Almost forgot my disclaimer. I do not own Once Upon a Time, or the characters of Hook, Emma Swan, Tinkerbelle or Peter Pan. I do not make any money off of this story. This is done purely for entertainment purposes.

-Michelle

Emma Swan has had a ritual, one she has adhered to since she was about eight years of age. This is a ritual that would have her climb out of bed every night without fail, find the nearest window, and sit on it's sill. It's a ritual that she repeats even to this night, countless years later, with something that might just be the fading hope in her heart leading her gaze to the sky. That ebony blanket broken up by the stars and the city's lights, Emma has always waited with held breath for clocks all around the world to strike the midnight hour. And every night, ushered in by that welcoming clatter, the midnight star would emerge from behind a cloud, shining brighter than all the other twinkling lights in the sky.

She hadn't yet been old enough to understand that it was magic that she was witnessing. Hadn't been old enough to comprehend the differences in time, how it couldn't possibly be midnight everywhere all at once. All Emma had really understood at eight years of age, was that the midnight star was the biggest, the brightest, the most sparkly of it's kind. Which made it perfect for wishing on.

At eight years of age, Emma Swan's wish had been simple enough. A child's yearning to belong, a child wanting a mother and a father of her own, to love her, to care for her, and to be with her always. At eight years of age, Emma Swan had been wishing for a family, and it hadn't really mattered to her who that family was, so long as she had one.

She came to regret that wish after years of bouncing from one foster family to another. The temporarily families that she had had, numbered almost as many mothers and fathers as they did siblings, Emma being shuffled from one household to another. So many people in her short life, many of whom she couldn't remember fully, their faces all blurring together, save for the worst ones, the greedy ones, the cruel ones, the ones that she most feared.

There was abuse and neglect in Emma's life. There were parents who hit her, who stole from her, who talked down and degraded her. There were parents greedy for the money the government gave them, men and women who had gone to great lengths to make sure little Emma was considered unadoptable. There were women who were emotionally unavailable, using the funds intended for Emma's care and upbringing, on their own needs. There were men who drank, who were quick to lash out, and in one case even where she had been burnt repeatedly by one man's cigarette.

Emma has never been told that she is loved, or that she is smart, or pretty, or has a good heart. Instead she was and is insulted, made to feel small and unwanted. Ugly. Hated. Stupid. And sometimes, Emma believed them, because surely there had to be a reason why no mother or father had appeared to claim her and to love her.

And yet she never stopped wishing, hoping for a way out of her miserable situation. Surely there was someone out there who could love her. Surely there was a family just waiting to find her. It wasn't always easy to believe, to keep the hope alive in her heart. Even as she grew older, her body starting to mature just enough, Emma kept on wishing. Kept on secretly believing in the power of the midnight star.

Things didn't get better with age. If anything they grew worse, and far more dangerous. The put downs kept coming, the thieving kept happening, but now her foster parents saw her differently. The women who got to be her mother, seemed to have an instant dislike for Emma, making her do backbreaking chores. While the fathers seem to leer, eyeing her and her foster sisters with predatory intent. Emma wasn't stupid, no matter how hard others tried to convince her of otherwise. She saw what had happened to the older girls, to the ones who had developed full breasts, who were pretty, who weren't smart like Emma. The ones who didn't know enough to wrap up their breasts under a flattening band of cloth. The ones who didn't know to wear loose, baggy clothing, and always keep their face smudged and their hair streaked with dirt.

Emma had learned to hide as best that she could. Not just with her physical appearance, but with how often she was seen by those overly touchy, predatory fathers. It kept her from being molested, from being abused and raped.

Not wanting to be noticed, Emma kept quiet about what went on in these houses. She knew from the older girls' experiences, that to speak out, was to get a beating on top of being molested. Speaking out never accomplished much, and neither did running away. Emma was always found, if not in the city she had started in, then in a new one, given to a new foster family, with their own set of cruelty and perversions.

Emma wasn't always safe from her own foster brothers and sisters. The children were always angry and upset, quick to pick fights, and even quicker to do harm. Food wasn't always plentiful, the older children quick to starve the younger ones out of their portion of the meals. Drugs were often used, and sometimes the older children traded sexual favors for things that they wanted. Other times, the boys might just take what they wanted, regardless of what their foster sisters desired. It was a vicious dog eat dog world, a cycle of never ending abuse, the children learning from the only examples that they had. Bullying those weaker then themselves, everyone seemed out to hurt someone else, caring only for their own want and needs.

Frightened by her every day life, Emma was at times bitter and jaded. Especially when the other children mocked her for her dreams of a better life, of a loving family, where she was protected, rather then terrorized. She was branded naive, a baby, and it was becoming more and more a habit for Emma to be attacked by her foster siblings, who despised her for the beliefs that they had once shared too, before the abuse had shaken them free of such notions.

Emma was a stubborn, hopeful girl, not ready to give up on her dreams. But with every taunting word, every cruel punch, and every perverted touch, she was slipping closer and closer to giving up. To accepting her reality, dismal and as damaging as it was. It got harder and harder to get up each night, to creep over to the nearest window, and gaze up at the night sky. Emma had known that soon she would stop the ritual all together, that she would become just another sad statistic of an even sicker abuse. It would happen, and it was looking to be sooner rather than later.

How close Emma had come to giving up, she would never know for sure. Just that she had been close, far too close to it. She was crying more and more, not so much for herself, but for the dream parents she was giving up on, the unconditional love and protection she had hoped for all of her life. She was only fourteen years of age, and already almost completely without hope. And still she sat on her windowsill, gazing up at the sky, while her many foster siblings slept and wished with all her might for things to be different. For her to have a real family, with people who loved and cared for her, who would protect her, who would help her to be her best and her brightest.

Emma wasn't wishing for more than that. She certainly wasn't hoping for excitement and adventure of any kind. Fun was a foreign concept to the sad girl that she had become. Emma had only wanted love and security, to not only feel safe but to BE it. With her dying hopes, Emma wished as hard as she could, her eyes never straying from the midnight star.

She didn't know WHY her wish was finally answered. Or why salvation came in the form of a boy who looked maybe a year older than Emma was. Of course, under NORMAL circumstances, Emma would never have come close to trusting a boy so close to her own age, be he family or a stranger. She knew all too well the dangers of boys, of how cruel and perverse they could be. But then it was not every day you met a boy who came on the wings of a wish, literally flying to her window from the direction of the midnight star.

Already half dazzled by the magic and mystery surrounding him, Emma had still been wary enough to back away from the window. She hadn't screamed, but then neither did she move to invite him inside. Her eyes had surely been two wide saucer plates, staring at the boy, in his strange clothing, the outfit so far removed from the jeans and T-shirts that were so in fashion among the young boys of her world.

As if the flying and the clothing wasn't peculiar enough, he had a kind look in his eyes, a smile that was warm and ready to flash. He looked like the kindly older brother she might have been wishing for, truly holding no malice in his thoughts or his actions. That alone might have raised her hackles, for Emma had known that sometimes the most cruelest of intents could and did hide behind a friendly smile. But again, she was blinded, be it by the midnight star's magic, the boy, or even her own desperate need for a savior.

It wasn't just that Emma wanted to believe, she NEEDED to. Her hope so close to crumbling, her situation worsening day by day, Emma was desperate for an out. That boy seemed to represent it, and while she wouldn't have gone anywhere with a regular boy her own age, one of magic and mystery? She just might be willing to place her future in his hands.

Only fourteen years of age, her options so extremely limited, Emma Swan didn't need to do nearly as much thinking as one would have expected. Especially when she noticed the companion sitting on the boy's shoulder, a tiny little female, with iridescent wings, and dressed in a curvy clingy green leaf of a dress. Eyes already so big and dazzled, Emma let out a delighted laugh to see the faerie. Then instantly cringed in fear. No one came to investigate the sound, and later Emma would learn that it was the faerie who was actually a pixie, who had used her magic to place a silencing spell over the household.

It was that same magic, in the form of pixie dust, that was sprinkled over an excited Emma. That first time? Emma could only levitate a few inches off the floor, having few if any happy thoughts and memories to draw upon, to power the flight spell. It was actually a small miracle that she could even manage that much, the pixie pouting at the waste of her magic while the boy had given Emma a sad look of understanding. She wasn't the first miserable child he had encountered, nor was she likely to be the last. The sad and downtrodden, the abused and miserable, they were the ones who called out for a rescue. For a savior to fly down and spirit them away, which was in effect what Emma had been wishing for night after night. She didn't get it in the form of loving parents, but maybe just maybe the boy and his pixie companion would prove better than a mother or a father could ever be.

Emma had wanted to believe in the boy, in the magic, and in the midnight star. A belief so strong, it allowed her to summon her courage, to allow the boy to lift her up into surprisingly strong arms. Emma wrapped her arms loosely around his neck, and just like that they were off, the pixie and her dust trailing behind them at a much slower speed.

It was frightening to be so high, to travel so fast in the night sky. But more than that it was exciting, exhilarating, and it made Emma's heart race. Her arms tightened around the boy, Emma not yet able to fully trust that she wouldn't be dropped. But though she clung to the boy with all her might, Emma never once closed her eyes, watching with an avid fascination how the grimy city looked when seen from up above.

A path was zig zagged through the city, the boy heading towards the midnight star. The second star from the right, it took flying until nearly morning before they were able to reach it. Emma actually gasped when they drew close enough to the midnight star for her to make out another world. A world that had a tiny continent of land, with several smaller islands surrounding it, and oceans as far as the eye could see. A landscape that was beautiful even at a distance, and growing closer and closer, Emma being carried through the mist of the clouds, until they broke free of the white foamy film, and were just there, floating serenely through the early dawn sky.

Emma was beyond dazzled, she was overwhelmed by all that she had seen and experienced in so short a time. She clung even more to the boy, feeling as though she might just faint at any moment. The loud boom of what she assumed was a firecracker, startled Emma out of that fainting feeling. The boy suddenly jerked backwards, his arms around Emma a tight, secure grip. She didn't doubt for one moment, gasping as she saw the cannon ball careen through the sky, just missing them both.

Frightened, Emma turned towards where she thought the cannon ball had come from. The firecracker of sound was heard again, Emma spying the ships, watching as the round black objects grew bigger in size, as cannon ball after cannon ball was fired their way. They were under attack, and Emma was too shocked to scream, to do anything more than cling to the boy as he made a game of dodging the cannon balls.

It was at this point the pixie caught up to them, her voice a high pitched chatter that was impossible to hear over the repeated sound of the cannon balls being fired. The boy actually laughed, Emma feeling his amusement shake through her. The pixie continued to chatter until she was red face, leaving Emma with the distinct feeling she was chastising the boy for what she might feel was reckless behavior.

Dodging more of the cannon fire, the boy then took off not towards the ships, but towards the forested area of the main continent of land. A forest so big, it took up nearly three quarters of the land, and made it near impossible for the people on the ships to find them once the boy dropped down beneath the treetops.

Emma relaxed only marginally once they were out of sight of the ships. A few of the cannons fired off several more times, perhaps in frustration of their lost quarry. Emma shivered at the sound of the cannon balls launching, but soon lost herself to the odd sight of how tall the trees of this forest really were. Tall enough that if one were to fall from a branch, one would surely be squashed flatter than a pancake on the ground!

Again Emma clung to the boy who took off at an even faster speed. The pixie was in hot pursuit, her dust an angry red. She couldn't keep up with the boy's speed, and would have been lost to Emma's eyes, if not for the glow of her pixie dust.

It was another zig zagging flight, though this time it felt infinitely more scary. The boy could have crashed at any moment into one of the many trees that made up the canopy of the forest, and yet he avoided them all, sometimes at the last second, until finally he came across a glade, with the remarkable sight of a house almost half as tall as the trees it was made out of.

It wasn't a house like any Emma was used to, reminding her more of the rickety, shoddily made tree house of the family that had fostered her when she was ten. But where that tree house had been small, and dangerously close to falling apart at it's seams, this one was huge, looking well made and sturdy. With many windows, and colorful bits of cloth streaming out of them. With no discernable door, the windows too high up to permit entry to anyone approaching from the ground.

Still staring at the house, Emma was startled anew when the boy let out a loud, bird like noise. And just like that, hatches in large stumps on the ground opened, young children pouring out of them. Younger then Emma, and all male, the boys gave excited shouts, waving and jumping up and down in a boisterous display of greeting.

Suddenly shy and uncertain, Emma didn't tighten her grip on the boy who carried her. The boy who was lowering them to the ground, right amidst the excited group of male children.

"Peter, Peter!" Many of them shouted in excitement.

"Peter, you've finally brought her!" Others cried.

"Is it her? Is it really her?" Some wanted to know. And then the hand of what had to be the smallest boy, tugged on the fabric of Emma's pajama bottoms.

"Are you really going to be our mommy?"

Emma had no idea what to say to that, her jaw dropping open in her shock. If the boy, who she was now pretty sure was named Peter, hadn't been holding her, she would have swayed then collapsed amidst the group of boys.

"Tinkerbelle!" Came a new round of excited exclamations. The pixie had finally caught up to them, looking even redder in her anger. She circled around the boy Peter's head, carefully dusting him with pixie dust, before coming to land on Emma's shoulder. Emma didn't know why, but the boy scowled at the pixie.

The youngest boy was still waiting for an answer, his green eyes looking close to tears, his lower lip trembling. He repeated his shocking question, and Emma had no idea what to say to him.

"It's too much." The pixie, Tinkerbelle announced. "You are going to overwhelm the poor girl before she's even settled in."

Peter gave a sheepish look, shrugging his shoulders slightly. But before he could say anything, Emma was speaking.

"Okay, could someone explain to me just what is going on? Why I am here, wherever here even is..." She didn't outright ask about the boys, knowing the look of orphans when she saw them. They all had the same look in their eyes, a look Emma had seen a thousand times in her own reflection in the mirror. A sad, lost look, a desperate yearning for love and affection and all the good things a parent was supposed to give a child.

"This is Neverland." The boy Peter finally spoke after a moment's hesitation. "A world where one's most desperate wishes can come true."

"We've been waiting for you Emma." Added the pixie Tinkerbelle. "Waiting for a long time."

"For me?" Emma couldn't help but be suspicious.

"For someone like you." Peter hastily amended. "For someone kind and caring, for someone who needed to be loved, for someone who wanted to be part of a real family..."

"That could have been anyone." Emma pointed out, already trying to shift free of Peter's arms.

"It takes a special person to be able to come to Neverland." Peter informed her. "A special person with the right mind set and circumstance to be able to believe in the magic and the land."

"So in other words you needed someone desperate?" Emma demanded. The silence that greeted her statement, was answer enough but when Emma tried to get free of Peter's arms, he just held on more firmly.

"It had to be you." He insisted, staring deep into Emma's eyes. She wasn't sure why, but a shiver went down her spine. Maybe at the sense of urgency when he spoke, the sense of sureness he had in his stated words. Or maybe Emma simply wanted to believe she was that needed, that she more than an orphan, or a chance encounter. That she was special and important and most of all required.

But as needed as she wanted to actually be, Emma couldn't quite make a commitment just yet. She was simply too wary, not to mention too young to be anyone's mother let alone a brood of orphaned children.

"I need time to think." Emma announced, and this time Peter let her pull out of his arms. "Alone." She added, when it looked like he and the orphaned children would follow her.

For one second Peter frowned, a hard light in his eyes. It was gone so fast, Emma thought she had imagined it, and yet it still it put her on edge. As did the children, the youngest looking at her with tears on his cheeks, asking loudly to Peter why Emma did not want to be their mother.

Emma didn't stick around to hear what possible answer or reassurance Peter could give the child. She was already making for the glade's far end, doing her best to not outright run from Peter and the children. Her upset was escalating, Emma feeling certain her desperate wish had gotten warped and misconstrued. She let her upset and confusion blind her senses, making her unaware of the fact that eyes watched her from the trees, tracking her increasingly frantic run.

To Be Continued Of Course...

This is more a prologue than anything. Still have to do some world building/setting things up before we get to the main premise of the story. Frankly I'm shocked I wrote this all in one night, and on so little sleep. Though I think I'll save proofreading and spell checking for tomorrow when I've rested.

No title yet...and I also have to make some kind of announcement. I can't and won't promise to always be a quick updater with this or any of my stories at this time. I am having medical problems that affect my concentration to write depending on my pain levels...I'm doubly amazed I got this prologue chapter finished in one night, because with the way I've been feeling, it takes forever to be able to write a single chapter. And yes, I know I owe a certain sequel for the Hook Emma faction. I really want to get at least a few chapters written before the new season starts, but with the way I'm feeling, it might be a pipe dream. I do intend to work on it though...but who knows.

As for this idea, it's a mix of things. Once Upon A Time of course, but also a little of a movie (which might spoil something I intend to do so won't say the movie name at this time.) and a book that I haven't read, but came across by pure chance on Amazon, and was inspired by the back cover blurb about what the book was supposed to be about.

This is ultimately meant to be a Hook Emma fic, but I hope we're all along for the ride to see how it happens. Though maybe my as of yet unwritten summary blurb will give you some idea of what is meant to happen.

This is of course, almost a total AU too...I doubt Emma ever makes it to Storybrooke in this universe...^^:; Unless it's at the very end...which is so far in the future...^^;;

I also want to thank my friend Huntress, who got to read the draft up to when Peter first arrived to Emma's window. I was unsure of a line, and she only shared my concerns. (It had to do with trusting Peter too easily.) The line was ultimately trashed, since it really didn't sit well with either of us, and I was able to write the rest of the encounter hopefully much improved. Thanks hon! :)

2/15/2018 Updated the chapter a bit.

-Michelle