The Old King ~OUAT Panfiction (Book 3)

Sawyer

"Is it just me or did you see that kid wander off around the time Pan pulled Anne out of the camp by a leash?" Preston inquired, meeting Sawyer's eyes.

He finished cleaning the meat for lunch before he looked up. "I might have glanced over and noticed that he was gone, why?" Sawyer narrowed his hazel gaze. Preston shrugged, laying the meat over the fire roaster.

"Just a thought...maybe he stumbled upon something he wasn't supposed to see," Preston suggested next.

"And you think that's why he was poisoned?" Sawyer went on. Preston just shrugged. "But Pan ruled it as an accident," Sawyer concluded. Preston's grey gaze lifted to Sawyer's and he lowered his voice.

"All I'm saying is, you'd think the poor kid would know better than to take a bite from an apple that was punctured with Dreamshade." Then, Preston proceeding cooking on the fire.

Sawyer looked off, pondering. Chester had been the first boy to question Pan's word, and Sawyer went along with it. Now, Preston was doing the same thing. Sawyer reflected back on his conversation with Pan, prior to luring Anne to the cliff.

---- "You need to push her." Sawyer watched the words leave Pan's lips, gravely. "She know things about this island that she shouldn't."

"Like what, Pan?" The helpless lost boy inquired with genuine curiosity.

"She knew about the existence of Neverland, and my shadow. You have to get her to confess to what else she knows," Pan explained.

"What should I say?" Sawyer inquired some more with large, lost eyes.

"Pretend you know about whatever secret she may be keeping, that she needs to confess or you will let go of her," Pan replied with a mischievous grin.

"I guess that makes sense, but what if she never tells me anything? Do I let go of her then?"

"Letting her hang should be enough motivation for her to spill. So no, you will not let go of her, you will simply make her believe you will." ----

Sawyer could recall having the feeling that there was more to what Pan asked of him that day. That perhaps he was searching for secrets, but also searching for something else. He could also remember thinking that there was more to Pan and Anne's relationship than Pan allowed the camp to think.

----"So who do you think this rumored stolen recruit is that Pan mentioned?" Chester inquired.

"Give it a rest, mate," Sawyer exasperated. "You're really going to believe a girl?"

"I'm just saying, we've only known Pan a week," Chester went on.

"A week is a lot longer than a morning."

"It wasn't just that, though. It was the way they looked at each other, I don't know, maybe I'm just seeing things. But I'm telling you, she knows something." ----

Then it clicked in Sawyer's brain. Pan wanted to see if Anne would confess a secret they shared, together.

~ ~ ~ ~

Perched up on a rock in the middle of her sacred spring, Anne gingerly glided the fine blade of her knife up her leg, shaving away the hair that grew there. She had lazily tied her waves back and sat comfortably in her under clothes. The faintest smile tugged at her lips as she blissfully lost herself in the privacy of being a young woman. Forever, a young woman. It was both discouraging and relieving that she would never age, but she yearned for adulthood on the rarest occasions. A part of her had always wondered what it was like to be a mother, to be married, to age. She had wanted to acquire wisdom, to understand what compelled her parents to abandon her and if she would understand someday.

But Anne Beastly had concluded that some things were best left misunderstood. In Neverland, she tried not to think about it anymore...the what ifs, where her brother had gone, and why her parents kept running. With Pan, the grief had become almost nonexistent. Anne still didn't have her heart, though, and she could only imagine what would happen if someone found it in that little box under her bed.

Her bright green eyes enlarged at the sudden thought and her blade halted.

The sound of rustling bushes from close by caused her to instinctively fling her knife as hard as she could. Sawyer emerged and the knife struck a tree beside his head and he gasped loudly, eyes bugging out of his skull. He swallowed roughly, then looked toward her. Her head tilted in confusion -- though, not before she gasped in response and naturally turned her back so the front of her body remained hidden from his eyes. She wore her underclothes, but they were damp, and transparent.

"Can't a girl get some privacy around here?! Ugh!" She scoffed.

"Should I come back later?" Sawyer replied, sheepishly rubbing the nape of his neck.

"What do you want, Sawyer??" She called across the water.

"Look, I know we haven't really gotten along, but I really need to talk to you," he confessed, pleadingly.

Anne sighed and rolled her eyes. "And why would I care about anything you had to say, Sawyer? Huh? Humor me."

"Because, it's not about me," he began, drawing near the water. "It's about you and your relationship with Pan. I know the truth, Anne."