So this is obviously AU. Very different sort of OUAT peter pan fanfic.

Tell me about this first chapter!

Chapter one: The Bird

The beauty about hiding from Pan in a world without magic is knowing he can never use his powers to find you. His unlimited strength is squashed to dust if he steps into the world-without-magic. I was delighted to know Peter was nothing but normal when it came to this world. But hiding from Pan proved to be a backfiring plan that exploded in my face. No matter where I was, he seemed to find me.

A long, long time ago, I was Wendy Moira Angela Darling. I was Peter Pan's pawn, his pet. With treacherous games and taunting jokes, he made me his. Every fiber and inch of me belonged to the tyrannic boy king, who loved to rob me of my individuality and freedom. He caged me, literally. I was a bird with strong wings, locked up in a bamboo cage, forbidden to fly freely. My rebellious attempts at escaping were squandered by his rough hands and powerful words. His words. They stung like a million needles piercing my heart all at once. Torture was what living with Peter was.

But it didn't start out as torture and pain. The story began with a wonderful flight through star-lit skies, rigorous adventures through mountains, the curve of a cloud under my back, and the warm fire licking my body. Peter always made a smile appear on my lips. He captured my kisses with a sweet innocence and never allowed more than one peck. He had a delicious restraint, and he smiled easily.

Then the games became taunts. If you ask me, Peter saw something in me that created such anger in him that he took it out on everyone. The acrimony started with shoves to the ground, dirty words spoken through clenched teeth, lips bitten to the blood. The aggravation increased with slaps to the face, bruises on limbs, ripped clothing. The answers to all my questions as to why my life was being ruined was always: "Because you fucked me up!"

I never understood what those words ever meant. At that time, I was thirteen years of age, barely blossoming into womanhood, but there was always a back thought whenever Peter came to torment me. My mind always replayed the longing, frowned looks he gave to my body once upon a time. When my dress would uncover more skin, his eyes would dart curiously at the flesh exposed, and a frown would knit his slender brows. Sometimes, his hand would rest on my bare arm, massaging the skin. I merely took the gesture as brotherly love, because that was what Peter was to me back then. The way he acted and showed himself was pure of an older brother, even if I never had one. Nevertheless, he gave me the feeling of protection and the warm fuzzy sensation of a family.

Then, when his anger bloomed, he despised any physical contact with me. Even the slightest of touches would send him whirling down on me in rage. My back would be thrown against a tree, blood would be spat out of my mouth, and I would once again find myself in tears. He locked me up to keep my appearance from flowering more anger in him.

When the torment was getting to an apex, he threw me against the ground and pinned my wrists to the dirt. A feeling, so strong and sour, invaded my belly. I felt the ravenous monster in him lurk through the glassy veils of his boyish eyes. The fear flourishing in me was the fuel to his fire, and he latched his sharp teeth to my neck and left a scar that will forever imprint my flesh.

My tears and screaming and thrashing never once bothered him, but he seemed angered by his own actions. He seemed to viciously hate what he was doing, but at the same time, he seemed to be loving it. All the sweet, boyish chastity I had ever known vanished completely in that moment. All the hope I had to finding that naiveté was crushed to bits when the blood started leaking down my throat.

I yelled his name, but he cupped my mouth and forced the words back in. There was something hard between us, at the place where we connected; our hips. Back then, I didn't think anything of it. But today I knew it was his boyhood expressing all the pent up anger and tension he had felt towards me.

After that episode, I made my preparations to leave Neverland. I was fed up of the aching pain in my heart and the bruises painted my body. I got John, but Michael was out of reach at the moment of my escape. Peter was already furious of my leaving, if I had went back for Michael, I wouldn't be telling you this story right now.

After my tragic escape with a known, local pirate, my life became an immense lie.

I was from the 19th century. Returning to the real world landed me in the year 2011 in Houston, Texas. Michael and the captain hid me under the name Calla Montgomery in Phoenix, Arizona. I entered high school, and ever since, I've adapted to my life.

I still wasn't used to my pseudo name. Even after three years of leaving Neverland, Calla was just not a name I was used to. With it being hollered in the school halls, it made a sickening crawling sensation roll over my skin. Calla Montgomery.

Arizonian high schools were highly stereotypical. Hierarchical ladders of blonde hair, blue eyes were framed on the walls, capturing the engrossing moments of teenage 'hipsters'. Lunch tables were social discrimination. Geeks and goths at this table, blondes and jocks at that table. All the movies which suggested the typical blonde supremacy were bunched up in the cafeteria. Walking in for the noon break was like stepping onto a Clueless set.

Brad came crashing down the halls, my name dropping from his mouth angrily. "Dammit, Calla!" he grunted. His baby round face appeared before me. Eyes the color of crystalline waters peered at me from under thick blonde eyebrows. "You forgot your physics notes in class again." He handed me the worn blue booklet.

The first time I had ever walked into a high school had been the most terrifying experience of my life. The stench of sweat, the loud screeching voices, and the suffocating crowds. I was disoriented, scared, and lost in a sea of extreme unknown. The first person to make that fear dissipate was Brad Wesley. Football quarter back, star athlete, golden grades, and a crowd of groupies was what pretty much summed up Brad. And I liked him for it. He was shallow, and never wanted anything deeper than a question about chemistry. He never once question my origin, which made it easier to like him.

"I'm terribly sorry, Brad," I hushed, grabbing the notebook from his calloused hands. Football had rid all the softness from him.

"I was thinking," he started shyly as we began striding down the hallway, "can I get a favor?"

His baby blue eyes, the size of huge walnuts, stared at me with divine childishness. I felt like I was talking with a youngster.

"Of course!" I laughed.

"The dance, tomorrow," he said all in a rush, "I'd like you to accompany me."

I smiled. The idea of accompanying a boy to a dance was much more formal to me than it would ever be to him. For me, it meant asking my father for permission, dinner at the house first, and then the ball. However, the modern days and the death of my entire family was another reminder that never ceased to haunt me. His question was nothing formal. It was what teenagers did in the modern days.

"Isn't Caroline your girlfriend?" I asked. The first time I'd heard that word was the most complicated conversation I'd had. Girlfriend. Another word for a girl you are with romantically.

"Calla, where have you been the past four weeks?" he chortled. One of his huge hand grabbed my shoulder amiably and we bumped against one another. "Caroline and me are done, nada, nothing!"

"Am I rebound then?" I offered sarcastically. I also knew that Brad and I would never be more than friends. Nothing between us suggested any relationship was possible.

My reply left him speechless. He stared at me as I opened my locker and gracefully packed my school bag. "Didn't your mother ever teach you that staring is impolite?" I joked freely, punching his shoulder. He huffed.

"Didn't yours teach you how to answer a boy when he asks you a question?"

His reply was so innocent. But inside me, I broke. My heart shattered the tiniest bit.

Gulping, I answered, "my mother was just absent for that lesson, I suppose." The words drifted off my lips like wind, and I felt the heaviness of longing drop in my stomach.

With the same naiveté that he joked about my mother with, Brad clapped me on the shoulder and chuckled. "I need an answer by tonight, Montgomery!"

I also never understood why people called themselves by their last names.

"I'll think it through, Wesley." I tried talking slang, but the words were rough and unknown in my mouth. So I simply stuck to my normal speech, and told everybody I had spent my childhood in London.

Brad left, laughing and shaking his head apathetically. I couldn't help a smirk. He was such a boy. His careless personality reminded me of John before our endeavors with Peter.

The thought of Pan sent swirls of mixed hate and fear to bubble in my stomach. Even after all these years, just the mere thought of him was enough to make a good day turn into a bad one.


I was walking from the gymnasium to the cafeteria hall when Jenni and Alison intercepted me. They had bright, shining smiles plastered on their faces, hot pink lip gloss shimmering in the school lighting. "Calla, ha, found you!" Jenni cheered.

She draped a bony arm over my shoulders and huddled me to her body. Alison, on the other hand, settled to play with my caramel colored hair. "So, there's this guy asking for you at reception," Jenni started. I frowned. It could only be Michael.

Alison giggled. "He's pretty cute." I turned to stare at her. The only reason why Jenni, Alison, and I were friends was because they had decided that. One day, the girls clambered down the halls, gripped my bicep, and forced me into Ali's house. They stuck make-up to my face, read me pathetic romance novels, and made me watch movies upon movies. Then Jenni suggested we be a "BFF" trio. Ever since, the pair have latched themselves on me like leeches.

"Did he say his name?" I asked, my English accent heavy against their Southern one. Ali shook her head.

"Nah," she mumbled, fingering my mane again. "He's tall though, really handsome." Her eyes shone with something along the lines of either jealousy or true friendly happiness.

"Got these eyes, like, damn!" Jenni bit her lip, squealing into her clenched mouth. "Where did you fetch this guy?"

I shook my head slowly as they continued to walk me through the building. "I'm sorry, but I have no idea who that boy is," I answered. "He must have me confused with someone else."

Jenni stopped dead in her tracks. She stared me down like I had said something so stupid. "Yo, who else is named Calla Montgomery in this school?"

I sighed. "Beg you pardon, but three other people bear the name Calla."

My comeback struck her dumb, and her ego was faltered. Ignoring my rebellion, she progressed to walk me to the mysterious boy.

We stepped into the main foyer of the building. An afternoon sun had cast a variety of intriguing shadows on the glistening floor. Reflecting rays danced off the window panes, catching my eyes. I shielded my vision with my hand, continuously walking to the front office. When my eyes landed on dirty, muddy brown boots, I froze.

I didn't even bother to look at who it was, or even to guess. I knew who those boots belonged to.

"Hey bird." The dreaded voice filled my ears like liquid fire. "Miss me?"

I gulped down vomit. The fear spread in my belly like an unleashed beast. Breathlessly, my voice sounding like wind, I sighed, "Peter."