THE HARSH WIND, in its surprising coldness and strength, caused Wilma's eyes to open wide as she felt it on her face, the whirl blowing her hair behind. Instead of a familiar place, Wilma realized she was standing on strange ground, a forest surrounding the open field where she stood — and yet, she felt like she was right where she belonged. It was an unsettling feeling, being so confused, but still so serene at the same time, but she could feel something was off, so the woman looked around more and took her first step on the dying grass. Only then she realized that until now, it had been as if she was floating in the air, but with the step she took, her heel dug into the ground and the uncomfortable rubbing on her feet caused her to look down from the tall trees around the empty property.

Along with high heels, Wilma was wearing a black skirt and a blazer to match — an outfit which she rarely wore, in fact, the last time she had donned those sorrowful clothes were at her mother's funeral. The thought of a funeral made Wilma eventually lift her gaze in curiousity, only for it to land on a group of people, all of them standing evenly across the grass, all of them wearing black, all of them facing another direction. With confusion, Wilma started to walk through the misty air, cautious and wary due to the unfamiliar surroundings, but as she made it closer, she recognized the place to be a cemetery — there was a single, gray headstone resting on the ground with red roses thrown at its feet, and before the headstone, the group of people, crying. The silence that had already grown familiar, turned into sadness filled by their quiet, distant sobs, and the darkness of the situation made Wilma gulp as she took a careful step closer.

It was then, as her eyes met familiar faces, that her heart sank in her chest and the frown on her lips turned into a full-on grimace, fueled by pure terror and utter horror. Instead of finding herself amidst strangers, Wilma was surrounded by something worse — her friends. Right there stood Emma Swan, silent tears rolling on her pale cheeks, and by her side, little Henry. On Wilma's other side was a sight that was equally unsettling — Killian, but instead of being hidden under the usual several layers of leather, he was wearing a fancy suit, with his hair stylishly combed, and his stubble cleaned for the occasion. And he looked quite nice, too, except for the sorrow visible on his face, which shook Wilma. He rarely seemed so... sad.

Wilma wasn't sure if her voice carried, but when she looked in the middle of the group and found Snow White, sobbing uncontrollably, she was forced to speak up. "Mary Margaret?", she tried carefully, her voice echoing throughout the open space, and once her words ceased to repeat themselves, she licked her lips and made another attempt. "Snow?", Wilma whispered, beginning to grow worried and uneasy in the situation, with all her loved ones standing there in a row, crying, shaking, yet seeming so still and strange, like robots. Like ghosts.

But as Wilma eyed the row of people dressed in their finest, she realized that one wasn't there. And the fear caused by the one's absence made Wilma turn around, and she ended up facing the fairly new grave, her eyes flickering over to the gray stone her friends were mourning at.

And on the headstone, was one name — David Nolan.

The heartwrenching sight earned a sharp gasp from Wilma, and as she hauled air into her lungs, her eyes opened again and she sat up. However, now that she observed her surroundings, she wasn't at the cemetery anymore, and her friends weren't crying or wearing their funeral clothes. She was back in Neverland, the green trees of the jungle surrounding her, and by her side sat Snow White, who directed the woman a worried look, but instead of stopping to insist that she was okay — because she wasn't — Wilma let her gaze roam to find everyone else. Regina was there, Emma was too, and on the other side of the camp they had put up in order to rest before resuming their quest to find Tinker Bell, sat Hook and Charming.

The sight of the latter made Wilma sigh with relief, but it didn't wipe away all the fear and worry in her. Instead, she only now began to remember her horrifying dream in all of its scary detail, and the memory of David's funeral made Wilma jump up and stride over to the two men. The only reasonable explanation Wilma could come up with, regarding her dream — no, nightmare — was that David was really dying, and the thought of that made Wilma think about the arrow that had grazed the prince. And now, Wilhelmina couldn't take it anymore. She needed to know the truth.

"Come on", she simply said as she tugged on David's sleeve, forcing the man to get up and follow Wilma deeper into the jungle, to a spot where they could talk in peace without anyone else overhearing what Wilma could feel turning into an argument. However, they didn't get to be alone, when the rustling of leaves and branches caused Wilma to turn around and see Hook following them, but not bothering to push him away, she believed that perhaps it was good for someone else to hear the truth too. If David really was dying, then she wasn't going to be capable of handling all that pressure, anger, sadness, but most of all, dread by herself. It would crush her heart.

"Back at Pan's camp, when you saved me. Did the arrow hit you or not? Tell me the truth, Charming. I—I need to know", Wilma insisted, visibly trembling as she looked up at David, meeting his eyes, and trying to be brave and confident, only for her feeble attempts to come tumbling down. The truth was, she was terrified, but she couldn't live in false hope or the bliss of not knowing. No matter how painful the answer was going to be, she needed to know if her friend was safe or not.

"I told you, it's nothing to worry—", David tried, chuckling nervously, but Wilma could see through his attempt to comfort her. With lies.

"It is, though, isn't it? Bloody hell, you shouldn't have jumped in, David. You shouldn't have tried to protect me. I am sick of everyone doing that — hovering over me, looking after me like I'm some puppy that will get lost or die the second you turn away, because that's not who I am. Granted, I'm not some warrior princess or—or an overly confident pirate or the Savior, but I'm not so hopeless, either. You're the one who taught me how to use a gun, remember? So you should have given me one. But instead, you didn't, and you had to save my life, which now potentially cost you yours. So tell me, Charming, did the arrow hit you, or not?", Wilma exploded, not even bothering to hold back anymore. Frankly, she surprised everyone, including herself, and she could see it in their eyes. But instead of looking at Killian, Wilma stared at David, long enough to break him down.

Slowly, David swallowed and looked down, before lifting his shirt enough to reveal his toned upper body, and on his side, a cut that seemed so innocent, yet the red wound was surrounded by black. And that shade of black — it was poison, which had already begun to spread, sneaking into his veins and bringing him closer to grim death with each passing second. And even though Wilma had known that finding out the truth was going to hurt, nothing had prepared for this, the immediate stab in the heart as she looked at the wound, in the knowledge that Charming was, indeed, dying. And not so slowly, either.

In that moment, all the anger that Wilma had felt for David, washed away with the heartbreak that kicked in, and the woman surged forward to hug the man tightly. Tears were already rolling down on her cheeks, and the first sob that broke free from between her lips split the thick silence between them, making it real. Confirming that it was happening, that it wasn't just another bad dream. It was worse. Because Wilma couldn't stop it. All she could do was hold onto David, until she would lose him, like she had lost everyone else too. Frankly, she couldn't help but feel guilt. If it wasn't for her, maybe David wouldn't be poisoned — maybe he would be that lively, brave prince for many years to come. Instead, his fate was sealed, and Killian only confirmed this.

"I'm sorry, mate", he whispered, "it's just... days", making it even harder for Wilma to handle. Crying into his chest, Wilma shook her head and closed her eyes, her whole body shaking as she hugged David and inhaled his scent, felt his firm muscles, heard his quiet sniffles.

"You can throw as many tantrums as you want to, but Wilma, as long as I'm here, I'll never stop protecting you", David chuckled softly, although it was by no means amusing, but it was a promise that warmed Wilma's heart even though it was slowly breaking in her chest. She didn't even have the strength, or the desire, to argue and insist that it was her weakness that caused this in the first place. Instead, she just continued to shake her head.

"I can't lose you too", she whispered hoarsely, her voice breaking as the tears made her choke up. "You're my best friend."

———

WILMA HATED IT — but nevertheless, she had agreed to not tell the rest, more specifically, David's wife and daughter. She deemed them worthy of knowing, but the prince insisted that there was no hope — which, frankly, only twisted the knife — and he didn't want to weigh them with the misery of knowing, which was now a struggle that Wilma found herself dealing with. Or at least, she was supposed to deal with it, but she wasn't so sure if she could. However, she did agree that it was up to David to tell his family, it was, after all, his secret to share, but Wilma did not agree with his decision to keep it one. Still, she didn't tell anyone, but luckily, she wasn't the only one who knew now, because Killian did too. And concluding from the constant eyeing, he could read Wilma's expression enough to locate the hidden sadness and aching there, and it was putting an endless frown on his face.

Their group had eventually resumed their journey to Tinker Bell's tree house, but they had left Regina behind, who had insisted that they should carry on without her. The striding through the jungle was quite tiring, but if there was one thing Wilma was sure about, it was that she no longer wanted to sleep. She was scared, because clearly, Neverland was having an effect on her, one that came in the form of wonderfully upsetting nightmares. And the latter had more or less come true, as David was really dying, so Wilma didn't want to find out what else she would discover. Frankly, the whole coincidence of dreaming about something that ended up being true was unsettling, but Wilma elected to not think about — besides, it made sense, because she had suspected David's condition before the nightmare.

"You can't blame yourself, beautiful", Killian then whispered to Wilma, who turned to look at the man after glancing around to make sure no one else was at a hearing distance. Once she was certain that she and Killian were far enough from the others, she chuckled, mostly at the word beautiful — really? Her eyes were still red and puffy from the stream of tears, although she had claimed to the others that it was just the humid air of the island, and truthfully, their stay at Neverland was beginning to take its toll on her physically too, not just mentally. She looked like she had gone through some kind of torture, with her face rather pale, beams of sweat scattered across her forehead, her curls dry and nearly straight, and her whole expression screaming the desire to go back in time and choose differently to avoid this catastrophe that she suddenly found herself sinking in.

Smiling dryly and without amusement, Wilma turned to look ahead, whilst thinking about her answer. Instead of arguing and lying that she didn't blame herself for what had, and was still, happening to David, she just shrugged. "I can't not blame myself. If I was this... this fighter, a badass, like everyone else here, then David wouldn't have to protect me all the time. He wouldn't have jumped in to save me. And you do that too — protect me. What if you're next?" she asked, looking over to Killian again, and she could instantly see the misery on his features. However, she couldn't tell if it was because of the current situation they were together in, or if it was just because of Wilma's despair.

"Being strong doesn't necessarily mean physical strength, or being... badass", Killian pointed out, tasting the unfamiliar word with caution. "You are a fighter, Wilma, you've survived some quite tough situations. Besides, you heard what the prince said. He will never stop protecting you, and neither will I. I'm not sure what I would do if I were to lose you", he mumbled, drawing his eyes away from Wilma just enough to make sure they weren't losing the road or walking into a tree, but soon enough, his attentive gaze returned to the woman, who couldn't help but feel her heart flutter at the caring manner he spoke to her with.

But still, she argued.

"And what if I lose you?", she questioned, although merely the thought of losing Killian too was beyond painful, something that made her heart ache. She had lost too many people already, people she loved, and even though she still hadn't confessed it to anyone but herself, Killian was one of those people — she loved him, and living in a world where he simply didn't exist, sounded like one that she didn't want to exist in, either.

Stopping, Killian grabbed Wilma's wrist, which caused her to stop walking too, and meet his fond, reassuring gaze. "You won't. I promise you, you'll never have to lose me", he spoke with a serious look, which eventually softened into a warm smile. Wilma parted her lips, already ready to argue with the fact that he couldn't promise such a thing, but he was quicker, adding, "I'm rather brilliant at surviving, love. Haven't you noticed?", which made Wilma shut her mouth and settle for shooting the man a grateful, affectionate smile.

"There it is", David's voice interfered with their moment, and Wilma turned to glance at the prince, but when she noticed his eyes looking elsewhere, the woman roamed to jungle with her stare to find whatever had earned his attention. And it was quite deserving, as not very far from them, stood a tall tree, formed into a lovely little house. With just one look at the place, Wilma broke into a careful smile, knowing that this was it — this was Tinker Bell's home.

"You ready to meet Tinker Bell?", Snow asked, stepping out and smiling at Wilma, who couldn't hide the sudden surge of happiness she felt in her chest. Granted, a lot of stuff was going downhill at the moment, but she carried hope that Tinker Bell could help, them with finding Henry, and David, with her pixie dust.

Smiling, Wilma just nodded, "I've been ready since I was six years old."

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thank you for 8k!! i never expected this book to reach so many reads, thank you so much x

and aww, my poor wilma )): anD DAVID BABY

this might honestly be one of my favorite chapters i've written 🤔