Calliope had seen many dead bodies in her life. After centuries of realm hopping, she'd made her fair share of enemies, and enemies often left casualties. The glassy emptiness of the eyes of the dead stuck out to her most though, even more than the unnatural stillness that a more ignorant person could confuse with sleep. Vacant eyes were unmistakable, though.

She could hear Killian Jones above deck. Once they'd realized she was powerless to save Liam, he'd left her in the main cabin, standing over a map table marked with little red and blue flags. At first it had just been her, the creaking timbers, and the rocking of the ship. But then she'd heard the shouts.

Killian had been in a daze. He'd followed the soldiers out who carried the captain between them, sparing her barely a glance and no words. Calliope couldn't stop her own tears, face flushed with anger at what Pan had done with the beauty of her Island, he and the Shadow turning it to evil. It had separated siblings, again.

In the silent moments she'd shared with Killian, she'd seen the vacancy in his eyes that reminded her so much of his brother's. But the shouting above deck, calls for living by nobility alone, disowning the king for his treachery, the cries for a turn to piracy, spoke to the anger that had taken over. Calliope knew it well. She'd tried to kill Pan, repeatedly. Only the realization that she physically could not was what forced her to rethink her methods. Her priority became sabotage instead of murder.

Killian, it seemed, had taken a similar stance against his enemy. The King would be made to suffer for his evil. So she stayed by the table, staring out the windows onto the sea. She listened to the muffled cheers above deck.

When the door crashed open, she spun around. Killian Jones, rid of his navy uniform so only the pale blouse and pants remained, stood staring at her. She didn't speak. At first neither did he, his anger loud enough through his clenched jaw and pointed stare. He closed the door.

"Why are you here," he snapped.

Calliope frowned. She stood up from leaning against the sloped white wall. "I tried to save him."

"Why couldn't you stop the poison, if you're so damn powerful as to make that place!" He stalked further into the room, agitated movements making Calliope step back. "Your bloody island killed him."

"I warned you not to leave, Lieutenant-"

"I don't work for the king," he sneered.

Calliope nodded. "Killian, then. I told you that Pan plays games. Your brother is not the first casualty of Neverland."

Killian stalked towards her, over where she stood near the head of the bed. He made a fist. Slamming his hand against the wood near her head, he couldn't find words. She just watched him, staring into his blue eyes without flinching.

He backed away. His hands still shook, from anger or grief Calliope couldn't tell. Probably both. She remembered what that was like. So much pain.

"I lost my sisters to my own Island, Killian," she said. Speaking it aloud hurt even more than keeping it in, but he deserved this. He deserved to know someone else felt his pain. To not be alone. She had been alone for so long. "There were nine of us, originally. Muses, daughters of Zeus and a former fairy. I was the first. And now the last."

Killian turned to look at her. He faced away from the door, not meeting her gaze at first. When he finally did, he stayed silent. Calliope chose to take it as a good sign.

"I spent ages traveling the realms after we created Neverland. They wanted a place to stay, to be safe," she said. Calliope felt her throat tightening, soreness from the grief. "I didn't want that. So I left. At some point, somehow, Darkness came to Neverland and began to change the Island. By the time I returned, all eight of my sisters were dead and Pan had joined forces with the Shadow."

"The Shadow?" Killian asked, voice breaking.

Calliope nodded. "I don't know what it is. It's primal, a force of Darkness. But Pan doesn't work alone. He gets his magic from the Shadow, which draws strength from my dead sisters."

"That's why you can't kill him?"

"Yes. I can't fight myself," she said. Calliope closed her eyes. She could hear their screams in her mind again, feel their pain and memories. "In Neverland, I am both the weakest and most powerful. I couldn't save my sisters, Killian. Just like I couldn't save your brother." As she saw the young man in front of her deflating, backing up against the other side of the small Captain's cabin, she felt her heart break. "Killian, I am so sorry."

He didn't respond. He fought against tears, refusing to look at her. The ship continued to rock, moving through the waves at a steady pace. The creaking timbers reminded Calliope of breaking hearts. In the silence, her whole body ached from the loss of her sisters. She had brought this on them. She'd left, not thought to check on them until it was too late. And now Killian and Liam had paid the price.

"Why are you still here?" Killian finally broke the silence a few minutes later, only a few tears wetting his cheeks.

She took a deep breath. A good question. Her brown boots had been rooted to the spot in that Captain's cabin since Liam had been carted away. She looked at Killian there, blue eyes red from tears, face wet and brown hair sticking to his cheeks. She couldn't leave him to himself, not after her island had taken his brother.

"I couldn't save your brother. But I can help you," she offered. "As a guide, or an ally. Your king sent you to my land uninvited," she reminded him. "I have no love for him. I know what it's like to lose family. No one should have to go through that."

"I don't need your pity," Killian snapped.

Calliope let out a small laugh, looking away. People often said that. Why pity was scorned, she could never figure out. Staring out the window, she watched the waves turn white as the ship broke them. Calliope turned back. "How about an ally, then. You're an honorable man, from what I've seen. I can help."

He nodded, just slightly at first but with growing confidence. "For how long?"

Her frowned deepened. Calliope looked away for a moment, studying the map on the table. Then she turned back. "I don't know. Every moment I'm away, Pan and his Shadow will take more of Neverland from me. But I will help you here, since I couldn't help while in Neverland." She flicked her hand and in a swirl of white and gold smoke, she switched her dress for her tunic and pants.

Killian didn't speak for a few moments. He just stared at her there, then out of the windows. Finally, he turned back to her. "You know it's bad luck for a woman to come aboard a ship."

Calliope let out a small laugh. "Even when she brings a pouch full of magic beans?"

"Maybe we can overlook the superstition just this once." He forced out a small smile. Gesturing to the door, he waited for her to follow. "So, what now, Muse?"

She had to blink against the sun when her boots hit the deck. Killian stood next to her, arms folded across his chest. They watched the sailors scrubbing decks, a few being lowered down by rope by their peers to work on a new paint job. They worked like a machine.

"That's up to you. I'm here for support. Captain," she said. Calliope turned to him, offering him a smile.

He narrowed his eyes, watching over the deck and the men on it. They swarmed about, some lingering by the sails drinking and laughing, others working the rigging. Killian locked eyes with one and stalked forward.

"I'll take that, mate," he said, raising his voice. He met the man by the mast, pointing to the flask in his hand. "Don't mind if your new Captain takes a drink, do you?"

The man raised his hand, putting the brown flask in Killian's own. With a nod, Killian turned. He took a drink, relishing the smoothness of the alcohol. Calliope watched a bit of peace settle on him as he started up the couple of steps. He locked eyes with her before turning back to the crew.

"This here's Calliope, men. She's to be our ally out here against the King," he said, shouting over the sounds of the deck. "It was her island that we were forced to trespass on, and it was she who tried to reveal the King's treachery. So. From here on out, she's one of us." He smirked, downing another long drink of the alcohol. Then he turned to her, and raised it up. "To our new muse."