#this made my entire day so much brighter thank you again my darling deputy!!

[kedsandtubesocks]

i’m thinking about apocalypse meow meow jean again!

what was her family life like growing up?

Amira I LOVE YOU!!!

I’m so so so SORRY I’m just now replying to this now 😭 I’d trade all the lifetimes I could have with all the Pedro boys in the world just to have one day to hug you 🥺

But so - our little sad apocalypse meow meow Jean lol

She is an only child raised by her mom and it was just the two of them! Her mom was a nurse and her dad left them at a very young age that she doesn’t even remember the guy.

She had a lot of imaginary friends and I think forever will be that endearingly wonderful weird little girl that tries to befriend frogs 🤍

Thank you so much for asking about this feral pathetic angry wet meow meow ily so so much 🥺

[ryik-the-writer]

Chapter 19 - The Mystery of the Dead Nun

[A03]

Previous Chapters

Chapter 1: Pan meets a Wendy

Chapter 2: Scars (Felix’s Story)

Chapter 3: Day One

Chapter 4: Revenge and Fireflies

Chapter 5: Brighter than Stars

Chapter 6: filler: The Tigress

Chapter 7: Operation Spotless!

Chapter 8: Operation Spotless: Reporters Down

Chapter 9: A Dance with the Devil

Chapter 10: filler: Felix and the Pancake

Chapter 11: The Girl with Blue Eyes pt. 1

Chapter 12: The Girl with Blue Eyes pt. 2

Chapter 13: The Girl with Blue Eyes pt. 3

Chapter 14. Recovery

Chapter 14.2 Recovery some more

Chapter 15: Trapped

Chapter 16: Fairydust pt. 1

Chapter 17: Fairydust pt. 2

Chapter 18: Fairydust pt. 2

-,-,-,-,-,-

Sorry this took so long, but I’m going to be real for a moment: I’m depressed as fuck. I’m tired, crazy broke, and just plain sad from a lot of toxic messes going on in my life.

My writing—which is usually my cure-all—is suffering greatly for it and I have just enough give-a-damns left not to put something entirely shitty out.

I refuse to take a hiatus. I’m just trying to piece myself together so that I can continue doing what I love. I don’t want to stop. I like writing this story because it has made a lot of people happy. I’m just wondering if I’m ever going to be truly happy.

Anyway, here’s Papers and Sleuthers.

-,-,-,-,-,-

“I am not going anywhere with you until you tell why the hell you published Tink’s story!” Wendy hollered as Pan dressed. She had her back to him facing a solid wall, but she still had her eyes covered.

“We don’t have time.” Pan replied nonchalantly as he buckled his pants.

Wendy groaned in frustration, sparing a glance at August across the kitchen as he rinsed out his mug. He had been quietly observing the scene since she had barged in, offering little to dull her aggression or to protect Pan from it. She hadn’t had time to process what his half-clothed presence had meant for him and Pan. She shouldn’t care, and she kept telling herself that she didn’t. Who Pan took to his bed was his business, but to have such an interaction right after ruining two of his co-workers lives made her blood boil.

“I’ve got to head out.” August called out as he swung on his jacket. “See you next time.”

“No you won’t.” Pan responded as he tied up his boots.

“I’ve heard that before.” August chortled as he exited the apartment.

Pan paused his lacing at the comment, and Wendy—still refusing to turn around—felt the hint of history in the silence.

Finally, she heard Pan’s boots hit the floor and the sound of jangling keys. She gasped when Pan suddenly intertwined their fingers and began to drag her out the door, edging her on the step and forcing both helmets into her arms as he locked up his flat.

“Let’s go.” He ordered, ever the righteous king.

“We need to talk about this!” Wendy protested as he snatched one of the helmets from her. “Why did you do it!”

“The same reason anyone sleeps around,” Pan commented as he swung one leg over his moped. “I was—”

“Not that you despicable human being!” Wendy gagged. “Tink’s story! My story! You jumped into my confrontation and then splayed it all over the paper! She thinks I betrayed her!”

Pan finally met her eyes, his gaze hard. “That’s what journalists do. That’s what we do!”

“But not what Tink does!” Wendy fought back. “She didn’t deserve that! She didn’t deserve any of this!”

“She’ll be over it in a week and you two will be back to gossiping or whatever it is you two do.” Pan dismissed, starting the moped.

Wendy boldly reached out to turn Pan’s hand on the key, turning off the moped and earning a death glare from him.

“Mother Superior is Tink’s mother, the woman who raised her. Do your really think she’s just ‘going to get over it’?”

The darkness in Pan’s eyes faded some, replacing with blank thought, with an apprehension for the future.

Wendy released his hand and turned to the street, the heat still burning on her fingers.

“Where are you going?” Pan called after her.

“I’ll find my own way there.” Wendy called behind her shoulder.

“We don’t have time for this!” he yelled out. “Get your arse on the bike!”

Wendy shot around, her face red. “Shove it you wanker!” She turned, hurrying down the street as her heart pounded and tears threatened to spill down her cheeks. A moment later she heard the angry roar of Pan’s moped race in the opposite direction. Her lip trembled as she heard him leave, but she demanded herself to calm. He wasn’t worth her tears, wasn’t worth much of anything now.

As she rounded the corner, she saw Glass’s car from the other side of the street. The moment he saw her he skid to a stop. Luckily there wasn’t any traffic behind him.

“Kid!” He called out to her.

Wendy crossed the street, stopping at his door.

“Did you kill Pan?” he inquired without a trace of sarcasm.

“Didn’t get the pleasure.” She returned.

“That sucks. Hop in, I’m heading to the convent now. Mother Superior—”

“Is dead. I know, Pan just got the call.” Wendy explained as she went around the car to the passenger’s seat.

“God, I hate that little shit.” Glass grumbled as he sped into the street. “Thank Christ for his contacts though.”

Wendy nodded absently, leaning her head against the cool window as they eased through the uneasy town.

Sydney didn’t comment on her quietness or the redness of her rimmed eyes. He did, however, reach out to crank the heat up and turn the vents her way.

The convent was packed with onlookers and grieving nuns, as well as Storybrooke’s few police officers trying to keep the crowds under control.

As Wendy and Glass jumped out of the car, she spotted Pan and Felix just off the side, Felix clicking away on his camera as Pan solemnly took in the scene. Wendy couldn’t tell if there was guilt in his expression from the distance, but she could feel the nervous vibe from some of the onlookers as they looked her way.

“Don’t let them get to you.” Glass warned. “I’m going to find the coroner, you find Graham and try to get a statement.”

“Yes.” Wendy nodded, easing through the outside the crowd, her frown hardened as she got closer to Pan who for whatever reason was being idle. That wasn’t like him at all.

“Taking a break from ruining lives?” Wendy hissed.

Pan laughed wetly, his eyes deadly as daggers. “I’m not done ruining yours yet.”

“Looks like you have competition.” Felix whispered to them, motioning to the crowd. Several people had turned their attention from the scene inside the convent to her, some simply glaring, others whispering to each other while they stared her way.

It was surreal and annoying, and entirely unsettling.

“If they come after me with pitchforks I will use you as a shield.” Wendy hissed at Pan.  

“If you really want to…” Pan stopped his threat when Graham exited the convent, earning the crowd’s attention as the promise for answers awaited them.

“I need you all to disperse, with the exception of the nuns of the convent...” Graham paused when the crowd burst into discourse. He waited for them to calm, years of experience given him patience of steel.

“We do not know Mother Superior’s cause of death yet but there are still several other factors that need to be investigated.” He signaled the other officers and they stepped in to carefully move the crowd along.

To the journalists’ surprise, Graham addressed them next, or really Wendy since he walked right up to her.

“Miss Darling, I’m going to have to ask you to come with me.”

“Me?” Wendy protested. “I don’t understand.”

Graham spared a look over his shoulder and then at the other journalists around them before pulling a her just off to the side.

“One of the nun’s said you were here around noon and that you and Mother Superior had a heated discussion. She also said she saw someone who matched your description leaving the convent just after midnight.”

“You think I’m somehow involved.” Wendy nodded, her stomach tightening. From the corner of her eye she saw Glass and Felix trying to arch closer to listen in. Pan remained still, though his writing was more for show than for putting down information.

“It’s just protocol.” Graham relayed with a shake of his head. “It’ll look better for you if you come with me willingly.”

“Of course…” Wendy gasped. It wasn’t her fault, but it only felt responsible to shoulder the majority of the guilt. She glanced at Pan, wondering if he felt the same. His head was bent down at his writing pad, his face blank of everything except pure concentration.

The bastard.

“If you’ll come with me…” Graham continued.

Wendy nodded stiffly. Pan had yet to mutter a word. It was not fair by any means.

She squared her shoulders, lifting her head and keeping her composure even as she purposely bumped shoulders with Pan.

It wasn’t until she got into the sheriff’s car (back seat, though he didn’t reach for handcuffs—she wasn’t officially under arrest after all) that she let out a frustrated scream. She felt like crying, but more so she felt like starting the car and running Pan down. He had pushed her into a corner and was a step away from ruining her completely.

Hadn’t that been what he wanted from the beginning?  To push her to the brink of insanity and out of Storybrooke?

She thought things were getting better between them, somewhat at least. They had been through so much together. They had survived sociopaths and had had small moments of bonding in the most unusual places. It hadn’t made them friends by any means, but she thought that it had made them…

Something.

Maybe she was wrong, maybe this was his plan all along: isolate her, take away any hope she had managed to obtain and crush it.

He’d certainly done a good job.

Soon enough, Graham left the deputy to finish up and returned to the car. He didn’t say anything at all, and Wendy took his silence as a sign that he was turning away from her as well.

As they drove back into town, Pan looked down at his phone and selected the contact of someone he swore he would never call again.

“Get to the sheriff’s station.” He ordered swiftly when the person on the other line answered. “Protect Wendy Darling.”

He hung up before he received an answer.

-,-,-,-

“You were asking a lot of questions yesterday.” Graham commented when they got back to the station. “I asked you if Pan was involved, but I should have been asking you what the hell you were doing.”

Wendy fidgeted in the hard, wooden chair. Graham had escorted her into the interrogation room, because that’s what cops did with suspected criminals. She knew she was innocent, knew that she hadn’t laid a hand on Mother Superior and had not physically caused her death.

She blinked when Graham slid a copy of the paper to her. Having the head nun’s stolic face staring up at her did little to ease her guilt.

“This is why you wanted to meet Holmes?” Graham questioned. “You wanted to find out about Tink’s abandonment.”

“I wanted to fill a few holes, yes.” Wendy responded. “Tink deserved closure. I set out to try to help her find it.”

“You went to the convent, and said what to Mother Superior?”

“She…I just confronted her on going to Tink’s apartment yesterday,” Wendy explained. “I let her know that she had upset Tink very much and I tried to get her to tell me more about Tink’s abandonment.”

Graham scribbled something down on his notebook. Wendy tried to arch her neck to get a look but he covered it quickly with his arm.

“What about last night?” Graham questioned. “You went back there after hours. Why?”

Wendy recalled Mr. Gold’s advice, then her none-too-easy break-in into the convent followed by her confrontation with the head nun. Breaking and entering was the worse of her crimes, but it made sense that it would still put her at the scene of the crime.

“I went ask her for information again, and she told me all I needed to know.”

Wendy managed to keep her face neutral as Graham looked her over, looking unconvinced.

“I read your piece, Miss Darling. I know what you asked her, and the answers you received. I’m trying to find out exactly how you received them.”

Wendy blinked, her stomach flopping. “I…I don’t like what you’re implying.”

“Did you threaten her?” Graham asked neutrally. “Did you force her to tell you everything?”

“No!” Wendy exclaimed. “I didn’t force her to do anything. She…I—”

The door to the interrogation room flew open. Much to Wendy’s shock, Mr. Gold stepped in, moving groundlessly to Wendy’s side despite his cane.

“Questioning a suspect without counsel, Sheriff?” he snarled. “I’m quite surprised at you. You know better.”

Graham glared at him silently. “This isn’t an interrogation—”

“The question you asked just now says otherwise.”

Graham glanced at Wendy. She looked so lost. She was a 22-year-old woman who had barely adjusted to her new life in a new country. He knew she didn’t have anything to do with Mother Superior’s death, and he hadn’t meant to make her seen like she had. He just wanted to know if she had seen anything. His instincts had gotten the better of him.

“Unless you have proof that my client is connected with this tragedy, then she’ll be on her way.” Gold snapped.

“You’re client?”

Wendy turned to him, bewildered.

“Until Miss Darling’s name is cleared, I will be acting as her lawyer,” Mr. Gold spoke.

Wendy looked back and forth between the two accented men. This whole damn thing was insane! She was going to shake Pan until his teeth fell out when she saw him again.

Graham sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Fine.”

With a gentle nudge on her arm, Wendy was motioned to stand. She let Mr. Gold lead her from the room, sparing a partial glance at the Sheriff before the door closed.

As they left the office, Wendy could just make out the sound of a shout and something hitting the wall.

Mr. Gold led her to his car, ushering her in silently before moving towards the driver’s seat.

“He won’t contact you again.” Mr. Gold spoke as he drove from the station.

Wendy blinked, her senses finally retuning. Bizarre as this was, she still needed to ask questions and figure out this mess.

“Why are you doing this?” she inquired. “How did you even know I was there?”

Mr. Gold was quiet. He had an excellent ability of hiding his emotions, especially in his face.

He didn’t answer her, only handed her his business card when they made it to her apartment. She watched him leave feeling even more confused and soul-crushingly alone.

For once, Wendy didn’t feel terrified to enter her little flat. The silent rage she felt towards Pan was numbing out all other feelings of fear and anxiety.

She wished she could just call up Tink and explain everything to her. However, she knew the older girl probably had her number blocked by now, and might even be considering a restraining order as she had with Mother Superior.

More so, she wished Pan would walk right through her door so that she could pummel the hell out of him!

The young possibly-to-be-ex-reporter flopped down on her couch, focusing on her breathing and willing all the negative thoughts around her away. She had to tell herself that everything was going to be alright. That’s what her mum would say.

For a moment, Wendy considered picking up her laptop and giving her a call on Skype. It was noon there now, around tea time. And Wendy hadn’t spoken to her since just after the Cruella incident. She was probably worried; her father certainly was though he wouldn’t admit it.

As she mused on the idea, she felt sleep weighing down her eyes. Best to calm down and mull it all over before she made a call to her cancer-healing mother.

She breathed deeply and tried to focus on the little sounds around her.

Her eyes shot open, however, when she heard absolutely nothing.

It was bizarre, really. For so long every sound had filled her with terror, with apprehension for each and every hour.

Now there was nothing, and the nothingness left and even scarier void in her mind.

At least with the noises, she had felt less lonely.

-,-,-,-,-,-

Pan twitched when he heard the knock on his door. He wasn’t surprised, he’d been expecting the visit sooner rather than later.

Too bad he had to get up; Fuzz’s purring was quite therapeutic and loud. It kept his mind occupied. It kept him sane.

Pan stood at the door, seriously considering opening it. Considering who was on the other side, it was best if there was a six-inch piece of mahogany between them.

“Well?” Pan demanded, loudly so that the man on the other side could hear him.

Pan was met with a dry laugh from the other side.

“Of course. Miss Darling is innocent, but the sheriff already knew that.”

“You’re just insurance, Gold.” Pan said, lying his forehead against the wood. “I called you because you can make sure she stays innocent.”

“You threw her in quite the hole.” Mr. Gold commented. “She didn’t mention your name once. Strange sense of loyalty she’s developed towards you.”

Pan couldn’t help but scoff. He knew damn well loyalty was the last thing on the bird’s mind. She just wasn’t a snitch.

“The autopsy will be complete in the morning,” Pan said. “After that, Wendy will be off the hook and you can stay the hell away from her.”

“Of course,” Gold’s accented voice drawled. “I’m the one she needs to be safe from.”

Pan froze, the silence that followed seeping into his mind and blood.

Wendy’s life was being torn a part at the seems on his account. He’d expected it, had counted on it in the beginning, was even excited for the idea.

Now he was terrified. Better, he was pissed.

Wendy was supposed to be the hero in this story. He had had it planned out when he wrote Mother Superior’s confession. He and everyone else involved would finally have their revenge against the holy terror, and Wendy would get the accreditation of being the one to solve a decades-old mystery.

But it had backfired. Tink was enraged. Mother Superior was dead. And the town was sharpening pitchforks in case her cause of death turned out to be foul play.  

When all this was over, she would probably be catching the first flight back to London, England.

Her lack of presence was already making him feel empty, the quiet threatening to swallow him whole.

No no please—

“Rumford, wait!” he screamed out desperately.

When he swung the door open, his brother was nowhere in sight.

-,-,-,-,-,-,-,-

Tink anxiously dragged on a cigarette. She had dropped the habit during her junior year in high school but knew good and well the right people to bum one from.

The doors to the hospital opened and Lily Tigress stepped out, two cups of subpar coffee clutched in her hands. She’d left Boston the second Tink had called her sobbing over what had occurred at the convent. She had no change of clothes and she was exhausted, but she was here for her friend.

“Here, hazelnut.” Tigress announced, handing Tink the lukewarm cup.

Tink took the cup, making a gross expression when she tasted the watered-down java.

“Barely,” she managed to chuckle, the first happy emotion she had released all day.

Tigress leaned against the brick wall, watching as her and Tink’s breaths mingled in the outside air. She was still trying to wrap her mind around all Tink had told her over the phone. From what she gathered, the mystery behind her abandonment was finally solved, and somehow Pan’s former punching bag was behind it all.

Crazy, and completely exciting.

“Did you talk to her about it?” Tigress inquired as she played with her lighter.

“No.” Tink denied, her eyes fluttering for something to stick to. “There was nothing she could say. I trusted her, laid out my soul to her, let her into my home.”

Tigress mused on Tink’s words. She’d come face to face with Wendy only once, and it was stories of her spirit that had followed her back and forth to Boston. She took things into her own hands with the de Vil story, had defied death when Jekyll made a sudden return.

She had a spine, and she used it as a sword when it came to Pan’s pigheadedness.  He had to have pushed her to publish it. She wouldn’t do something that cruel without Tink’s permission.

She chuckled lightly, wondering just how much time the English-born journalist had been spending with Pan to make her that way.

“You have to admit thought, it’s pretty impressive.” Tigress commented, earning a glare from Tink. “She solved a case in one day that cops couldn’t solve in two months.”

Tink looked away, her mind playing the comment over. Wendy was smart and resourceful, Tink had sensed that from day one. She’d also thought she was kind enough that she would have come to her before she even thought about publishing the story. Tink might have just relented after she gave the head nun a smack down.

That was why Tink was angry the most. For so long she wanted to know who abandoned her and why, and now she did, and she would never have the chance to tell the perpetrator just how she felt.

It was so bizarre, and far too coincidental. There was more to all of this and she hadn’t found the bigger picture yet.

A blast of hot air hit their backs. They glanced around to find Dr. Whale awaiting them.

“Miss La’Belle, the report is in.”

Tink released a shaky sob, causing Tigress to wrap an arm around her shoulders to keep her together.

“Be gentle doc.” Tigress warned.

“No.” Tink denied, wiping her eyes. “Just…tell me what happened to her.”

Dr. Whale pulled out the folder, looking over at the women from the tip of the manila folder.

“According to the toxicology report, Mother Superior experienced an acute overdose on prescribed Vitacin.”

“I’m sorry, an overdose?” Tink scoffed. “Are you saying that she…killed herself.”

“It could have been accidental.” Dr. Whale tried to console.

“No,” Tink said with a shake of her head, stepping away from Tigress’s comforting embrace. “She took those pills for years. There was an accident in the annex…” Tink brushed the details aside. “There’s no way this could have been an accident. It had to be deliberant…but…”

“But…” Tigress stressed.

“Mother Superior believed suicide to be a mortal sin. She stressed it constantly.”

“It wouldn’t be the first hypocritical thing she did.” Tigress scoffed.

“True,” Tink relented. “But…when did she die?”

Dr. Whale glanced down to the file. “The coroner is putting it between 10 p.m. and 4 a.m., judging by the decomposition.”

“Oh no…” Tink gasped, covering her mouth as she paced in a small, tight circle.

“What?” Tigress clenched. “For god’s sake, what!”

Tink looked her friend and the doctor over. “The paper isn’t printed until 6 a.m. She never even saw the story.”

“Which means…what?” Tigress shrugged. She was a part-time reporter; how was she supposed to look between the lines.

“Someone must have heard her and Wendy talking that night, heard her confession. Meaning…someone must have killed her…from inside the convent.”