A KIND OF MAGIC ↝ Killian Jones

⇒ CHAPTER THIRTEEN

WELL, THINGS DEFINITELY weren't running so smoothly anymore — Henry was on the verge of death, his heart being in Pan's body and only Regina's preservation spell keeping the young boy alive, for now. On top of that, Pan had locked Gold inside Pandora's Box, and therefore, the man was incapable of curing David, which meant that the man couldn't come to Storybrooke with them — however, he insisted that he had made peace with that already, but the same couldn't be said for anyone else, really. But Wilma remained optimistic, as she had learned that was often the right path to take in these kind of situations. However, they were running out of time, and something needed to be done as soon as possible.

To Regina, this meant torturing answers out of the Lost Boys — Felix, for example, seemed to be Pan's right-hand man, but therefore also uncooperative, but before the queen could rip out any hearts, Emma found a different approach. In her opinion, the right way to handle things was to offer the Lost Boys something every kid wanted — a mother.

And therefore, she was given the stage, the opportunity to speak common sense to the orphans, as she connected with them like that. Whilst she did, Neal was seated next to Henry's unconscious body, clearly upset — it was no wonder, really — and desiring to offer some comfort to her best friend, Wilma let go of Killian's hand just to take a seat next to Neal, and place her warm hand on the man's shoulder as an attempt to radiate solace. Wilma knew loss, but she had never lost a child, and therefore, she couldn't even begin to imagine what was going through Neal's head as he stared at the lifeless body of his own son, with his salvation hanging by a thread.

"He's going to be okay, you know. He's got one hell of a family looking after him", Wilma chuckled quietly, her voice barely above a whisper, but it was enough in the silent jungle. Neal's hard, worried expression softened into a faint smile, one that only she could place there — he wasn't only Wilma's brother, but Wilma was his sister, too, and therefore capable of things not many were. Of course, they weren't siblings by blood, but by bond, for sure. And sometimes, that was more, better. He would never replace Walter, but at least he had helped Wilma heal, and get over his heroic death.

"I know", Neal sighed, "I also knew you were an optimist, but is that a bit of heroism rubbing off on you?", making Wilma roll her eyes as he chuckled and nudged the woman teasingly, but she had no intentions to argue. It was a good quality to have, one that she didn't think she herself would have, but maybe Neal was right. Maybe her time in Storybrooke and its residents had shaped her into something of a hero.

"Might be. I am besties with Prince Charming, after all", Wilhelmina grinned, looking over to David, who was standing next to his wife with his usual model-like posture, just radiating with valor and magnificence — heroism. And next to him stood Killian, less graceful, but equally glorious and beautiful in that rugged appearance of his, his hook resting on Felix's shoulder to hold the teenager down and the leather of his pants stretching around his thigh as he hoisted his leg atop the large log the boys were seated on. Such a marvelous sight to behold, really, far better than any treasure or wonder Wilma could possibly imagine.

Neal scoffed once he saw where Wilma's fond gaze had wandered. "Glad to see you're not turning into a drunk pirate yet", he remarked bitterly, still evidently uncomfortable with the idea of the two being more or less together. In return, Wilma snapped her head back to Neal and her eyebrows knitted together as she directed a disapproving stare at him.

"Hey", she pouted, "he's not so bad. And he makes me happy, so... Isn't that enough? For you to back off?", pursing her lips as she eyed Neal, trying to find anything less negative from his expression, and eventually, he showed just a little bit of surprise as he turned to look at Wilma again.

"He really makes you happy?", he whispered, looking at the brunette with wide eyes, and as a shade of red crept up to Wilma's cheeks, she looked down. But nonetheless, she nodded to confirm that he had heard correctly, that she was being serious. Sighing, Neal then continued, "Then I suppose it is enough", with a weak smile tugging on his lips. With a grateful smile, Wilma took his hand in hers, and as their fingers entwined, they left Henry's unconscious body to join the others once it seemed like Emma's plan was gaining results.