going to outlive your son.”
“How could you do that to your son?” Neal mumbled angrily, causing Sunny to lash out.
“Why do I have to be left alone?! Why do I have to give up the little piece of happiness? McKinley may not be a god, but he is my son. He will be in Olympus! Not here! Not with me! What’s so selfish about that?”
Everything she said was so egotistical, he didn’t even know where to start with her. McKinley had spent an entire lifetime with his mother, living under her whims, spending all his moments under her constant care; and that…that wasn’t enough for her.
She turned back time, a deal much like the one his father had offered him, except she hadn’t asked his permission. Instead, she kept him trapped at an age where he depended on her. Through memory manipulation, which was shaky at best, she tried to keep her son at a period in his life where he had a personality, but no desire for independence. It made him nauseous, honestly, this was the first time the word monster seemed appropriate for Sunny. Only monsters would inflict their desires on the unwilling.
Sunny’s eyes narrowed, pinching nearly shut with rage. The look on Bae’s face clearly showed that he didn’t believe her… no it was because he didn’t care to believe in anything she said.
She was tired of defending herself, tired of everyone who was supposed to care, turning on her whenever convenient. She just wanted to rest her mind, ease herself into a dream where the last few days didn’t matter. Where she could serenade her thoughts and create a sinful melody of peace, she desperately craved.
She sighed; it was exhausting. Why try to beat a dead horse, Bae wasn’t going to agree with her. “It doesn’t matter, you’ve already formed your own opinion.” She shuffled passed him, pushing the door open. She was going to go collect McKinley and go to bed. She was done.
“Don’t you dare!” Neal squeezed her wrist, pulling her from the entryway. She was not going to do this, not now. “You run from everything Macaria!”
He didn’t- why did he even bother with that name. All that name brought was heartburn and indigestion. Macaria, the girl who couldn’t secure the love of her mother, the trust of her brother, or the life she wanted to live with her father. Macaria was a weak girl, much less a mother or friend, she was a pitiful little nobody freak that no one had wanted.
She stated with a sneer, “You know I prefer to go by Sunny...right Neal?”
“That’s fine, Baelfire is the name my father gave me. But you,” he laughed bitterly, “you have run from your name, from your life, you run from anything that may alter your perception of reality.”
She shook free of grip, holding her hands in the air as a physical manifestation of her feelings. “Please enlighten me Bae? Everyone seems to have a keen opinion about how I should feel.” She sobbed furiously. “I remember you doing something very similar, you hypocrite!”
Bae chose to ignore her; her words were not going to sway his temper. He stepped closer, distorting the light around Sunny. Her body was trembling within the darks of his shadow, but it did not hide her completely. “You live in the past and ignore your future. You need to own up to the truth, face the facts.”
CHIP.
“You were the last person I figured would attack me like this.” She admitted, sounding defeated, staring at the ground angrily, “is it because you spied on me?”
“You will defend Pan with all that you have, but then swear death upon Hook? Pan will never be a good man like Killian.”
CHIP.
“BECAUSE HE WAS NEVER GIVEN A CHANCE!” She shrieked. “HOOK GETS TO LIVE WHEN EVERYONE I LOVE IS TAKEN FROM ME!”
“Pan was a monster!”
CRACK.
“I’m a monster!” She pulled Bae close, clenching his jacket between her hands. “I’m the monster. You think I can’t tell when people look at me, judge me.” The cruelty was dripping from her broken lips and her eyes burned bright with exasperation. Neal sympathized with her, but it wasn’t an excuse.
“They flinch when I’m nearby. I’m hideous. I’ve done hideous things. The only thing that I ever did right was loving Peter.” Sunny snapped, her anger was holding by a thread.
She was so tired of this, of everything!
Neal pushed her back, trying to put some space between the two. He was disgusted for even having to look at her. “He used you, just as everyone else had. And when he was done with you, he disposed of you and another son. Same for your father.” He sighed. “You have always been the victim and it seems...that’s all you’ll ever be.”
SHATTER.