Prompt: the interrogator slapped a pile of photos on the table in front of you. Each one is from a different time period. You are in all of them.

I stared hard at the photos, remembering each occasion they were taken. I bite back a bitter laugh. Even after all these years, Pan still has a way to come back and haunt me.

"How do you explain this to me?" the interrogator glared at me. I shifted comfortably in my seat. Pan taught me way back when how to deal with the police.

I roll my eyes and look at the ceiling. "Where's my lawyer?"

He smacked a hand on the table and stuck his face in front of mine. I could see the sweat dripping down his face and smell the stale coffee and donuts on his breath. "You don't get a lawyer!" He shouted. "You have no rights." He pointed back to the photo. "Talk."

I sighed, thinking over the past hundred years. Pan finding me in 1917, depicted in the first photo of me in a nightgown with perfectly coiled curls. Dancing to jazz music in the roaring 20's, the second photo showing me and Tootles dressed in age-appropriate garb. Decade after decade, until the early 1990's when I was finally able to ditch Pan and his merry band of assholes and start my own life for the first time in nearly a century. He bugged me relentlessly for the first five or so years, but dropped off the map in 1999. Despite his absence, I have still been allotted my immorality and inability to age. (Much against my wishes.)

I snapped back to reality when the cop shoved my shoulder, hard, into the back of my chair. "I said, talk."

I crossed my hands on the table in front of me and took in his appearance of blond hair, brown eyes, bushy brows, and an odd scent of wood polish and Old Spice cologne. "Look, Tony—can I call you Tony? You look like a Tony. Anyway, I will tell you the story behind each of these photos, it just might take a while. Sound good?"

He grunted and sat down across from me. "We've got all day, Blondie."

I grinned. "It might take longer than that."

_OUAT_

"Hold up, hold on, wait," 'Tony' barked four hours later, putting up his hand to silence me. "You're expecting me to believe that this fella here—" He pointed to Pan in the background of one of the photos from the early 70's, showing the two of us holding hands with sunflower crowns on our heads. "—is an immortal boy who reigns over an island in a different dimension, has the ability to use magic, and has a troop of also immortal boys who do his bidding?"

I rolled my eyes. "You forgot about the part where he was hundreds of contacts all over this world, and other worlds, how he kidnaps children and brainwashes them into becoming his servant, and the fact that he's a self-obsessed narcissistic dick who fancies himself a god."

He made a show of scribbling in his little notepad. "Just so I'm quoting this right, that was 'self-obsessed narcissistic dick', correct?"

"Yup."

'Tony' rubbed his temples and sighed. "As much as I'd like to believe that you are a delusional crackhead, this isn't the first time he's flagged on our system. In this day and age, not much surprises me anymore. We got more people doing magic than ever before nowadays. We've been trying to track him down for years. He's been a sideshow act at numerous shady joints, where people would just up and disappear. He had suspected links to a huge kidnapping ring back in the 80's, which you've just confirmed, but no one knew who he was. Give us a name and we'll cut you a deal."

"Wait," I stared at him, not believing the words that were coming out of his mouth. "I'm going to jail for being a witness? I just gave you all the damn evidence you needed and you're sending me to prison?" I sat back in my chair, feeling deflated and incredulous. "American justice system at work."

"You'll be tried as an accessory to kidnapping. If this guy is as dirty as we think, possibly even third-degree murder."

I shot out of my seat and slammed my hands down on the plastic table hard enough to break it in half. 'Tony' stared at me, sputtering in shock. "I was a 15 year old girl. Hell, I am a 15 year old girl. I was diagnosed with Stockholm syndrome for Pete's sake! I was not mentally stable when he forced me to be a part of those things. If I hadn't, he would have killed me. There are plenty of factors in my favor here, buddy." As I finished, a pair of guards burst through the doors. They pushed up against the wall and snapped a pair of handcuffs around my wrists. They yanked me back so I could see the interrogator.

"Miss Darling, his name." He stared at me coldly. "Please."

The thought of his name brought a vile taste to my mouth. It burned my heart as I thought about him, and I knew exactly what would happen the moment I said it. "Peter Pan."

The lights flickered and dimmed, leaving us in complete darkness.