Just Believe
Author's Note: I don't know if it was just me, but, while I loved the idea of Peter Pan being the villain, I was extremely disappointed with who Peter turned out to be. Peter Pan is supposed to be the epitome of youth and then he turns out to be an old man? I just didn't like that at all. So, this is my own idea of a background story for him, with some twists to make it different.
Storybrooke was a quaint little town. It was the type of place where everyone knew everyone and as you walk down the street you were sure to get smiles and greetings from everyone you passed. There were fundraisers and parties that everyone got involved in. You were never short a friendly face in Storybrooke. It was a place where you could live comfortably for the rest of your life.
Benji hated it here.
He hated how there was never anything to do in a place that small, how there was never an adventure to have. He hated how everyone knew each other's business and it was near impossible to keep a secret.. He hated how fun had to be planned in things like town get-togethers. He hated how it was a place you spent the rest of your life. He felt trapped.
He and his best friend Ruby, one of the few people he actually spoke to in this godforsaken place, have thought many times to just up and leave. And yet here he was still, haunting the streets of the place he so desperately wanted to leave.
"Boys!" his mother sighs – her voice was exasperated never sharp – "I'm trying to tidy for when your father returns"
Cassian and his little brother look up at their mother from their position on the floor where they had been playing noughts and crosses on the floor with sticks and rocks. She was standing above them, one hand on her hip and the other holding the broom she was using as she tried in vain to sweep around her son's.
His mother was a lovely lady, with a romantic mind and such a sweet mocking mouth. Her romantic mind was like the tiny boxes, one within the other, that come from the puzzling East, however many you discover there is always one more; and her sweet mocking mouth had one kiss on it that Cassian, his brother or even his father could ever get, though there is was, perfectly conspicuous in the right-hand corner. He had never heard her say a mean word to anyone, she certainly had to have patience to have a child that caused as much trouble as Cassian.
Cassian shared a look with his brother. They were not looking forward to their father's return from selling the wool they spun for a living. They loved their father, of course they did, but his presence brought out a whole different side of their mother. A more bitter side. The side that had her brooding and quiet during the day and then coming home smelling like stale ale at night.
"But mama, we're bored," his little brother said.
"Well, then go outside," she replied with a smile, as though stating the most obvious thing in the world.
Cassian frowned at the unfairness of being told what to do and opened his mouth to say something about it, but then he noticed the way her dark, wavy hair seemed messier than usual and there were purple smudges under her eyes, and he decided against it.
"Come on," he said to his brother and jumped to his feet with his usual amount of endless energy.
His little brother gave a deep sigh, but nevertheless got up and allowed Cassian to lead him from the cottage with a shout of "come back before dark" from their mother.
The two brother walked along aimlessly for a while, the younger in silence and the elder huffing loudly as thought trying to tell the surroundings that he was in desperate need of entertainment.
After one more loud breathe and the world refusing to cave to his whims, Cassian said, "I'm bored."
"Well, what should we do?" His brother said, not looking up from the ground as he kicked at a pebble, sending it rolling into the tall grass nearby.
Cassian thought for a moment, his faced screwed up in a look of concentration that only a bored fifteen year old can manage. Finally his green eyes lit up and he turned to his brother.
"Let's play kings and queens" he said excitedly.
"We can't play kings and queens, there's only two of us" at seven years old his brother was at that tender young age where one things they know everything and has a pedantic eagerness to show that knowledge off.
Cassian raised one brother before rolling his eyes.
"Well, alright then," he said to his brother, not at all put off – he never was when he had an idea - "you be one of them, and I'll be the rest"
Cassian grinned and his brother was unable to stop himself from smiling back as Cassian's smile was a most contagious thing. Cassian opened his mouth so that he could map out their next adventure, spinning the tale like their father spins wool, but before he could his brother grabbed his arm and yanks him behind the tree to their left.
"What-" Cassian started.
"Shh," his little brother hissed back, peering around the tree.
Cassian followed his example and leaned around the tree to see what had his brother acting so strangely. It wasn't hard to pinpoint the problem. It was Big Max. Big Max was one of the more well off boys in the village and at seventeen he was also one of the eldest kids. He was a horrid bully and Cassian hated him. Often his adventures would include one or more pranks against the boy.
"Why are we hiding from him?" Cassian demanded petulantly. "He's nothing but an ugly bully. I'm not scared of him" he said, puffing out his chest.
"Well I am," his brother disagreed. "I'm not brave like you, Cass, I can't stand up to him," he said, looking down in shame.
Cassian frowned.
"He's just stupid," he said. "Picking on people because they're not as big or don't have as much money. All we need is people to stick up to him, and being brave is not a hard thing to do."
This just made his brother flush more at not being able to do something that was so easy in his elder brother's eyes, but Cassian wasn't done.
"Not everyone can be rich," Cassian went on. "Not everyone can be strong or clever. Not everyone can be beautiful. But we can all be brave! If we tell ourselves we can do it, and draw our swords and say, 'have at you, danger! You don't scare me!'" he drew an imaginary sword and pretended to wield it (playing pretend was Cassian's favourite thing to do) "courage is just there for the taking. You don't need money to buy it, you don't need to learn it. Courage is the thing, isn't it?"
The younger sibling was looking up at Cassian with awe and pride now, the look on his face one that only a younger sibling could get. Cassian was his hero – even when they were not playing pretend.
Cassian stepped out from behind the tree now and as soon as he did Big Max set his muddy eyed gaze on him.
"You looking for a beating, boy?" Big Max said with a cruel quirk of the lips. For someone form a more well off family his demeanour and speaking patterns certainly didn't show it.
"Not particularly, but then I suppose someone as stupid as you can only think of beating someone up and nothing else. Surprising, because you'd think someone of your size would be able to hold much more thoughts and feelings" Cassian said slyly, taunting him as he always did with friends and foe alike.
Big Max set his jaw and glared angrily at Cassian, clenching his meaty fists.
"If I were you, I'd shut up now," Big Max snarled.
"If you were me, I'd be ugly," he retorted without missing a beat.
Big Max took a threatening step forward so that he could tower of the slighter boy. Cassian was by no means small for his age, in fact he was slightly taller that average, but he was also rather skin and his best defence is always more his keen mind and sharp wit rather than brute strength.
Big Max leaned forward to hiss, "You're dead," in his face and Cassian appeared even smaller than normal in that moment as he cowered away slightly.
Cassian was not quite like other boys; but he was afraid at last. A tremor ran through him, like a shudder passing over water when he and his brother would throw a pebble into the river; but on the river one shudder follows another until there are hundreds of them, and Cassian felt just the one. Next moment he was standing straight again and a drum beating within him.
"To die would be an awfully big adventure," he said and he even had the gall to grin.
Of the few people he spoke to in Storybrooke by far his favourite, excluding his best friend, was Henry Mills. Maybe it was his imagination that everyone else in the town seemed to sorely lack, maybe it was the fact that he didn't shy away from the troublemaking Benji like many people did, or maybe it was because for a ten year old he wasn't as predictable as everyone else.
Benji had been Henry's babysitter for as long as he could remember as between the duties of being Mayor, sleeping around with the sheriff (Something she didn't know he knew about) and being cruel to the inhabitants or her town, Mayor Mills didn't have much time to be with Henry.
"Can we go to the park?" Henry asked as they walked from the bus stop.
Both of them were clad in their school uniforms, Benji being at the unfortunate age of seventeen where he was still stuck in the hell of high school. He often wanted to drop out of school and find something more enjoyable to do, but his father, controlling as he is, would never allow tat.
"I've got to get you home," Benji said, just as he had to the other four suggestions of alternative places to go. "Your mom wants you to have done your homework and if it's not you just know it's going to be my fault"
"I don't have to do my homework," Henry sighed, adjusting his backpack straps on his shoulders.
"And how's that?" he asked, one brow rose as he looked down at the kid and there was amusement in his green eyes.
"Because it's exactly the same work as it was yesterday and the day before that and the day before that and the day before that. We're living the same day over and over again. Time's frozen here" Henry explained, pointing towards the clock tower, the face of which was still stuck at 8:15.
Benji laughed and shook his head.
"Henry, the clocks broken, it's not frozen. And I think I would have noticed if I was living the same day over and over again" he said with a grin and then muttered bitterly, "Though with how dull this town is sometimes it feels like it"
"But you don't notice! None of you do!" Henry burst out, looking as though this had been bothering him for a while. "And I can prove it. As we round the corner Mrs Goodwin will fall over and spill everything from her bag and you'll laugh"
Benji looked at Henry sceptically, his brows raised, but the certain look on his face didn't falter. Sure enough, just as they rounded the corner across the street young Mrs Goodwin tripped on her heels and the contents of her bag spilled across the floor. Benji went to laugh as she scrambled to pick everything up but it died in his throat as he looked down at Henry, who had a rather smug look on his face.
"…Okay," Benji said slowly, rather uneasy now. "Let's say everything you said is true, that time's frozen here-"
"-which it is," Henry cut in.
"If time is frozen here," Benji went on, ignoring the interruption. "Why us? Why this town?"
Far from looking confused or put out by this question, Henry grinned. Normally it was something Benji loved about Henry, how unflinching he was in his ideas and plans, how imaginative he was, it was one of the things that allowed Benji to see himself in the kid, but right now he was rather freaked out and he was tired from spending all day at school and he just wanted to go and have a coffee at Granny's diner, catch up with Ruby, and go home, hopefully getting to his room with minimal contact with his father.
"I was hoping you would ask that," Henry said.
Benji stopped walking as Henry did and the kid pulled his bag from his back and from the backpack emerged a large, brown leather-bound book. Once upon a time was sprawled across it in fancy gold writing.
"Everything we need to know is in here," he continued, thrusting the book at Benji.
Benji took the book and began to flip the pages. He stopped as he reached a large picture of Snow White encased in a glass coffin, beautiful features arranged to show she was in a deep sleep.
"A book of fairy tales?" Benji asked, doubt clouding his voice as his brows rose again. (His eyebrows were always very animated as he spoke).
"They're not just fairy tales," Henry insisted, turning the page until it stopped on Red Riding Hood and her Granny opening their door to a boy in a green cloak. "Everything in this book is real. That's Ruby and her grandmother, and that" – he pointed to the boy in the green cloak – "is you"
"Of course it is," Benji chuckled. "So, Ruby is Red Riding Hood – with her fan of the colour red and her lucky wolf charm that's somehow fitting – and I'm…who exactly?"
"Cassian," Henry answered with barely even a pause. "But you spent a longer time going by Peter Pan"
"Peter Pan? As much as I'd love to be a boy who never grows up and has an adventure around every corner – I can't fly" Benji pointed out.
"That's because there's no magic here!" Henry said eagerly. "The evil queen put a curse upon everyone in The Enchanted Forest to send them here, a place where there were no happy endings, no magic, and everyone was apart from the people they're supposed to be with"
Benji frowned. Henry's eyes were alight with a passion he had rarely seen in the boy, the only other times he got that light was when Benji would spin a tale for him and they would play pretend with his castle in the park. He no longer had the heart to try and argue against this.
"And the Evil Queen is?" Benji asked.
"My mom," Henry replied.
"Henry…" Benji sighed. It wasn't pity or sympathy, it was more likely empathy, he knew more than anyone what it was like to have a single parent that you just don't see eye to eye with.
"It's true!" Henry cried, and his eyes were pleading with Benji to listen to him.
He nodded hesitantly and Henry positively beamed.
"Wait a minute," Benji said, his brows furrowing as a thought hit him. "If I'm supposed to be Peter Pan, what the hell was I doing in the Enchanted forest?"
"I'm not completely sure," Henry said, looking at him sheepishly. "This book does say anything about your time in Neverland, it just starts from where you moved in with Red and her Granny, they're the only ones who knew that you were Peter Pan"
Run. It was all he could do, he had to run. His weapon was gone and he only had magic when in Neverland. He could hear the heavy footsteps of those following him and he pushed himself to go quicker. He was tired and out of breathe, but nothing hurt more than his heart, in fact, as he turned around to glance at the angry figures chasing him you could see the faint sheen of tears wetting his cheeks.
"Come back here, scoundrel! Thief!"
"I didn't steal anything! I didn't know!" Peter shouted over his shoulder, angry and hurt and angry some more.
How could he have done this to him? How could he have left him like this? Alone with nowhere to go and fees to pay with money he didn't have. He was always alone, he was always abandoned, and he knew that better than anyone. Why would he do this?
His footing slipped and suddenly he found himself tumbling down a leafy bank. He cried out in pain as branches caught at his green cloak and thorns scratched at his sun drenched skin. When he finally landed he groaned and rolled over to his side to cough and spit a leaf from his mouth. His green eyes squeezed shut as he breathed heavily to get past the pain. He had almost forgotten what it was like to live like this. It reminded him all over again how much he hated the Enchanted Forest. Neverland had become his home, his kingdom, The Enchanted Forest was simply a land that had wronged him too much for him to ever want to be here. Even the air felt different.
He heard voices heading towards him and despite the ache in his limbs and his back and his whole damned body, he forced himself to quickly get up and hide behind a thicket of bushes.
"Where is he? Damien, you said he fell this way," a male voice said sternly.
"He did. He must have kept running," another, even deeper, voice replied. "Just, quick, this way"
Peter covered his hand with his mouth to quiet his breathing as the two men ran past his hiding place. He stayed behind the bush even as their footsteps faded into silence and all that was left to hear was the sound of the forest, so different from the sounds of the Neverland jungle and yet familiar in a way that Peter hated himself for remembering. If they could forget him so easily, why should he not be allowed the same courtesy.
Peter closed his eyes, letting his breathing slow down as adrenaline left him and his green eyes shone with more tears that he stubbornly refused to let fall. He hated him. He hated him. He hated him. And he hated himself for the fact that perhaps he didn't. He put one dirty hand to the spot on his chest where his heart was, almost expecting for shards to have replaced the organ.
"This is why you should never grow up," Peter muttered to himself. "This is why."
Finally gathering himself so that his heartache could settle in an uncomfortable numbness, he forced himself to his aching feet and began to stumble his way through the woods. He didn't know how long he walked for, but by the time he reached the edge of the trees the sky had turned from a deep blue to a soft pink. He froze as he caught sight of a cottage in front of him. The stubborn part of him, the childish, petulant part that usually took control was telling him that he didn't need help, he was Peter Pan for God's sake, he laughed in the face of danger. But right now he was tired and he was heartbroken and he just wanted to lie down.
He made his way to the door and, before he could convince himself not to, he knocked. Nobody came. He pouted petulantly and he was about to grumble about the unfairness of the world and turn away when the door finally opened. It was an older stout woman, with grey hair pulled back messily from her face, but her eyes were sharp behind her spectacles, Peter knew not to underestimate her. He looked over her shoulder and saw a younger girl, she was older than Peter's fifteen by a good few years. Her back hair hung down her back in a gentle wave and there was a bright red cloak raped around her shoulders. She was looking over the older woman's shoulder at him curiously.
"Yes?" the old woman asked sharply.
Peter put on his most pitiful look, his head angled down and his green eyes wide and innocent that belied his mischievous and troublemaking nature.
"Please could you help me? I'm not from around here, I have nowhere else to go" Peter mumbled and while he would like to think he would do just fine on his own, he was clever like that, he knew that what he was saying was not entirely a lie – he would rather die than admit it though.
The old woman hesitated and Peter knew that she was strongly considering sending him away. The girl clearly knew it too as she said sharply, "Granny! He's just a boy" she said, stepping closer to the door. "What's your name?" she asked, her tone softening as she spoke to Peter.
"…Cassian" he said, speaking the name he hadn't used in centuries.
"Seriously?" Ruby asked, leaning against the counter to talk to Benji as he sipped at his hot chocolate. "I'm supposed to be Little Red Riding Hood?"
"Yep, and I'm Peter Pan," Benji grinned. "Can't you see the resemblance?" he asked and he through his arms out and waved them as though flying.
Ruby laughed and slapped at Benji's arms so that he would stop embarrassing them, but she was much too used to Benji's antics to even blush.
"You know I can," Ruby teased. "The childishness" Benji's brows rose sharply and a smile tugged at his lips. "The mischievousness. The arrogance"
"Oooh, ouch," Benji said, putting a hand over his heart and feigning hurt, but he didn't do a very good job as he was smirking. "That hurts me right where my heart should be"
Ruby laughed again and it soon faded into just a smile.
"That kid," Ruby shook her head. "He's certainly something special. I tell you what though, it would certainly explain how awful this town is"
Benji tilted his head in a conceding fashion.
"We should have moved to Boston when we had the chance," she sighed and Benji patted her arm.
"Ruby!" her Granny's sharp voice snapped. "Enough gabbing, people need serving"
"Yes, Granny," Ruby said in a sardonic kind of way her smile all types of fake.
Benji gave her a cheesy grin and waved teasingly as he too got up. Ruby gave him an extremely rude hand gesture that made him laugh as he left the diner. His smile faded as he began the track home, pulling his blazer closer to himself. It wasn't a long walk to get home and he used the back door, closing it quietly, so that he was able to sneak into his room without having to speak or even see his father. He dropped his school bag beside his desk beneath the window. His room was rather bear. Almost as though it wasn't his room at all. Maybe that was true, he didn't feel like he belonged here at all and if it weren't his need to sleep he doubted he would be there at all.
The Tavern was loud a bustling as it was just before night fell. Peter stood behind the bar wiping it down as he winked and flirted with the women and clapped the men on the shoulders or sometimes he winked and flirted with the men and clapped the women on the shoulders. The way he saw it, he was wonderful and clever and handsome and everyone should love him, and they did. It was awfully easy to get this job, in fact the tavern seemed more popular than ever since he had started it. He could spin a tale and his words were like liquid gold and everything he did was a performance, he was perfect for such a position, even if every day he spent into the Enchanted Forest he found himself getting more and more bitter as he got older and older. Soon he would be seventeen after he had been fifteen for centuries. He hated him more and more with each passing day.
"Another please, Cass?" Red asked, smiling as he got to her end of the bar.
"I don't think so, Red," Peter laughed. "Besides, it's almost dark, you better get home before Granny sniffs you out"
Red sighed.
"I suppose you're right," she hopped off of the bar stool and leaned over the bar to give him a friendly kiss on the cheek.
"Oh, the cleverness of me," Peter grinned and as always with his contagious smile, Red smiled back.
"Oh, the arrogance of you," Red mocked, but she did it in the friendly way she always did with the boy who had come to be a brother to her.
Peter pouted. Even if he had grown up two years being fifteen for so long it was hard still to snap out of any childishness that he possessed. He may have gotten older, but he was still just a boy. Perhaps he always would be. It was his curse.
"Where's your cloak?" he asked curiously when he saw that the usual garment was missing. "You know Granny wants you to always wear it" he said mockingly, brandishing a finger in her face admonishingly.
Red smiled and pushed his hand away from her.
"I know, she's crazy obsessive over it, but its warm out, I don't want to wear a cloak," Red said, before she waved goodbye and left to return home.
Hardly ten minutes had past when a loud howl echoed from outside and the tavern fell silent.
The next morning Benji woke up at half seven as he always did, grumbled at the unfairness of having to wake up when told and not having the freedom to sleep until whenever he wants, got out of bed, stretched, pulled on his school uniform, which was crumpled from its brief stay on the floor last night, grabbed his bag and then went into the small kitchen to make toast.
"Good morning," his father greeted when he entered, carrying a paper under one arm. It was then that Benji noticed the cup of coffee on the table and cursed himself for not noticing so that he could have taken his breakfast to go.
Benji grumbled a response around a mouthful of toast.
His father opened his mouth to say something, perhaps to eat with his mouth closed and to have more manners, but seemed to change his mind. He always did that, opened his mouth to say something and then not say it.
Benji frowned. Now that he thought about it, it was a constant thing that he did that. Every morning Benji would get toast, not notice his father was here, and his dad would go and say something but change his mind. Benji swallowed his mouthful, the toast now tasting like cardboard.
"Benjamin?" His father asked, looking concerned. "Are you alright?"
Benji frowned, before shaking himself out of it, realising that he was just too caught up in Henry's theory. That must be it. There's nothing wrong with a touch of de-ja-vu, everyone has it, it doesn't mean they're living the same day over and over.
"I'm fine," Benji said, grinning sardonically as he always did to those he didn't get along with and quickly left, abandoning his breakfast, no longer feeling hungry.
His father sighed and put his head in his hands.
He walked to the bus stop and the bus arrived five minutes later and Kieran Griffith ran after it, running late, just as he had the day before, and the day before that and the day before that. He got to school and sat down in his seat and learned quadratic equations and sat alone at lunch and read To Kill a Mockingbird and learned how to make a lightbulb work with a potato, just as he had the day before, and the day before that, and the day before that. He left the school and got shoved by Billy Jenkins and met Henry on the bus home just as he did the day before, and the day before that, and the day before that.
Finally, as he walked with Henry and Mrs Goodwin fell, spilling the contents of her bag, as they rounded the corner, he snapped.
"Okay, this is getting ridiculous!" he exclaimed.
Henry jumped in surprise, looking up at him with wide eyes, as before then they had been walking in companionable silence.
"What?" Henry asked.
"Everything that happened today, happened yesterday, and the day before, and the day before. I didn't notice it before, but it has," Benji said.
Henry grinned.
"So you believe me?"
Benji hesitated. Sensing his weakness, Henry ploughed on, looking more passionate than ever as he was on the cusp of having someone to believe beside him.
"Okay, but answer me this, do you remember when my mom adopted me?"
"Of course," Benji answered straight away. "It was the talk of the town. Ruby told me when I went to the diner after school"
"After school? So you were still in high school?" Henry said, getting a sly smile on his face.
"Yes…I mean…no…" Benji's brows furrowed in confusion. In his head he knew that if Henry was ten and he was seventeen that meant he must have only been seven when he arrived in Storybrooke, but for the life of him he couldn't remember ever being any younger.
He looked at Henry and his eyes must have shown him what he wanted to see as he grinned and asked, "Believe me now?"
Benji gave a reluctant smile and shook his head. Sometimes the kid was too like him for him to handle. Perhaps a more innocent, nicer version of him, but very similar in some aspects nevertheless.
"About time standing still? Maybe. About me being Peter Pan and your mom being the Evil Queen? Hardly" he replied.
Henry sighed in disappointment.
"Please? You're Peter Pan, if anyone can believe, it you," Peter said in that innocent way he had, looking up at him with pleading eyes.
Benji didn't know why but there was always something that connected him and not just because they were similar. It was like he reminded him of someone, but he just couldn't place who it was that Henry reminded him of. It was no one in Storybrooke surely, but then, of course, Benji had never left Storybrooke.
"…I believe you" Benji said finally.
"I knew you would! I knew it!" Henry exclaimed and threw his arms around Benji's waist and hugged him tightly.
Benji chuckled and hugged him back, resting his chin on the top of his head.
"Now you can help me plan, you're good at that," Henry said excitedly when he pulled away, looking up at him with the brightest smile ever and for once it was Benji that couldn't help but smile back.
"Wait, we have to plan?" Benji asked, his brows raising as they continued to walk. "Plan what exactly?"
"Plan how to break the curse. So far I've been trying to piece together who different people are. You're Peter Pan, my mom's the Evil Queen, Mary-Margaret is Snow White, Ruby is Red Riding Hood and Doctor Hopper is Jiminy Cricket, but that doesn't help us break the curse, for that we need something else, or rather someone else" Henry explained.
"And who is this someone?" Benji asked, amused at how determined Henry was being.
"My mother" Henry replied instantly.
"The Evil Queen?" Benji asked, confused.
"No," Henry rolled his eyes. "My real Mom. Emma Swan, she's the key to breaking the curse"
"Okay, hang on. How do you know what your real mom is named? I know for a fact there is no way in hell Regina told you" Benji said, holding onto Henry's arm to make him stop with him.
Henry looked sheepish, the expression he always got when he knew he had done something wrong.
"What did you do?" Benji asked, but far from sounding disapproving like everyone else would, a smirk grew on his face and a twinkle entered his eyes. If anything could make someone believe he was Peter Pan that look could.
"I may have stolen Mary-Margaret's credit card to pay for a site to find her" Henry admitted and he looked half proud and half ashamed of what he had done.
Benji's brows rose and he too looked half proud.
"Seems you've learnt more form me than I thought," Benji grinned and Henry smiled back. "So how exactly is your birth mom going to help us with the curse?"
Just like yesterday Henry shrugged off his backpack in order to retrieve the story book. He flipped to the back page and showed it to the older boy. It was a picture of a bleeding prince charming holding a baby bundled in a yellow blanket with the name Emma sewn into it with ribbon.
"And you think this baby, the chosen one, is your birth mom since her name is Emma" Benji concluded.
"That's right," Henry nodded.
"What so we just high tail it to wherever it is she lives, knock on the door and say 'hi, this is your long lost son, you need to come with us so you can break a magical curse'? She'll have you committed" Benji said. He was all for hair brained schemes, but this one was never going to work.
"No," Henry said and Benji sighed in relief, but it was in vain. "Just me. Bad things happen when those who are cursed try to leave town"
"Henry-" he started to protest.
"You can't say that I'm too young to leave town on my own," Henry cut in.
"Okay, you cannot keep throwing the Peter Pan thing in my face as an excuse," Benji said in exasperation.
"I'm not," Henry said. "It's because I know you. You love adventure and doing whatever you want, you won't stop me from doing the same"
Benji pursed his lips, knowing what Henry said was true. Just the idea of such an adventure made his blood sing with excitement and his heartbeat speed up. It sounded exciting and dangerous, two of his favourite things.
"Fine," Benji groaned, his brows furrowed, rather annoyed at being played by a ten year old. "But," he added when Henry started to grin, he dug into his blazer pocket, pulled out his cell phone and pressed it into Henry's hand. "Every half an hour, you are going to call me"
"Okay, thanks Benji!" Henry called as he sprinted off in the opposite direction, back towards the bus stop.
Benji laughed and shook his head. Turning to go down the street and entering the third building down. The door dinged as he entered. He looked about the shop at the baby mobile with hanging glass unicorns, the creepy puppets and finally he stopped on some wooden playing pipes, carved from bamboo and tied together with vines. He picked them up and turned them in his hands. There was something about them. There was something…
He brought them up to his lips and was about to blow when-
"Benjamin!" a voice snapped, before the owner of said voice cam limping over with his cane and snatched the pipe from his hands. "How many times do I have to tell you not to touch what's in this shop?" he limped over to his desk where Benji had dumped his backpack and put the pipe in a drawer that he then proceeded to lock. "Don't do it again"
Benji rolled his eyes.
"Yes dad," he said, before turning towards the back of the shop to go to his room.
"You think this is the life I wanted? I didn't want you to go to war because I feared for your safety, but I'd have much rather you to have fought and died in the war than to leave your wife and sons with the reputation of being the family of the village coward!"
Cassian sat on his bed, legs bent and elbows resting on his knees. Bae sat in the bed opposite him, his eyes shining with tears and his blanket pulled up over his body as though the flimsy cotton could protect him from their parents arguments. Cassian couldn't decide whether Baelfire was better or worse off because he couldn't remember a time when their parents weren't fighting, but Cassian could remember when they were happy. When his mother's face would split apart with a beautiful smile when his father came home. But that was before Cassian was eight years old and Baelfire was a babe, when his father hurt himself to abandon the war because a seer told him to. Before his father proved himself to be the coward his grandfather was.
"When will they stop?" Baelfire asked quietly.
"Well," Cassian sighed. "Mama went out drinking again tonight and papa wasn't able to sell any wool since that new spinner came to the village so I'm guessing a while"
"I hate this, if only we could be in another world, where we could be happy" Baelfire said, pecking at the stray strings on his blanket.
Cassian's green eyes lit up and he grinned.
"Like Neverland," he whispered excitedly. "It's a place where time stands still and imagination runs wild."
"Are you still on that?" Baelfire asked. For a seven year old he was very bitter. Sometimes it was like he was the elder brother.
"Don't be like that. It would be perfect. We could swim with the mermaids and fly with the fairies and fight with the pirates. We could stay up for as long as we wanted and be free" Cassian continued excitedly, standing up to make grand gestures as he spoke, visibly bursting with energy that had escaped him when their parents had begun yelling.
"Neverland isn't real, Cassian!" Baelfire shouted, the tears had escaped his eyes now as their parents continued to yell, and Cassian's arms, which were raised as he pretended to fly, dropped to his side. "I stopped believing in Neverland and so should you! Grow up, Cassian! I don't believe in any of this. And I especially don't believe in fairies!"
With that Baelfire lay down and began to cry silently, his back to Cassian. In his head Cassian knew Baelfire was just being mean because he was upset, but Cassian was still just a boy and when lashed out at, he would lash out right back.
"Oh, yeah? Well, good riddance!" Cassian shouted and he threw himself back down onto his bed, facing the wall and holding his Peter Pan doll close to him.
"Damnit, Rumple, I want to be free, I want to be happy, but you stuck us in the dreadful life that we may never escape!"
"I believe," Cassian whispered and closed his eyes.