Set Your Sails...to Neverland || Peter Pan, OUAT

Chapter 34 - Kill or Be Killed

"Why should I end your misery?"

"Because then I will live as long as you need me to and you have more time to find the Elixir," I say, "and because...I don't fear death."

His claw tightens for a moment, and his eyes flash with joy, "Tomorrow," and he lets go of my jaw. Jones stands, and walks to the door, opening it, "Tomorrow, Davina Jones, you die."

I let my head hang down. I watch my blood drip from my thigh and mix with the sea water around my ankles. It swirls around, moving from side to side as the ship rocks, and then dilutes. It's the first bit of warmth I've felt for a while. In the darkened corners, I swear a figure watches, shadows spreading outwards from their silhouette. For a brief moment, I feel less lonely, with the presence and the hint of warmth from my own blood. But it doesn't last, because the warmth I feel for those few fleeting seconds begins to disappear, as my eyes become heavy and slowly, slowly, slowly, droop shut...

>Pan

I have to be silent. I must move silently. I've arrived in complete darkness, and I panic slightly that I haven't come to the right place. But my eyes soon adjust, and I see the most horrific conditions. A variety of aquatic species cover the wooden walls of the hold, holes splattered through the wood from numerous cannon attacks, and sea water a foot deep. But that's not what horrifies me.

I see her.

Davina.

And her state horrifies me.

I make my way slowly down the steps so as to avoid making them creak. My foot steps into the water, and it's below freezing. I wade through to her small frame, now tiny due to her fragility. I crouch down, and take one of her hands between mine. Even I can feel how numb they are. The tips of her fingers are a deep shade of blue, with blood spattered across the back of her hand. Out of curiosity, I take the other and am relieved to see the Black Spot completely eradicated. A deep frown sets into my face when I feel warmth on my knee; I look down, and see blood pouring from her thigh where an ancient, damaged dagger is stuck up to the handle.

"What have you gotten yourself into?" I whisper as I look over her weakened body.

I listen to her breathing — she's barely even alive. I need to wake her up. I push her hair back, holding her face up and revealing the cut along her cheekbone and dried blood trails from the cut down her jaw and to her collar bone. Her lips are cracked and peeling, her skin so white it's almost transparent, and the dark circles under her eyes are almost black.

"Hey, Davina, wake up," I whisper with urgency, "Davina! Wake up!"

Suddenly, something changes. Her breathing is too quiet; I feel her pulse and it's slow. No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no...

I use my magic to unlock the shackles around her wrists. The ones around her ankles break in half just by sheer force of pulling them apart; her body falls forward and I catch her. I ease her body down to the floor, and I sit back in the sea water, not caring that my clothes are soaked and my muscles are beginning to numb. I have to wake her up.

While she's unconscious, I rip off the hem of her dress all the way around and then yank the dagger out and tie it off to stop the bleeding. I check her pulse again — barely traceable. Then her breathing...it's stopped.

"Don't you die on me, Davina Jones, we're not done yet," I whisper angrily.

I lie her down where the water isn't as deep, tilting her head back and opening her mouth. I intertwine my fingers and begin the chest compressions over her heart, breathing air into her lungs every so often. I keep going — one, two, three, four, five, six and breath, one, two, three, four, five, six and breath — until finally, she gasps and coughs, panting lightly as her breathing becomes stronger. I support her top half and look over her body to see the extent of her wounds. Around her wrists and ankles the skin is raw with deep cuts and abrasions; her lips are parted, the deep cut across her cheekbone still fresh, and bruises around her chin and jawline, a large patch of dried blood on her stomach, but it's only when I look at my left hand supporting her back that I see the real injuries. All I can see is blood covering my arm.