Pitch stared blankly at her stepmother. “You…look different,” she said quietly.

“Well, so do you. After all, it’s been years since we last saw each other…” The Queen twisted one of her long, dark braids around her finger. “You’ve become quite a…lovely young woman.”

Pitch gripped her sword. “Lovelier than you…?”

“Oh, no, no…! I’m not concerned with that anymore…that’s what I’ve been wanting to tell you all year long. But I knew you’d never accept any invitation from me, and I’d all but given up hope on ever seeing you again…until today, when out of a clear blue sky, you finally came to see me of your own free will.”

“I did not come here to see you. I came because I never should have left.”

“Before, I was but a frightened child, terrified of you and desperate to get away,” said Pitch. “But I’ve become stronger and wiser, and…braver, over the years, and I’m ready to confront you as an adult.”

She stabbed her cutlass into the carpet. “Now hear this: my father left this land to me, first and foremost, and you will respect my sovereignty or leave. Immediately.”

A tense silence followed. Lucy, Azor, and the Captain stared expectantly: first at one woman, then the other.

The Queen was the first to move: she crossed over to her stepdaughter, raised her arms…and wrapped her in a gentle embrace.

“…Oh, Margaret,” she said. “I’m so very sorry…sorry for everything you’ve had to endure. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but please believe me when I say…I want to make it up to you. I want to give you everything; I want the two of us to start over together.”

“You don’t have to love me yet; you don’t even have to trust me,” she continued. “Just…let me be your mother again.”

Pitch stood frozen, breathing in the Queen’s perfume.

Somewhere else, far far away from the castle on the mountain, stood a lighthouse by the northern sea. In front of it, a figure like a great fish could be seen, dragging a net to the cabin nearby.

He opened the door to the cabin and tossed the net inside, letting its contents spill onto the floor. “They were really bitin’ today!” he called into the house.

By the window, a young girl sat in a rocking chair, sewing patches onto a quilt. She glanced briefly at the myriad sea creatures littering the doorway, then returned to her work.

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The shark frowned for a second, then put on a fresh smile. “You said ya liked the mackerel, so I made sure to catch some for ya. And look at this—”

He pulled a cracked oyster from his back pocket and presented it to her, pulling it open slowly for dramatic effect. Inside was a tiny, irregular pearl.

“It’s only the second one I’ve found in my life,” he said. “Even includin’ the time I lived in the water, if you can believe it. Never been very lucky, I guess…anyway, I’d like you to have it. Take it back with ya; show it to yer folks.”

The girl plucked the pearl from the oyster, and let it roll into her palm. “…Thank you, Mr. Uriel,” she said, smiling slightly.

“…I’m sorry I’ve been such rotten company,” she went on. “Lately, it’s been getting harder and harder to stop…” she trailed off, then gestured vaguely around her head, not knowing what to say.

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Uriel replied. “I don’t mind you bein’ off in yer own world…at the end of the day, yer here to rest, and I’ll be content with you doin’ just that.”

He gathered some of the fish into his fins, and poured them into a bucket. “Still gettin’ headaches…?” he asked.

“Sometimes,” said the girl. “Not as often as before. I thought once they started going away, it would be easier for me to focus. But I think it’s been the opposite…”

“It’s like my mind is a little room, with a door. And outside the door there’s a terrible wind that blows it open and scatters everything in the room all around,” she explained. “And although it’s gotten easier for me to close the door, it still gets blown open all the time. And maybe…maybe it’s gotten so easy for me to close the door, I’m not concerned about it anymore. Sometimes I even forget to do it. And the wind blows in, and for the longest time, I…can’t remember that it’s not supposed to be there…”

She shook her head, then continued her sewing with a grave expression on her face. “…It’s hopeless,” she said. “I’m no good to anyone anymore.”

“Aw, you don’t really mean that…” said Uriel.

“Yes, I do. And everyone knows it…they just don’t want to say it. I only came out here because I couldn’t stand to see Mama Bear looking at me so sadly all the time— she thinks I’m ill. They all do…so I promised I’d go out to the sea and get better. But it’s not going to happen. I can’t get ‘better’. I don’t even know how…”

“Maybe…ya need a little help.” Uriel turned to face her. “I can row ya out to the Margins. Anytime you say. That Jack fella oughta know what to do for ya.”

The girl stared into her quilt. “…I told him I would stay here. I asked him to let me,” she said quietly.

“Well…every once in a while, ya make a decision, and then things turn out differently than ya hoped, y’know? I know from experience…in any case, from what you told us about him, I’m sure old Jack won’t fault ya for goin’ to see him if you really need it. Hell, he’s probably watchin’ you right now, seein’ ya hurtin and waitin’ for ya. So there’s no shame in changin’ yer plans.”

“Even if it might mean I can never come back to this world again??” the girl cried.

The shark gathered up the net and stood up. “…I’d much rather have ya livin’ happy on the moon than miserable down here,” he said.

“…You can do it, y’know,” he continued, hanging the net on the far wall. “You can start a new life and find yerself just as happy as ya were before, just in different ways. I know that from experience, too.”

The girl sat silently for a moment, thinking. Then she bundled up the quilt and rose from her chair.

“…I’ll help you clean the fish tonight,” she said, rolling up her sleeves.