Prologue

"All are keeping a sharp look-out in front, but none suspects that the danger may be creeping up from behind." -Peter Pan

Peter sighed, after another hard day's work at trying to control the blasted Sirens. Peter was sure they had gotten far more irritating lately; trying to drown his Boys after they'd taunted them was fine, but trying to drown him for telling them they were out of tune was downright dastardly.

Peter pulled a boot from his left foot, wrinkling his nose distastefully as sea water flooded from his shoe and plopped into a large puddle inches from his bare foot. He shook the boot, trying to get the most of the water out of it. When he was satisfied, he stuck his bare foot back into the boot and retucked his pants into it.

There was a noise to Peter's right - the swish of a leaf palm, the snap of a broken branch. Peter turned his head swiftly and was greeted by his second-in command, hooded as usual; the only distinctive fact that it was Felix and not any other Lost Boy was the long nose poking from the shadow casted from his cowl.

Peter inclined his head, turning on his rock to face Felix. He brought up a leg against the boulder and raised an eyebrow, wrapping his arm around his leg so that it bent at the elbow. Peter squinted in the lack of light from the canopy of treetops above; Felix stayed hidden behind his hood, only his lips and nose an identifying factor. "Felix," Peter said, his boots crinkling as he pushed himself up higher to get a better look at his second-in command. "Is everything alright?"

Felix set his chest, his arm still hidden beneath the thick fabric. His lips, Peter could see, were set in a slight line. "Everything will be," Felix said quietly.

Peter hadn't heard him; he was far too busy pushing himself from his rock. His shoes slapped against the puddle of sea water just as the words escaped Felix's lips. "What was that?" Peter asked, turning his head slightly. His silhouette was outlined by the rays of moonlight that highlighted the profile of his hair and his eyelashes, his eyebrows, the bridge of his nose and his lips, the flick of his tongue over them.

Felix swallowed; the cool ridged hilt against his sweaty palm seemed to suddenly hit him. He was really going to do this. He was really going to harm Peter; he was going to cut away Pan for himself. It's for the better of Neverland, his mind reassured, it's what Pan would've wanted, someone just as strong and powerful to take his place once he'd grown soft.

Felix felt unsure, though. He wanted power, defiantly - but did he really have to cut Peter? That seemed barbaric, demonic. Peter had taught him that he wasn't such a thing - he was a boy, Lost, sure, but who wasn't? There was nothing wrong with him. He had enough potential to become Peter's second-in command, to gain his trust when Peter had wanted nothing more than to never trust anyone again. He didn't want to hurt Peter.

Pan was a different person entirely. It didn't matter if the two were attached - Pan was the one Felix had a bone to pick with. He was the one Felix really wanted, wasn't he? He wanted the power Pan had, the magic - and if Pan dragged Peter with him, then so be it.

Peter was unnerved by the silence of his second-in command. Peter turned, his eyebrows knitting together, concern glistening in his eyes. "Felix. Is everything okay?" Peter turned completely to face him and Felix's lips twitched grimly, Peter caught the movement with his quick eyes. He took a step forward, panic constricting his lungs. "They haven't come, have they? Where's Hen - ?"

A laugh bubbled from deep within Felix's throat, a bitter and twisted laugh. "You just won't stay down, will you, Peter?"

Peter titled his head to the side, confusion reflecting in highlighted sections of his cheeks and nose, his parted lips and his dipped eyebrows. "Felix, what are you - "

Felix allowed his impulses to take over; his cloak billowed about him as he rushed forward. Peter hadn't expected Felix to leap for him; granted, he'd expected him to turn around so that he could follow him or for him to at least finish his sentence. Instead, Felix had Peter against the cold rock, practically crushing his tailbone with the force of the boy's body against his own. Felix's knee was between Peter's legs; he brought up his leg in a swift upward motion and as Peter let out a cry, Felix cut him off with a kiss.

It wasn't an ordinary kiss, not soft and gentle and worth-while. It was cold and cruel and hungry, hungry for the taste of Peter's mouth, of his power; Felix could feel the magic even in the boy's delectable tongue and the pained moan smothered by Felix's lips and his gnashing white teeth.

Peter tried to push his second-in command away but the second Felix felt Peter's resistance, he changed tactics. The dagger was still in his tightly clenched fingers, but he didn't want to result to that - not yet. He instead grabbed one of Peter's hands, which had been clawing furiously at Felix's chest, and twisted it back until he felt a whimper leave Peter's lips, still smashed to his own.

Felix still clutched Peter's hand, his fingers forcing Peter's to intertwine. Felix allowed an inch between their lips; he examined Peter's face, the blood that flowed from his cut mouth, the distrust in his wide eyes. Felix blinked, a thought coming to his mind - he could hear Peter's voice jeering at him - Bad form, Felix, haven't I taught you better than that?

Felix's nostrils flared; his hood had fallen away and the scar on his face seemed to slice his face diagonally in two. The blood of Peter's shone ripe-red on Felix's demonic smirk; his tongue flicked and he swallowed the taste of Peter's pain, his dangerously wide grin overcoming his face, his scar seeming to crack it even more. He came in close to Peter's neck, seeing one of his veins bulge. He let his warm breath, hot with the scent of Peter's blood, lick against Peter's ear. Felix pulled up the knife, his elbow lifting his cloak with it.

"I'm sorry, Peter," Felix said, "but the Boys deserve a real Ruler, one who hasn't grown soft, weak. This is what you would've wanted. Don't worry; I won't kill you, Peter. I'm killing Pan, then we can become one. You and I."

Peter caught sight of a tip of metal glinting in the moonlight as Felix lifted his arm higher. Peter finally overcame his shock. He tried to quickly think of a way out of this; he immediately did what he thought. He disappeared from Felix's lusty grip until he was several feet away, trying to run despite the pain throbbing between his legs and the gash gushing from his lip.

Felix blinked for a moment; suddenly, Peter wasn't there. His hand that had been intertwined with his slapped against the rock, as did his knees. Anger contorted his face as he bared the knife out; the moonlight highlighted the dripping oily tip. Felix wasn't going to let Pan get away so soon. The sick smirk grew in the malevolent lighting; why, this was a game, just as Peter said. And Felix couldn't let a cheater such as Pan win, now could he? That was bad form, horrible form, even. It was unacceptable. A howl much like Peter's own crow resounded in the woods from Felix's throat; surely the Boys and the Sirens would hear. "Time to play," Felix said, chuckling as he twirled the knife by the hilt.

...

Peter's head whipped back at the sound. It was defiantly Felix, he was sure of it. His lip stung at the mention of the betrayal, still fresh and just as painful, even if Peter was having a hard time understanding Felix's rashness. He heard Felix emit several high howls - a long, a short, a long. An SOS signal - for whom, Peter could only guess.

Peter quickened his step, disappearing mid-leap to appear several feet away. He did this several times until he had reached the outskirts of his camp - which was staked out by several boys with bows and arrows and knives, thick clubs and sharpened spears. Peter's breath caught in his throat and he cursed quietly - how long had Felix been planning an ambush against him?

"Quite a while now, actually," Felix spoke behind him, near his ear. Peter whirled around; he knew the movement had the staked Boys on guard now as he could hear their bowstrings being pulled taunt as he had taught them, their swords bite the air in that cursed twirl he had precariously gifted them and the clubs hit palms threateningly behind him. He could hear dirt crunch beneath their worn shoes. "Even before Henry came to Neverland, really; you were lacking even then, Peter, but this boy ... He was the last straw."

Felix came closer, the blood of betrayal still glinting on his lips. He spread his hands and looked at Peter; at this distance, Peter could see the malevolent glint in his demonic eyes. He couldn't even see the colour in them anymore. Felix was more than Lost - he was Mad.

"You were lacking power," Felix spoke, his voice low. "You were lacking belief. I knew you were already low on it - it's been quite obvious how much this island depends on magic since its depletion. If I were Ruler of Neverland, this depletion never would've happened. I would've kept a tight enough hold - I would've kept belief circulating without the use of pipes, Pan, without the use of cheating."

Peter's lip curled up in a snarl; it only caused more blood to flow from his bitten mouth. "I do not cheat nor have I ever," Peter managed around the blood staining his white teeth.

Felix laughed, another cutthroat sound. "Your pipes are a cheater's tools, Pan; just as your magic is."

Peter's jaw tightened and his bloody lips pursed. Felix smiled before saying, "You are a cheater, Pan. You're using us - playing us like your games you like so much. I won't stand for it any longer - Boys!"

The staked Boys leapt for Peter, but he wasn't there. He was already in the center of the camp, lit only by the crackling hearth as he ran to where Henry lay, sleeping with his back to the fire. Peter dropped down beside him and shook his shoulder violently. "Henry, Henry, wake up, please," Peter, whispered frantically, shoving the boy harder. "Henry, we need to go now - "

Henry rolled over, squinting his bleary eyes at Peter. "What's going on - ?"

"I'll explain on the way," Peter said, kneeling up slightly to pull Henry up into his arms, bridal-style. He then stood straight and glanced quickly over his shoulder. "We need to go find your family, keep you safe - "

The whiz of an arrow slicing through the air met Peter's ears seconds before he felt it; the arrow tip embedded itself in his shoulder and he winced, his body bending over Henry's in an act to further protect him from the sudden onslaught of arrows and knives being thrown from behind him.

The rest of the Boys were awakening now - Peter could tell by the howls of pain as innocent lads were hit with arrows meant for him, for clubs meant for his bruising and knives meant for his heart. Henry's eyes had widened and he was shouting in surprise, clutching fistfuls of Peter's vest in his white-knuckled hands as Peter took off running, out of his camp, away from his Boys, away from his family.

Peter hesitated when he got to the outskirts; he looked back over his shoulder and could see a story played out by all of the shadows - the beating of innocent Boys who had always stood by Peter, the howling of deranged lads and the smirking figure of Felix standing among them, a hand raised in a salute to Peter as he mouthed three words: "Bad form, coward."

The arrow to his side was the only thing that made him turn and run, this time without looking back. He ran fast between periods where he would disappear with Henry still in his arms; he could feel his power diminishing, himself weakening with each painful breath but he couldn't stop now, not until he had Henry somewhere safe, somewhere he would be okay...

When Peter finally collapsed to his knees and Henry was suddenly no longer in his arms, Peter took his first full breath - only to have it caught in his throat as Henry's family, whom Peter had deliberately ran to, came from the foliage of the trees, each armed and angry.

Peter swallowed his breath, his Adam's apple bobbing painfully against the sword blade digging a fine scarlet line into his throat by none other than Prince Charming. Peter didn't even have the energy to smirk up at Henry's steely-eyed grandfather; in fact, in that moment, Peter's eyes watered and he shouted incredulously, "Are you lot completely thick?! We need to hide, now! You can threaten me later, alright, but I'd have to live till then!"

The rest of Henry's family, whom had been engrossed in hugging the boy, turned at the sound of Peter's cracked voice, the broken stalagmites of tone that came from the boy's chest, from the back of his throat, from the back of his very soul - the soul of the good boy who only wanted to save other children like him from the hardships of growing up.

Peter tried to hold back the emotion struggling to leak down his cheeks, his lips bleeding furiously down his chin as he tried to bite down his threatening sobs. He wouldn't cry - not in front of these adults. Instead, he placed a trembling finger against the sharp blade that had begun to slightly pull back from his throat as Charming's eyes grew soft; he pushed it away gently, feeling the humid air assualt the cut against his throat. He felt all the pain from earlier - poison currently leaked from his side, staining his vest a slick blackened red; an arrow shaft poked from his left shoulder, the tip embedded deep in his skin. The worst pain of all, however, was the pain of betrayal, still visable on Peter's lips, in his bruised tailbone, in his hand that hit him with shocks of jagged pain as his bones clinked together - his chest felt constricted as he tried to wrap his head around what Felix had done to him and why.

Henry was still wrapped in a side hug by both of his mothers, squished in between them; their faces weren't focused on him this time, but the broken boy that they had earlier pinned an enemy. Regina's bitterness still shone in her slight movements, like the twitch of the scar on her pursed lips or the dip of her eyebrows; but Emma's lips were parted to reveal her teeth as she watched Peter struggle to contain his emotions. In their eyes, Henry knew they were seeing himself in Peter; that's all he was, wasn't it? He was just a kid that didn't deserve what was happening - although, Henry wasn't in his right mind to understand what had happened nor was Peter.

Peter's body shook as he said again, "We need to go before he comes. If he does, none of you will be able to go home. I won't be able to give permission for your leave ... not if I'm not Leader anymore."

Hook stepped forward, staring in downright confusion at the demon before him. He didn't seem like a demon now - he seemed more like a battered boy. Hook couldn't wrap his head around that; Pan wasn't one to look this weak especially in front of his enemies - unless ... they weren't enemies anymore. As if they were finally on common ground. "Pan," Hook said, his black eyebrows furrowed close, "who's this 'he?'"

Peter closed his eyes painfully. "Felix," Peter said, opening his eyes to stare at each of the adults, head-on, as if daring them to belittle him, "He's declared war."

"War?" Charming asked, blinking. "Why would he want to - "

Peter's hand moved to his cut lips and his fingers brushed them, ever so slightly; he brought his hand away quickly, wincing. "He believes I'm a cheater," Peter said, his voice hoarse, "that I'm not fit to be Leader anymore; but Neverland under Felix's rule would be disastrous. Not just for this world - but for all worlds."

Peter turned slightly and in the dappled light, the adults caught the first glint of the boy's bloodied side. Snow's bow arm fell to her side. Charming's jaw dropped. Regina's grip on Henry grew stronger as Emma searched frantically for her son's hand to which she then clung to. Even Hook went to his rum bottle at the sight.

Peter gave a pained gasp of a sigh. "Which now you know," He said through clenched teeth, "is why it is so important that we hurry up and get off level ground while we still can."

Regina was shocked to see the rest of the adults agree; obviously, she was used to it after being forced into such close quarters with them for so long but to do it so quickly, so willingly, it wasn't beside the former Queen to be surprised by this thoughtless act of gullability - she had just gotten her son back, too!

"Wait," Regina said, her eyes narrowed on Peter; she ignored his plain state of pain, "what if this is a trap? You're all just going to walk right into it and listen to him? Because of him we've been in Neverland searching for Henry - and when we finally find him, you want to help the kid that stole him from us?"

Peter sighed. "I didn't steal him away from you, Regina; typically stealing means the theif doesn't hand you back the treasure, which I have just done, no strings attached. What I really want to do is to get all of you safe - including Henry, especially Henry. Now, would you like to follow me before my former second-in command slews us all or would like you to continue this pleasant conversation?" He waited for a moment, to which no one contradicted him. He nodded and turned, showing the arrow still biting in his shoulder; he reached back and pulled it out, hissing, before letting the arrow drop to the dirt. "Follow me," He said, his voice thick in pain, "I have an idea on where we can hide for now; not even Felix knows of it."

The adults grudgingly followed the former demon, only determined to go on when they looked back at Henry, decked out in Lost Boy get-up. He was talking to them all, trying to answer multiple questions in a single sentence while fending Regina and Snow from smoothing down his hair. Peter would stop and look back, not at the adults as his focus, but Henry - and each time, his eyebrows would furrow and his lips would sting as if telling him that maybe Felix had been right somewhere - maybe Peter did have a liking for Henry, enough to make his second-in command jealous and want to have Peter (and Neverland) at his full control.

All Peter knew was that Felix would never get away with it.