They were close—so close to getting Henry back.
Whether it was David and Mary-Margaret's boundless, completely insane hope seeping into her, or some kind of Savior Spidey-sense at work, Emma Swan didn't know—but she wasn't going to question her gut on this one.
It was, for better or worse—usually right.
She took another hack at the jungle with the cutlass Hook had given her—the cutlass that had once been Neal's. For the seventh time in the last half-hour she looked over at him just to prove that he was really there, with her and her parents. Her parents—Snow White and Prince Charming, who were with her, Neal, Captain Hook, and freaking Tinkerbell, on Neverland, about to face Peter effing Pan to save their son.
As if sensing her look, he turned, instinctually, and a pair of warm brown eyes—the eyes she'd instantly recognized in Henry's face that night he came to her apartment—met hers.
The smile he gave her didn't meet his eyes. Emma recognized that look—it said this job was about to go south.
"What's wrong?"
"Besides...everything?" She rolled her eyes. "I'm just...thinking about getting out of here."
Considering their entire exit strategy was built around his plan, Emma did not like the lack of confidence in Neal Cassidy's voice.
She spun on her heel, blocking his path.
"I thought when it came to getting off this rock—" Emma jabbed a finger in his chest. "You were the guy."
It wasn't flirtatious, exactly—but the quirk of his lip brought back memories of happier times— times when, in spite of them being on the road, only a stolen VW bug to call home, her heart would have skipped a beat just to see him smiling at her.
"I am the guy—it's just.." Warning bells rang in Emma's head. "I'm not sure if it's going to be as simple as I thought."
Emma crossed her arms.
"Using a shadow we trapped in a magic coconut to fly a pirate ship is your idea of simple?"
"I think..." Neal rubbed the back of his neck, uneasy. "I think when I got off the island before, Pan might've let me go."
Before she could reply, he pushed past her, slashing at the branch in front of him with unnecessary force—and it took a moment for her to process the words, spin her head around and bound in front of him, cutting off his escape route again.
"What makes you think that?"
"He...kind of implied it."
He tried to step around her—tried being the operative.
"Pan did?" He nodded. "When did you get the chance to chat with him about that?"
"Before he put me in the cage he had to get a few potshots in," he said, shrugging. "Couldn't resist, I guess."
He spoke in the flat tone that suggested the knowledge came from a lot of experience. She turned back towards the rest of the party, significantly ahead of them, now—only Tinkerbell had noticed they had fallen behind.
Emma mouthed "go ahead" to her, and the fairy nodded, understanding. Emma looked back at Neal, clearly preparing himself for her displeasure.
"Funny that you didn't mention this before now," she muttered.
"I don't know if it's true, Emma!" he said, defensively. "It's probably not. He's got a huge ego, if I got the best of him, there's no way he'd ever admit it. When he said it I thought he was lying for sure..."
"So what's changed your mind?"
"He just—" Neal raised his hand and gestured vaguely around his face. "Gets in your head."
Emma knew not to push, and she stepped aside. The two of them jogged together and caught up with Tink, in the rear of the pack.
"So, how do you get him out?" she asked, after a few minutes of silence, as they pushed past another series of ugly, thick branches.
His mouth thinned into a grim line, just as the six of them emerged into a large clearing, distinguished with several large boulders.
"You don't."
A rustling in the bushes on the other side of the clearing stopped her next question—and the entire group—short.
"Whoever goes there—stand down," Hook said,announcing their presence with a lift of his sword, and Emma's parents stepped to her side, Mary Margaret drawing her bow and angling, consciously or not, in a protective stance. The trees shook again, an unnatural quiver, and Neal stuck one arm in front of her, resting the other one on her shoulder.
She saw the near imperceptible shift in Tinkerbell's body language, the pulse of fear in Hook's eye as he drew his sword, felt the tightening of Neal's hand on her shoulder—and she knew.
"Now, that's not very friendly."
Knew it was Pan before he even poked his smug face through the trees. Emma scanned the forest around them. No lost boys. No Felix.
Just—Pan.
His bright blue eyes derisively looked them over, starting with Tink, pale and tense, over to Hook and David and Mary-Margaret and sliding past her altogether, only to land, finally, on Neal. A drop of sweat trickled down his hand onto her shoulder—the shoulder his hand was still clamped onto.
"Well, Baelfire, I see you made it out of the Echo Caves, just as I knew you would...eventually." His face twisted into something approaching apologetic. "I hope it was worth—any pain you might've felt at what you heard."
He tilted his head in Emma's direction, looking to her like the universe's most punchable puppy.
The man at her side clenched his jaw.
"What do you want, Pan?" Hook asked, cutting off whatever curt reply Neal had waiting in the wings.
The boy tutted, and taking a lanky step towards Hook, playfully batted the drawn sword out of his face.
"Touchy lot, aren't you?" He raised his hands with exaggerated deference. "Relax. I come in peace—especially considering the treachery of some in your number." He shot Tinkerbell a pointed look.
"Unless you're going to lead us to my son, there's nothing to talk about."
He leaned back against a tree and considered her, smirk hovering on his lips. That punching thing was starting to get more appealing by the second.
"I notice you don't have back-up," Emma continued. "Has it occurred to you that you're outnumbered?"
"I'm sure your parents, a wingless fairy, a pirate and—" he sniffed. "—Bae, rank high in your estimation, Savior, but when it comes to magic, you're a bit outclassed."
"You want to try me?" she growled, trying to shove Neal's stupid arm aside—he was not moving, damn it.
"You know, I believe I would."
Her parents both stepped in front of her, protective instincts blazing. In other circumstances she might've appreciated it, but now she really wished she had enough control over her magic to shove them—and Neal—behind a protective barrier and have at it with this creep.
"Emma," Neal hissed in her ear, and when she jerked her head around to argue with him, she saw fear in his eyes. "Chill, alright?"
She relaxed her shoulders just slightly and stepped back.
"He's going to make us listen to what he has to say, love—might as well get it over with."
Emma lowered the cutlass and shoved it back in its scabbard.
"Fine. You want to talk, talk."
"Not many people would have the nerve to give me orders on my island, Savior," Pan said, voice brimming with amusement. "But I don't want to repeat myself, so we'll wait."
"Wait for who?" David asked—Emma noted, proudly, that her father was the only one who refused to lower his sword.
"The Dark One and the Evil Queen, of course. They're heading straight for us."
Her eyes shot open in surprise—Gold and Regina were together? When had that happened?— but when she looked over at Neal, she saw that he—wasn't.
"How long has she been with my father?"
He also didn't seem shocked that his father was here, too.
"I don't know. Regina was—with us until Hook told me you were alive," That reminded her of the Echo Caves, and her conscience twinged. It wasn't the point, and she had to keep reminding herself of that—that it didn't matter right now, he'd said he understood—but that almost made it worse. Neal had been too understanding the last few weeks. It would have been easier if he really was the deadbeat jerk she'd convinced herself he was for so many years. "She—didn't believe it was true, so she went off on her own—"
"—Where she promptly found your father, wallowing, and the two of them went and strong- armed a mermaid into retrieving a magical trinket from Storybrooke—one Rumplestiltskin hopes will get rid of me," Pan finished for her. "Pandora's Box."
It took Emma a moment to process the absurd sentence that he had just rattled off so matter-of- factly. What the hell were Gold and Regina up to?
When her brain did catch up, she blurted out the first thought that came to her.
"Will it work?"
The boy shrugged, his smirk—somehow—widening further.
"Who knows? I guess we'll just have to wait and see."
Right on cue, the bushes to Pan's right rustled, and Gold, with Regina close at his heels, emerged from the endless darkness of the jungle. The older man, still dressed in that black leather getup only he could make work, stumbled forward in shock right between Neal and Peter Pan—and froze. She noticed that he clutched a small black box (Pandora's Box? Seriously?), covered in weird carvings and symbols.
Emma could see the wheels in his head working double time—he didn't look surprised to see Neal, and considering her parents had told him his son was dead a week ago...he also didn't seem too thrilled, either.
Great, more drama.
Regina didn't let the awkward silence between all parties last long.
"You!"
The teenager swept her an elaborate bow.
"Your majesty," As his catlike eyes moved past her and onto Gold, they narrowed in calculation. "Laddie. You're late."
Abruptly, Gold unfroze—and immediately he turned his attention to his son.
"Ba—Neal," Gold corrected himself, clumsily. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," he replied, stonily. Not the heartfelt reunion of a father and son—confirming Emma's suspicion.
Funny how he hadn't mentioned that.
"What are you waiting for, Gold?" Regina demanded of him, but he was staring hard at Neal, determinedly avoiding eye contact, and Emma could feel the palpable tension radiating off her ex. Something happened between them. "He's right there."
"Yes, Rumple—I'm right here."
Pan held his hands up, smile wider than ever—eyes glittering dangerously.
Gold shot him a look of unadulterated venom, before turning back to Neal, a mixture of worry and desperation plastered on his face. He seemed to have gotten even stiffer, his grip on her arm even tighter, and it felt like he was trying to shove her back away from his dad, too.
"Are you alright? Did he—what did he—?"
"He was fine, Rumple. You heard him. I've been taking good care of Baelfire—just as I always have."
Gold clenched his eyes and a fist and turned on one of his booted heels.
"I want to hear it from my son," he sneered, baring his teeth and brandishing the box at him. "I'll deal with you after."
Peter Pan's smile dropped. The boy pushed himself off the tree and stalked towards Gold, who stiffened.
"I warned you about threatening me, laddie," He leaned his face close to Gold—and the sneer on the pawnbroker's face instantly dropped, replaced with a lost dumbstruckness that reminded her more of the guy who'd freaked out when he had to go through airport security than of a powerful sorcerer. "We both know it tends to get you in trouble...usually with the people you love."
For a long moment, the two of them just looked at each other, unblinking—it was like witnessing the most intense staring contest ever—before Gold broke eye contact.
"I haven't forgotten," he said, stiffly, staring at the ground.
The former queen rolled her eyes dramatically to Neverland's twinkling, too-bright stars.
"Oh, for the love of—Gold, if you've got cold feet, give it—" Regina marched up to him yanked at his right hand. "Where—where did it go?"
Emma looked down at his right hand, where she'd seen the black box she still didn't understand just two seconds before. It was gone.
"What did you do?" the former queen turned on him, but Gold's focus was on Pan and only Pan.
"Well, now..." Pan looked down at Gold's empty hands and smirked. "Clever."
"What kind of...magic did you use, Gold?" she asked, when no other answers seemed to be forthcoming.
But, to her surprise, Pan answered her question.
"He's concealed it—" He looked surprised—something Emma had not yet scene from him yet—impressed. "—In plain sight."
"Why?"
"It's a game," Gold said, evenly. At the word 'game' Pan's head shot up, his smile widened with a childish excitement that made Emma's skin crawl. "The box is hidden."
"Hidden where?"
"Not hidden where," Pan looked delighted—the rest of the group, less so, especially when he began to stalk between them, looking each member of their group up and down like they were livestock—or a lot of used cars. "With whom."
Identical looks of puzzlement crossed all their faces at once. Gold waved one of his hands impatiently.
"I've given Pandora's Box to one of you—and only one," he said. "It's a riddle. Who did I choose?"
Pan spun around, manic eyes dancing.
"And you do know how much I enjoy a good riddle, don't you, laddie?"
"You're playing a game with him?" Regina practically screeched. Gold kept his eyes locked on their enemy, unfazed.
"Games are the only language he understands," he said, calmly.
"So...what exactly does this thing do?" Emma asked.
"The legend says that it once contained all the in evil the world," Gold supplied, smoothly, matter-of-factly. His tendency to say ludicrous things in that weirdly well-bred manner that he wore like the biggest mask in the world was something she did not expect to ever get used to.
"That doesn't really explain how it's helpful in this situation, Gold," she replied, eying Pan warily. "Or how the two of you got it."
"It's a magical prison," Regina said, crossing her arms. "We can use it to contain him."
"We managed to get a message through to Belle, and she retrieved it from my shop and sent it to us."
"He's hidden it with one of you..." Pan murmured, more to himself than any of them. "But which one? Who would the Dark One choose?"
His sharp eyes considered each of them in turn.
"I think we can rule the fairy and the pirate out, for reasons I don't need to say..." Smirking, he next he looked at Emma's parents, David first—unconsciously Emma's father stepped in front of her mother. "The prince can't leave Neverland anyway, so he's not a bad pick...but neither he nor his wife seem to have much stomach for what needs to be done..." With a wave of his hand, he dismissed them, derisively. "This queen has no self-control, clearly..." Regina sneered at him but kept her mouth shut, for once. "Which leaves...you two."
He stopped and planted his feet in the sand in front of Emma and Neal, looking between them.
"Emma is the obvious choice—she wants to get her son back, she's tough, good but not prudish like her parents, very magical—which you pride, but she's also brave, which you're decidedly not. She can be trusted to use it well. " He tilted his head, Cheshire Cat grin widening. "So why have you given it to Baelfire?"
Materializing from nothing—or perhaps, Emma thought, becoming uncloaked?—a small satchel appeared on Neal's shoulder. He jumped, and behind her, Emma heard her mother let out a sharp gasp.
Gold was the least shocked of them all.
"That's a very interesting choice, laddie."
Neal adjusted the strap on his shoulder, uneasily, and he lifted the pouch up and examined the top, hands fiddling with the flap.
"You want to be careful of that, son," said Gold, clearing his throat, and Emma, not for the first time, wondered how he knew—because he wasn't looking at Neal.
"What is it?" his son asked, dropping the flap closed again.
"It's a magic safe," Pan supplied. "One that your father's enchanted." Neal frowned at the implication of magic, instinctually.
"Enchanted to do what?"
"Pandora's Box can be used to trap anyone—anything, no matter how powerful. Anyone who is a threat will be trapped inside it until they're released by the carrier." Gold put the slightest emphasis on the last word, and Neal looked up at his father, sharply. The sorcerer turned pawnbroker continued, tone stoic. "Only you can open that satchel, Bae."
Neal paled—and something significant passed between him and his father for just a moment.
"I know you'll use it when the time is right."
He gave Gold a barely perceptible nod—and Peter Pan's eyes narrowed to catlike slits.
"Oh, very subtle, Rumple."
He didn't seem angry, exactly, but there was an edge to Pan's voice that said, at least to Emma, that he was no longer playing games.
"Great—you lost us the one advantage we had. Surprise."
"I don't think that was really a secret, Regina," said Mary-Margaret, uneasy. Certainly Pan's expression—a mixture of bored and childishly vindictive—didn't suggest he was afraid of Pandora's Box, whether Neal, Regina, or any of his enemies were pointing it at him.
"Pan knew what you had—something the Dark One knew as well," Hook said. Pan let out a short and disingenuous laugh.
"Is Hook complimenting you, Rumple? Never thought I'd see the day." He gave them all an indulgent smile. "Well, I solved your riddle. What do I win?"
"My eternal respect," he said, voice heavily steeped in irony.
"Not much of a prize. I already had it," Pan laughed. "But it'll do...for now. You have enough to on your plate without me calling to collect."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Because even if you did trap me in that box, you've got two bigger problems to contend with."
"What are you talking about?" David demanded, brandishing his sword in Pan's face.
"I don't know how many times I have to spell this out for you," He gripped the sword and pushed it down as easily as you would a toy. "—Nobody leaves Neverland unless I let them." He turned to Neal. "I hope you haven't been filling Emma's head with promises of daring escape, Baelfire —not after I told you I let you go."
"You're bluffing."
"Are you so sure of that, Bae?"
"Why would you let me go?" Neal demanded, voice shaking. "What reason could you have had to do it?"
"I would think that's obvious," he said, looking between the two of them pointedly. The hairs on the back of Emma's neck stood on end. "I needed you to sire him, didn't I?"
At those words Neal, already pale, looked like he was going to be sick.
"How could you have possibly known Neal was going to be Henry's father?" Mary Margaret asked, incredulous.
"It's quite simple, really," Pan said, rummaging around in his pocket. "Watch."
He pulled a small, worn scroll out of rocket, unrolling it with a flourish and holding it up in the air for all of them to see.
"Holy shit..."
It was an incredibly detailed charcoal drawing of her son. Of Henry.
"Where the hell did you get that?"
"He's had it since before I got here," Neal answered, voice heavy. "He used to have Felix check every boy's face when the Shadow brought them to Neverland to see if it matched. I was—"
His voice cracked and he trailed off, breathing uneven. Gold took a reflexive step towards his son, but the second he saw the look of concern on his father's face, Neal's eyes shuttered up again.
"I was one of them."
"I don't know how the hell you got that picture of my kid—but that doesn't explain how you knew who his father would be."
"I'll show you."
Still holding the picture up, Pan's hand glowed, and the inked lines that made up Henry's face shifted, swirled and then, impossibly—reformed in the image of someone else.
Another boy, only a little older than Henry was now.
The thatch of dark hair lay thicker on this boy's head. Behind the strong chin, pointed up in defiance, was a pair of eyes set exactly as her son's were, but the look in them—the haunted, hunted expression—she'd never seen Henry look at her like that.
She did recognize it, though.
"Bae..."
Gold and Hook said the word in unison, but she hadn't needed confirmation from them to know who it was. It had been so easy the night Henry came to see her to believe he was Neal Cassidy's son, and looking at the image of young Baelfire from back then—the resemblance was unmistakeable.
Again, with no warning, Baelfire melted, and the ink on the parchment swirled around, reforming into yet another face.
At first Emma thought it was Henry again, but the drawing of this boy was younger than the other two. A pair of bright, intelligent eyes shone out of his narrow face, and the nose (just like Baelfire's) was splashed with freckles. He shared Bae's pointed chin, but this kid—probably no older than eight—had a doll-like innocence to him.
"What is that supposed to prove?" Regina asked, scoffing. "It's just another picture of Henry."
"No, it's not," Gold said, softly.
"Is that what you think, your majesty?" Pan laughed. "That this is Henry?"
"I raised him, didn't I? You think I can't recognize my own son?"
"Regina," Gold said, louder. "It's not him."
"Of course it is!"
"So sweet, so innocent..." Pan tapped the edge of the parchment gently and shook his head, tutting. "You'd never believe he grew up to be the Dark One, would you?"
There was a short, stunned silence, before—
"No way..."
"That really you, Gold?" she asked the stony-faced man at her side, currently shooting murderous daggers at Pan for what seemed, in her estimation, to be the least of his transgressions.
"Yes," he bit out, curtly.
"Cute kid," Emma cracked a smile.
"You've got to be kidding me, Rumple," Regina gestured at the picture of the cherubic child in disbelief.
"Even I was young once, Regina."
"Yeah, but I didn't realize you were also Tiny Tim."
Emma choked back a laugh, in spite of the situation—it was too ridiculous. She looked over at Neal, and for the first time since his father had shown up, she saw a softness in his eyes.
"Alright—I think you've made your point, Pan."
He rolled the scroll back up and put it carefully in the pouch at his waist.
"I think the strong family resemblance speaks for itself, don't you?" He gave Emma a wicked grin. "No doubt of who his father is, that's for certain."
She glowered at him—if looks could kill, they'd be halfway back to Storybrooke by now.
Regina snorted.
"That scroll didn't prove anything."
"Regina," Tinkerbell said, exasperated. "You were the one who thought the picture of the Dark One was your son—"
"Do not compare Henry to him!"
"Does it bother you so much that the lad takes after Rumple, your majesty?" Pan asked, lightly, leaning against the tree again. "I mean...he certainly doesn't take after you."
A fireball instantly flared up in her hand.
"Why you little—"
"For God's sake, Regina, let it go. He's only trying to goad you," Gold snapped, impatiently. Slowly, she lowered her arm and extinguished the flame. "We've wasted enough time with these games as it is. What is the second thing?"
"Second thing?" Pan repeated.
For a moment Emma didn't know what Gold was talking about, until—
"You said that even if we defeated you, there were two other things we had to worry about," said David.
"Ah, that's right—so I did." Pan pushed off the tree, and that cat-who-ate-the-canary look he always wore dimmed. "The second thing is—a larger problem. For all of us."
"What could be worse?" Emma shivered. "What have you done to Henry?"
"It's not about what I've done."
"What do you—"
"I don't have Henry anymore," Pan drew himself up to his full height, and if he liked games—this sure as hell didn't feel like one. "The boy is gone. He's been taken."