ANTICHRIST

"Oh, I wouldn’t dare." he lied jokingly, he could betray Tinkerbell and there was always the possibility that he would but that was for him to think about and debate, nothing concerning her. She must have known how futile it was threatening him. It would all depend on who benefits him the most. He’d miss their banter though if he did end up doing the worst, there was always the temptation of going back to where he belonged, with the villains, brooding and angry.

Growling quietly, he tasted the steely blood in his mouth. Spitting to the side, he ‘angrily’ brought his hook across her cheek, the back of the steel curve slapping against her face. Doing the same as her, just enough to be convincing. “Bitch…” Hook muttered quietly, some of this acting coming perhaps a little too naturally to him.

Being shut inside a pitch black room was not pleasant, as much as he wanted to move he could barely find the courage to step any further. Running his thumb over the back of her hand, even he couldn’t hide that he was growing more anxious.

The candles that lined either side of the hall sputtered to life and at the end of the room, perched gracefully on an ebony throne was the witch herself. “Maleficent.” he greeted warmly with a bow of his head. Walking himself and Tink closer he pushed her to her knees in front of the witch. “I’ve brought you a gift.” smiling up at her, his confidence returning slightly.

The room fell silent while she overlooked the two of them, piecing together what could have happened, observing, watching. "And I thought you betrayed me, Hook." her voice smooth and low, calm and cool, Hook simply gave her another smile, saying nothing about his loyalties. Her attention snapped to Tinkerbell, looking almost hungrily towards the girl. "And how are you, Tinkerbell?" 

Tink hissed as the steel met her face, closing her eyes for a moment as a sadistic smile graced her face. She met the eyes of the soldiers, tongue swiping quickly over her lips as she tilted her head to look at Hook. "My apologies." She breathed against his cheek, chuckling a deep sort of chuckle, a sound rooted in madness as they walked along the soldiers. The way they looked at them, it was inherently obvious that these men had seen such behaviour commonly. They had seen women with eyes dipped in madness, men with viciousness grown into them. How, she wondered, did she make them this way.

Tink had wanted to hold onto Hook, remain in that moment of tiny comfort for as long as possible but the lights came on they were forced into action. The pair of them were almost too good in their roles and Tink had to remind herself that they weren't exactly acting here. This was who she was; feral, maddened and Hook was as dangerous as the sharpness in his voice. No one was acting. Alliance did not make two people sane. They had simply grown used to each other's crazy.

Maleficent looked at Tinkerbell like she was meal. She had been looking for her, she had wanted her in the same way that she had Peter. Fifty years ago Tink had just about escaped Maleficent's clutches only moments before turning into her human form. She despised the witch, everything about her made the fairy's skin crawl. She was the reason her mind was deformed. She was the reason Tink had turned to darkness. Cut Tink and she didn't bleed, she oozed. That was on Maleficent. "Splendid," She replied cooly, "long time no see."

Maleficent laughed, nodding in her head in agreement but saying not much else. A crow sat on her shoulder, pecking at her horns. "I don't know what you expect me to do with her," Maleficent spoke after a while. "I was expecting a war, not a surrender."

With a face of determination he grabbed the dagger. Though he was just a scared young boy inside, on the outside he had to seem like he wasn’t. He couldn’t be this scared little boy inside, he would never make it like that. Dying was his worst fear and avoiding it was his plan. With a nod of his head, he followed behind Tink. This reminded him just how he used to follow Ariel around, not knowing which direction to take, but follow those in front of him. This time was a bit different though, he wasn’t following a girl he fancied, he was following a leader, someone who would teach to become better than anything he could imagine. Soon all of his insecurities had to go away, he needed to be more confident and fearless.

She frowned at his question, shrugging. She'd taken out groups of people before, her body small but her movements swift and she knew no hesitation. Groups were easy, although admittedly she'd never run into a hoard of soldiers at once. It was better to kill them from a height with a gun or an bow, but today she wanted it to be slow, so that he could feel the life leaving the soldier they encountered. "Then we'll improvise. I won't let anyone kill you, don't worry." She said breezily, the tips of the mountaintops beginning to break through the trees.

"If you wanted my hand on your body all you had to do was ask."

No surprises, that was funny, Hook was sure that it wouldn’t be him providing the surprises in the chaos of Maleficent’s castle. “You know how I love surprises, I’ll keep them at bay, for you.” 

Approaching the door, he swallowed what fear he was feeling and tucked it away. He was supposed to be a fearless pirate captain but even he couldn’t help cowering slightly at this overwhelming sight. Pushing it all back and turning his expression colder, grip tightening around her wrists, the tip of the hook hovering precariously closer to her neck. If he was putting on a show he was going to do it properly. 

The doors opened to meet them and a trio of guards marched forwards, same purple ‘M’ splattered onto the front of their armor, although they did not seem like their usual soldiers that were found in the village, something far more sinister and mad lurked underneath those helmets. "State your business." One of their voices spoke up, Hook couldn’t even tell which.

"Maleficent. I think she’d like to see this one herself." he smiled into Tink’s ear. 

Tink kept her head high as they got closer, her spine straight and each footstep as graceful as the last. It was amazing that someone so messy could be so regal. She had built it into herself, along with her thunderous voice and her unbreakable spirit. She had to delude herself into believing that she was what she was, otherwise she would have quit a long time ago. "You know what I mean. Despite your hook against my neck I don't completely trust you, dear. Betray me in here and your next death won't be quite as swift as last time."

She didn't flinch when he tightened his grip, nor did she quiver under the cool steel of his hook against her skin. She simply gritted her teeth and wore the same mask of nonchalance her pretty face always carried. As the doors opened, she watched the soldiers, their faces tainted with a madness she knew she could find within herself if she dug deep enough. Feeling Hook's lips against her ear, she pulled her head forward and brought it back to connect with his face, knowing she'd held back slightly but hit him hard enough to convince the men in front of her that she hated him.

When the doors slid closed, Tink swallowed and moved along with the soldiers and Hook until they were brought into a room cloaked with darkness. The soldiers closed the door behind them, mumbling something about Maleficent being on her way. She couldn't see a thing for a long time and afraid of speaking without being heard, Tink ran her fingertips slowly over Hook's. She flinched as the room suddenly lit up with candles, even the dull glow startling to her blue eyes.

He nodded agreeing with her, he took some time to think of something but since they could see no other way in but the front door or trying to scale a vertical wall, it was going to have to be the most obvious way.

"I think I’m going to have to knock on the front door. I’ll distract and you do what you need to do."

Hook hated being canon fodder… but he saw no other way. If Hook came in peacefully he hoped Maleficent wouldn’t unleash the hounds on him quite so quickly and he at least had a small history with her. 

Mumbling under her breath, Tink grabbed her knife from her thigh and gave herself a few  cuts, giving the impression that they'd been in a squabble. She pulled Hook's hand roughly to her waist and placed his hook gently against her throat, completely aware that he could slash and have her dead within seconds. Either she was growing to trust him too much or she really had gone utterly crazy.

Standing, she began to walk with him toward the castle, sure Maleficent would have someone on lookout. "I came to your ship, told you about the information and you brought me to her. Any signs of alliance between us was an act on your part. Say whatever you can to get us in there, Hook. And no surprises."

He was suddenly grabbed by the arm and became a punching bag for Tinkerbell’s excitement. “Hey, shush, shh…” Trying to shush her and at least keep their presence relatively unknown to the people in there, it would be helpful if his partner didn’t jump up and down quite so much. 

Crouching down and moving closer in, taking cover behind a large rock, “Next time you get excited try not hit my arm so much, I do need it.”

She followed Hook, crouching beside him, her eyes on the castle. At some point she stopped assaulting his arm and focused on the near impossible task of getting inside that castle. It was bound to be lined with armed guards, with spells and magic formulated from her pixie dust. Gritting her teeth, she came to the realisation that this was by no means going to be easy. While Tink moved like a ghost, this was a whole lot bigger than she.

"There has to be another way in... if only I could get to my dust." She imagined what it would feel like, flying again. Shaking the thoughts from her head, she pulled her cloak off, imagining she'd blend in quite nicely with the snowy mountains. "We need to get closer."

"No" Abigail answered in a calm manner, which was true because in spite of what she had come to hear she did not quite have the feeling that at any moment her company would lung at her. "That is not the qualm in question, actually". The qualm was of course Abigail’s own slightly self-conscious nature, she was so use to being what one would deem to be the ‘cream of the crop’ that the ideal of someone who was so entirely unalike herself yet entirely superior rather made her uneasy. 

"Unfortunately you're right. I'm not allowed to kill you island folk these days. And here I thought this was a war." Tink watched her with hungry eyes, wanting nothing more than to peel the smooth skin from her face and throw it to the wind. But she could not. Every man was already for himself on the island and she needed their trust. "And what qualm is that?"

They were about halfway, the heaviness of exhaustion weighing down on him already, walking vertically upwards all the time was not an easy feat. He pushed on nonetheless and said nothing to not waste his breath. The air was definitely thinning out, each breath felt more laboured and it was now that he felt his not very old age beginning to affect him. His pride meant that he’d never admit this though and he still soldiered on wondering if this was really all going to be worth it.

By the time they’d reached the top, dawn was breaking on the horizon although it wasn’t the same sort of sun he’d seen and watched everyday, there was a far more sinister blood red to its colour. He hoped he wasn’t hallucinating…Turning his sights away from the landscape, trying to focus his drifting mind, he stared upwards and spotted the tip of some dark spire hidden amongst the thick cloud. 

"Is that…"

When they stopped, Tink was ready to drop, legs on fire, fighting for breaths. She was fit but lately her diet consisted of rum and raw meat and her sleeping schedule was rather limited. Following Hook's gaze though, Tink made sense of the shape in the distance, the darkness within the white of the mountains, hidden perfectly. They had never known.  "Do you see..." She grabbed Hook's arm and hit it repeatedly, excitement suddenly running through her like adrenaline. "It's there! Holy fuck it's right there!"

'After fifty years of this, I think that we've said everything, Pan.'

"I think you would’ve known by now," he murmured with a hum of his tone rolling through his chest. "Time means nothing here. We have forever and a day."

There’s a voice inside him that’s screaming silently, the sort of voice that wonders why she giving up, his Tinkerbell, the one he had brought back from death itself with tears as he held her in the palm of his rough hands. He can see it in her eyes, that she wants to give up on him, and it turns his heart cold. He wonders, vaguely, if he still smells the same as he did before; like someone who’s ridden the back of the wind, and spent a thousand fun summers beneath trees with mud coated feet. But Pan has always been there, Peter had just been the best of both, the balance of dark and light, the cruelty of a child and the pure love of an innocent heart. Perhaps, now, he smelt of only brim fire and dirt, the scent of a festering wound. The thought doesn’t settle well in his stomach. 

He wished there were stars out tonight. The stars, they were the only company he’s truly had since everything happened, like a thousand blinking little fireflies glistening in comfort. He wishes he could let her go, and she’d still stay there above the earth, fluttering little wings so fast it sounded like bells. He could feel her heart beat through her chest, his own thrumming with the gentle brush of the night breeze. He keeps his grip around her waist tight, yet loose at the same time, as if any minute now he could let her go and she’d fall right back down. 

'But I have to bring you back to me,'

"Bring me back?" he whispers tonelessly, before he near barks out a laugh, his arms shaking around her. "I’ve always been me, Tinkerbell. I’ve always been inside his mind, I’ve always been here." He prods a finger into his temple, lip quivering. "This is me.” The words ‘she set me free’ were implied, of course, but he couldn’t say them because he knew they weren’t true. She trapped to halves of one whole, took the goodness that shone bright like a star, and stored it away in his mind until all that was left was darkness. 

"You say you want to fight against her, you want to end her reign here on this Island, but you can’t fight darkness with darkness. What you imagine yourself to be, this thing you’ve created in yourself. Your hatred is twisting you inside you." Like the Hangman’s trees, the way the roots had grown and swirled around each other. "You say I’m gone from you, that I’m different, but you’re becoming something your not, Tink. You’re losing your light. You’re losing your magic." Because he knew that magic didn’t have to be all light shows and disappearing acts, it could be the simplest act, like holding a friend as they cried, or saving a little boy fro a garden so long ago.

Don’t let her take your magic, Tink. I’m here. I’ve always been here.

'I cannot be your wings anymore when I have none of my own.'

 Pale, her forehead rested against his cheek, still slightly chubby with youth. Bony fingers clung to his clothes as though he would turn to dust and all of this would have been an illusion. It would hardly be the first time.

"Sometimes it feels like forever is running out. I can't choose anymore, which side of you I'm fighting for." It had always confused her. Once, Peter had been all of her. His smile had been hers, his laughter her own. He had been her wings as she had been his. Now Pan showed a side so much like her that she wanted him. But she wanted him alone. No Maleficent, no islanders. Just Pan and their boys. She wanted, she wanted, she wanted. It was all she knew.

The light had gone out in Tink. Even her hair had turned from gold to silver over the years. But now when her light went out, she didn't die, she was forced to go on living. She was not built to be a leader, she was built to fight and to stare at herself in mirrors. She was built to look at Peter like he was the world itself. Now she led an army toward battle and Peter was up in the air when he should be with her. It should be them against the world, not her against the witch. Her closest friend should not be James Hook, her heart should not long for the shaggy man who was not Peter. Her world should revolve around the boy, and in many ways it still did. "I don't know if this war will ever end. Sometimes I feel like grabbing you and running away to Skull Rock. Or keeping you under the Hideout with me." Her want for him was a disease, it always had been. Growing in her like weeds and showing her was desire was. Love, she knew, was a peculiar thing. But after all this time, her continued dedication to him astounded even her.

She watched, his starry eyes and chipped fingernails, a smudge of old dirt behind his ear. She knew that he was right, that Pan had always been in him. He'd been the darkness in Peter, the shadow that ran away at a moment's notice, the throwing away Lost Boys like useless garbage when they grew up. Pan had lived in Peter like this nasty mess had lived in Tinkerbell -- they had been waiting and she wondered, should she really deny them freedom? Wouldn't it be easier to simply live, to no longer hold back from the so-called insanity? Couldn't they just fly? Maybe if she let go, her magic would come home.

"I know you have." Her admittance was a whisper blown into the night, it was shameful but true. She had loved Pan just as much, and she still did. "But she stole you from me. I love you and she uses it against me. You make me weak." Tink lowered her eyes to the sea as though ashamed, wondering if he would let her go, her now mortal body crashing against the waves and the ice creeping into her veins. She wondered if she'd care. At this stage, she was tired. But he was holding her,  they were flying and if she closed her eyes, she could feel her wings again.

Tink had put herself on a pedestal and for a long time, she had been everything she'd believed. Strong and brave, a villain like Hook but one that could not be stopped, one that was fast and had a voice like thunder. The last few months had weakened her resolve. She grew tired, weary. The island weighed itself on her and she wondered how this war would be won. The hatred was everywhere, it littered her inside and coated her bones, it clawed at her throat and it pulled at her clothes. She had never hated so much. "The feelings are too much, Peter," She whispered, voice hoarse "now my body is big and I feel so many different things at once. It's like they're getting lost inside me. I want it to be like before. Adventures and flying... she took it away from us."

The deck started to swarm with activity while they pulled closer, anchor falling from the side of the ship and finding the seabed with a subdued clunk from the depths. The sails were folded up and tied, although the crew were growing uneasy in the presence of the towering rock formations. Some deeper under current of magic or evil was clouding the whole area it seemed to make the air thinner and fill the lungs with sparks.

A rope ladder was thrown over the side and he gave his quartermaster a pat on the shoulder, a few words muttered to him about what to do if his captain didn’t come back, all common sense really. Leaving his crew behind he gestured to the ladder. “Ladies first.” 

Going after Tink, having to wade through a couple of waves before reaching the sand, the mountain stared down at the ship and him and Tink. “If it’s not up there, I think you owe me about five million bottles of rum.”

As she waded through waves, her dress and cloak pooled around her, like a puddle of black tar making its way to land. Her feet found sand and her eyes gazed upward, the mountains like daggers stabbing at the stars, huge and threatening. She laughed, glancing back to the captain as she began her walk into the mountains. "If it's not up there I owe you a foot massage."

As they walked, Tink found herself picturing Maleficent, her head on a stake, her two ridiculous horns cut from her head and thrown into the ocean. She imagined the island restored to its old sense of peace. Children laughing, pirates fighting, Natives singing. It had once been so beautiful and tonight the witch would pay. 

If she was sat absently in the mountains, killing her was probably not going to be the easiest thing to do and also since Hook’s loyalties were still questionable…  

"Of course. Although I believe that’s easier said than done."

He knows what manipulation is, he knows how seductive a few words could be. He, after all, was a child thief covered in leaves and sap. He whispered pretty words to Wendy, took her from her home and family. He knew of seduction, of charm. This wasn’t what Tink was trying to accomplish here, but her touch wasn’t as childish as it used to be. “What do you want me to say?” he asked then, like he could fix it if she only told him. “What do you want me to say!?”

'Everything you do hurts me.'

He isn’t going to apologize, no matter if that quieter voice inside him wants to. It isn’t his fault, and he’s proud enough to know that, to deny her claims. It isn’t his fault. He had no choice in the matter, no matter if he said so or not. 'You're supposed to be a leader.' He knew that. This was his Island, this was his home. As he lived and breathed, so did the Island. With each powerful breath, flowers grew lusher, trees grew taller. 

He couldn’t have stopped them, he couldn’t have done a thing. His heart was covered with black mud, filled with a hatred that wasn’t even his, but this woman who came seemingly out of nowhere. Oh, she knew she couldn’t have the island without keeping Peter alive, so she did the best she could, by keeping him under lock and key, like a hound set out to do her dirty work. 

He watches her nod, and there’s something in him that feels like cold water spilling out on overheated skin, like the frigid wash of relief. He offers her a dirty hand, chipped nails and mud beneath the buds of his fingertips, but there’s a certain elegance to the long fingers and strong palm lines. And when her dainty hand is settled into his, he grips tight, like he’s afraid she’ll vanish and he pulls her into the expanse of his chest as if he were embracing her. She’s like a feather, when he lifts her up, like a leaf on the wind. He tells her to rest her feet on his, so that she doesn’t fall, once they’re high enough. It’s as dark as ever, but from here he could see the glistening of a city beneath the water, where the mermaids lived, and the heat of the fire in Skull Rock where he hid away when the Lost Boys got to riled. 

"What do I want you to say?" She repeated, words slower than his quick demands, palm splaying out on his chest. He did hurt her. She looked at him and he hurt her, she loved him, he hurt her. Always so sure that she could not love, she wanted him always. He hurt her. "I have no idea what I want you to say. After fifty years of this, I think that we've said everything, Pan." She was a girl as white as winter, deceivingly light. Everything inside of her was like rubbish shoved down her throat, settling in her intestines, lining her stomach with dirt and scorching her heart until it was no longer there. Around him, the light was more real. Adventure settled like sweat on her skin, her eyes glittered with a sort of childish innocence she'd once been so full of. She held fire now, at the meeting of her thighs. But here, a kiss could be a thimble, belief could keep her alive. Gazing up at him, touching him, she was innocent.

Tink knew no innocence.

Out of circumstance, Tink does what she has to do. She had anger in her blood, forged into something strong through grief. She'd lost this boy a hundred different times in this life and she no longer carried it on her back. Now she carried it inside of her and uses it. It is fuel. What did she grieve more? Peter or Neverland? Both were her home and now she was alone in it. At least he was oblivious. At least he didn't know missing her like it was a part of him.

In a moment she had taken his hand, curled her tiny fingers around his and stepped upon his feet, wrapped an arm around him and pressed her cheek to his neck. Above the island, none of this has happened. Above the island she was as small as a firefly and there were no spaces the length of infinities between them. Here they were clean of all that they had done. Bloody hands drenched fresh with water, purged of their messy selves and thrown, hurtling back to innocence when it was she and him. Him and her. A child in Kensington Gardens and a pixie loving him from the second their skins touched. She loved him up here.

"Come away with me."

The words a hundred kids had heard. The words she wanted so badly to say yes to. Closing her eyes, she rested her face within the crook of his neck, placed a hand on his shoulder. Peter weakened her to a point where every touch was affectionate, where nothing was deliberate. "I want to. But there is nowhere to go. I have to bring you back to me," she lifted her head and as the moon gleamed, her eyes were shiny. "I've been waiting for you all this time. Waiting for you to choose me. Come to the Hideout. Fight her beside me... look at me. I cannot be your wings anymore when I have none of my own."