scaled

“Oh,” Queenie said with slightly widened eyes and an understanding nod. “Funny how the fire makes it okay to eat.”

Cookson put the dough in a bowl and covered it with a cloth. “Heat changes a lot of things, like you wouldn’t want to eat raw chicken but the heat kills the germs in it.”

“Huh,” Queenie thought as she washed off her hands in the tub on the side. “I guess I don’t like unbearably hot water either.”

Cookson went on to tell her about how the dough would now double in size over the next hour or so, which seemed like a miracle to Queenie.

All of a sudden there was a ruckus outside, yelling, shots, cheers, a heavy thump on the deck and more cheers. Queenie had ducked into the pantry when the noise started, knowing whenever these sounds came it was safest to stay hidden. Often it was a shark or crocodile, but sometimes it was lost kids, and she didn’t want to be seen by them. She also didn’t want to see them getting hurt, even if she thought they were in the wrong.

When things quietened down the pair headed outside to see what had happened, her nerves were slightly on edge in anticipation. Her blood ran cold when she saw the blue body laying on the deck, frozen in place as she stared at it, large fins extending from it’s shoulders, long thin tail, tendrils hanging from around it’s jaw and it’s mouth hung open full of large, sharp teeth. Her chest tightened and Queenie placed her hand over it, struggling for breath.

She hadn’t been paying attention, but Cookson had gone forward to talk to the others, and reached down to take one of the decorated gauntlets around its wrist.

Tinkerbell sniffed at the warning, tilting her head at the mermaid. From what she’d seen in the past, merfolk didn’t suggest caution to humans, but perhaps she had been one of the ones working alongside the other Neverlanders. “Neither is land,” Tink replied, and then looked up to the trees. She lowered her head. And the skies are not for me anymore. “Are you going to drag me to my watery grave, Miss?” 

When Tink had been small, everything had seemed louder, brighter, more noticeable, and while being big had dulled a lot of her senses, she did note the almost imperceptible change in the lapping of the waves. She jerked her head up in time to see the face of a beautiful mermaid backing away. It was strange how after Helena had altered her, that she could feel both sad and happy at the same time. “Don’t go,” she called out, reaching a hand out to the woman. 

James closed his eyes, breathing slowing as he traced circles along her arm. He didn’t remember falling asleep, only the soft breath of Queenie against him that soothed him like a lullaby. By the time he did stir awake, the sunlight had gone, and the pale reflection of the moon could be seen on the distant waters. 

“Oh Queenie, I couldn’t actually ask you to do that,” James said, grinning down at her, appreciating her willingness to help and how quickly she’d jumped to help. “I’m just,” he shook his head once, looking across the room, eyes scanning the bookcase. “I’m tired,” he finished quietly, closing his eyes. Part of him wanted to give up; give into the end as Helena had planned it. A bigger part of him couldn’t allow her to just destroy so many lives, so many innocent people as well as those who had built a home on these shores. Maybe I’ve lived too long.

“Maybe I should do some meditation before I talk to him,” he groaned, knowing that it would be just as difficult for him to pretend like Peter was his equal as it would for Peter to listen to Hook without blowing raspberries at him from between his legs. James dragged fingers down his face and breathed deep, trying to relax the muscles along his shoulders that had tensed the moment he’d come out from under Helena’s spell. If he could just completely relax; fall into a dreamless sleep or similar, he thought he might be able to manage a good plan. “Maybe he’d listen to you,” he chuckled, toying with the idea of not having to deal with the brat at all.

Hook both did and didn’t want to talk about it all with Queenie. On one hand, she made things a little clearer when he talked them out with her, but on the other, he wanted to protect her from worrying about this. Deciding to go with his gut instinct to keep her from too many details, he shook his head. “I’ll explain it all when I have a working plan,” he sighed, feeling a slight regret for dodging her question. “This would be the first time my wordsmithing would get him to see reason, but one can hope.”

Hook sighed as they settled back against the duvet, closing his eyes as his head hit the pillows. Her form beside his was as soft as a breath, and he felt a quiet he’d not experienced in a long time. “We need to work as a team on this. If I’m willing to put our past down for the time being, surely he will understand just how important it is,” he commented, raising the hand that wasn’t holding her against him to his eyes, pressing fingers into them, as if to rub away all that he’d seen. 

It seemed unfair, that someone as messed up as James Hook was afforded this immense comfort, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. All he knew was that this angel needn’t know what he’d given up to spare her and save his mind. The witch had irked him in more ways than one, but implying that Queenie was the one he couldn’t bear to lose, before he could even admit that to himself, was top tier. Helena had meddled with his mind, needled her way in to discover things about him that he hadn’t known himself. Despite accepting the fact that this might be something like love, he couldn’t bring himself to say it to her. Not yet. Not when everything was so fragile, so combustible. His hands pulled her close, one on her hip, the other hooked under her knee. “Can we,” he started, nuzzling at her neck a moment. “Can we just lay down?” James asked, looking up at her through exhausted eyes.