"Malcolm." Peter darted upright, his breathing uneven as he frantically searched around the room for the source of the light angelic voice. Other than Rumple no one knew of his life before Neverland, and Rumple surely didn't sound like that. The room smelled faintly of vanilla and cinnamon, just as his childhood friend Deliah did. He wished for years for her presence to surround him like it had when they were children. She died giving birth to Rumple, he couldn't help but imagine every once in awhile what it'd be like if she was still here. Always smiling and optimistic she brought out the best in him, saving him from himself when they were younger. He felt he had to give her the one thing she wanted, even though it meant her death and leaving him with a child he wasn't ready to take care of.
Heaving himself out of the bed he quickly began to pace around the room running a hand nervously through his already tousled hair. The heart of the truest believer was the key to bringing her back, and he knew he'd do whatever he had to do to complete that task. He was always a determined man, even before he became Peter Pan. Killing his great grandson wouldn't change his plans, not with his goal close enough to touch. Placing his palms against a nearby wall he leaned forward in a failed attempt to clear his mind. "You look quite foolish standing like that." Her laugh echoed off the walls in the room making a small grin lift the corners of his mouth. This happened in his dreams he would turn around and there she would stand, wearing the same tattered dress she wore before her death. Normally he would whip around doing his best to catch a glimpse of her golden hair.
Slowly turning to face the voice he braced himself for disappointment. Only to find her smiling as if she never died, brown eyes shining brightly. Taking small steps he carefully approached her, as if she was a small rabbit that would jump away if he got to close. Reaching out a pale hand he debated on whether he should take it. Surely she'd be cold after all this time. Turning her palm outward toward him she nodded, wanting him to take it. Though he wasn't the only one shocked when he attempted to, he only grasped the air. Her face instantly fell, as if she to wished she could hold onto him once more. "You're so warm." Her voice was barley above a whisper, but he could still hear the pain. He understood it hurt her, but it hurt him to. He distinctly remembered her saying once before her death "if you love someone your pain is their pain." That made him wonder if he truly did love her, and he was sure he does.
"I'll do whatever it takes to bring you back." He whispered, though it came out more menacing than he'd meant it to. "I know you will." And then her ghostly form was gone, with only a hint of a smile on her face. He wasn't sure whether he yelled out her name or not, but as the footsteps rushing up the stairs to the room he currently stood in became louder and louder, he knew he had. She always had that effect on people, leaving them in a daze. As Felix bursted through the door, sword in hand a small smirk grew on his face. This would surely be a battle he wouldn't loose, he was Peter Pan after all and Peter Pan always wins.