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Sometimes, when she’s especially lonely, Tink goes for a swim.
There’s a lagoon in Neverland about half a mile from her treehouse. It’s not a forgiving place, not like in the Enchanted Forest—the water is nearly as black as the starry night and the tall grasses grow wild and sharp around her bare legs. Good thing she’s made friends with the local crocodile, though, or she’d be a goner long ago.
She only goes in the dead of night when Pan is off in other worlds and the Lost Boys are sleeping their fitful sleep. She lets her hair down, strips off her tattered clothes, and ducks beneath the icy, velvet sheen of water, the thin whips of willow branches grazing her face when she surfaces. It feels like being stripped of her wings all over again, that cold shock, that all-over blanket of desolation, of fear, and she knows it isn’t a feeling she should seek, but it’s a familiar one.
“When you wish upon a star,” Tink whispers as she floats on her back, gazing up at the sky. It’s a rhyme she sort of remembers, something Blue might’ve taught her, but here, it means nothing. She flicks her fingers through the water, sending droplets into the air.
I don’t believe in you anymore, Blue’s voice echoes in her head, and as Tink’s body rocks with shame and anger, the drops pause in mid-air, their descent halted by the miniscule flick of Tink’s hand. They shine like glitter in the air, rotating slowly, pulsing with energy.
With magic.
Tink startles and drops her hand; the water falls with an unceremonious plop back into the lagoon. She takes a deep breath and ducks back under, letting her body sink further and further down, wishing she could sink right into the muddied shipwrecks at the very bottom.
There’s only one type of magic in Neverland, and that’s dark magic.
*
From the very edge of the lagoon, hidden behind the tall ink-dark stalks of water-grass and weeds, Ariel watches the fallen fairy work her dark magic.
She never wanted to go back to Neverland—she’s been to all corners of the world, has seen all the sights, but Neverland is a place where nothing good can happen if you’re no longer a child. Ariel remembers a moment long ago when her father insisted she was still a little girl, still susceptible to the terrors of the realms, but she knows that’s not true.
Otherwise, Neverland would be a gift. But this place is cursed.
Despite her fear, she owes Regina for giving her voice back. She still doesn’t trust the other woman, but now that Ariel has her voice, she’s going to do what she can to keep it. Retrieving the item from Storybrooke will be easy, but getting there is the hard part, especially after she sees the Blue Fairy’s old protégée at work in the lagoon.
“Who’s there?” Tinker Bell’s voice is sweeter than Ariel expected, with an accent she can’t place. “Is someone in the water?”
Ariel knows she should just duck back underneath the dark water and be on with her mission, but instead, she swims slowly out from behind the tall grass. “It’s just me. I won’t hurt you.”
Tinker Bell startles and sinks beneath the water a bit, hiding her naked breasts. “A mermaid? In Neverland?” She flushes prettily from her cheeks down to her neck.
“Not for long,” Ariel says, floating closer to Tinker Bell. “I suppose you’ve seen our visitors?”
Tinker Bell sighs, her fingertips still playing idly at the water’s surface. Ariel watches, wondering if she’ll work her magic again. “I’m trying not to. I have a history with one of them—one I’d rather not hash out at the moment.”
“Me too,” Ariel says. “Right when I thought I escaped from my mistakes, they come right back to me full-force.” She thinks about being in love, about doing anything for love, and can only feel foolish for it.
“Neverland has a way of doing that,” Tinker Bell says. “Unless you’re one of Pan’s…friends.”
“I’m not lost boy,” Ariel says firmly, and with that, she detects a hint of a smile on Tinker Bell’s lips. “My name is Ariel.”
“Tink,” Tinker Bell says, though Ariel knows who she is. “I would invite you back to my treehouse, but…”
“I go both ways,” Ariel says, meaning it to be a joke, but Tink just turns red again. “I mean, I can walk, too.” She swims to the bank and pulls herself up out of the water. When she shifts, she can hardly feel it—her fin turns seamlessly into a pair of pale, gleaming legs. She wiggles her toes experimentally. “Neat trick, huh?”
“I bet it cost you,” Tink says warily, following Ariel out of the water. She’s less shy of her nakedness now. She’s beautiful in the moonlight, her skin milky and smooth, her breasts small, her bottom plump. She tugs a faded green dress on over her wet skin. “Follow me, and stay close. You never know who’s lurking.”
*
“We’re going to the south shore?”
Tink smiles at the worry in Ariel’s tone. “It’s the safest part of the island. Pan almost never ventures past the southeast jungle.” When she first landed on Neverland, Tink was afraid of the southernmost part of the island, too.
“But…what happens if…”
“Maybe I used magic,” Tink says casually, only to laugh when Ariel gasps. “I’m joking. It’s dormant. It has been for years.” As they crest the hill and see through the thick cover of trees, the volcano appears, towering over the island and casting a dark pall over the land.
“But they’re unpredictable,” Ariel says, thinking about the stories Belle told her about. “They could be silent for years, but you’d never know when they come back to life.”
Tink pauses for half a step before resuming. Then it hits her—she saw me using magic in the lagoon. She thinks I’m a dark witch, just like the Evil Queen. The thought makes her sick. It’s true, though—she’s been in Neverland for longer than she can remember, and she’s never felt magic inside herself once. That part of her was dead.
Until now.
“Look,” Ariel says, stopping on the path. “Can we eat these?” She reaches down, grazing the skin of a cluster of plump purple berries sprouting from a large bush.
“Let me see,” Tink says, and takes her blunt-edged knife out from her belt, tipping the fruit to inspect it. “Yes, they’re safe. You must be starving.” She cuts a cluster away from the branch and tucks half into her pouch, giving the rest to Ariel.
Ariel eats quickly, the juice staining her fingers dark. Her limps are plump, her hands are delicate, and a sharp part of Tink wants. The berries and their juices make Ariel look older. They make her look sinful. But Tink won’t give in.
“Save some,” she says gently, turning away from Ariel. “I have some nuts back home. They’re better if you mix them with something crunchy.”
Ariel is quiet for a bit as they continue their trek towards the volcano. “You’ve been here for so long,” she says quietly.
When she winds her fingers through Tink’s, Tink doesn’t protest.
*
Ariel is convinced that Tink’s treehouse is the nicest thing on the island. It’s small and old, of course, with everything in tatters or worn down, but it’s clean and sweet-smelling, an old lantern burning on a small table. There’s a bed with a patchwork blanket, a bucket of water in the corner, and a little doll made from twigs and leaves sitting on the headboard.
“Does he bother you here?” Ariel sits on the bed, running her hands over the blanket.
“No,” Tink says. “Pan knows better than that.” She opens the door on a small cupboard beneath the table and retrieves a cloth bag. “Here. Let’s eat. If you’re in a quest for the Queen, you’ll need your strength.” She pours the bag full of nuts into a chipped bowl and mixes in the berries.
They nibble at the food in silence, Ariel glancing around the treehouse, taking in every detail. She wonders if Tink has ever had a lover on the small bed, if there are lovers in Neverland. Then she spies something in the corner and gasps. “You have a music box?”
Tink smiles and retrieves it, winding up the key. “I found it on the shore. With a bit of work on it, I managed to get it to play again.” She sets it on the table and opens it up to reveal a tiny ballerina en pointe in a blue tutu, her face painted like a doll’s. As the tinny song filters slowly through the treehouse, Ariel grins.
“I know this song,” she says. “My mother would sing it when I was a child.”
Tink looks up. “I didn’t know it had words,” she said. She flushes with excitement. “Sing it for me.”
Ariel, suddenly shy, demurs. “I haven’t sung in so long.” She wonders if her voice will allow her to after it was gone for so long.
Tink stands and holds out her hand. “Please?”
Heart racing, Ariel takes Tink’s hand and stands up with her, their shoulders brushing. She opens her mouth and softly, slowly, begins to sing. “When you wish upon a star…makes no difference who you are…”
Tink gasps, the sound nearly pained, and before Ariel can continue, she leans in and kisses Ariel soundly, lips chapped but sweet, hand coming up to cup Ariel’s cheek. “I know those words,” she says, lips grazing Tink’s. “You brought them back to me.”
Ariel smiles, running her fingers through Tink’s curly hair. “I’m so, so glad I did.” They kiss again and again, bodies swaying gently to the music in a dance meant for just the two of them. Ariel runs her hands down Tink’s back, keeping her close.
Then, the music slows to a stop, the ballerina pausing in her step.
Ariel sucks in a breath, eyes downcast. “I have to go, Tink,” she says, grazing Tink’s lip with her thumb.
“I know,” Tink says, catching Ariel’s hand in hers. “I know you do.”
*
Tink watches Ariel swim out into the sea. Ariel turns back every few strokes to wave at Tink, to blow her a kiss, to call, “I’ll be back for you!” She swims until she disappears into the horizon, then ducks under the water, leaving Tink with only moonlight once more.
Around her, the leaves shiver in the trees. The sand blows softly in the breeze. Tink closes her eyes and breathes deep, smelling the tropical air, the freshness of the world. It moves around her, bends to her thoughts.
If this is dark magic, she thinks, the grasses billowing around her legs, then I hope it will bring her back to me.