A/N: So why does the Snow Queen/Sarah Fisher randomly make a cameo appearance in this chapter? Because she's awesome, that's why. LOL.

The Short, Cursed Life of Malcolm Gold

A Reimagining of "The New Neverland"

Part Two: Wendy Darling

The Darling Residence, approximately two weeks ago

John and Michael found it nearly impossible to tear their eyes from their sister. After over a century of being separated from her, they couldn't help feeling as though she'd disappear like a ghostly wraith on the wind if they glanced away for so much as a second.

How young she still appeared also took some getting used to. Which was why – over their first quiet supper together since being reunited – Michael had found himself leaning over and whispering, rather pathetically, to his brother, "I remember her being a lot taller."

Wendy, overhearing, cast her eyes up from her plate and softly replied, "To a five year old, I'm an Amazon."

"How's the chicken, Wendy?" John asked next, following a long pause.

"Good," she assured them, smiling weakly.

"We got it from Granny's Diner," Michael put in. "It's a lot better than that place we used to go when we were in Boston, don't you think, John?"

John didn't reply.

"You were in Boston?" asked Wendy.

"That's right. When Pan wanted us to–" Michael began, before John kicked him under the table. Confused, his eyes darted to his brother, who hastily shook his head. "Oh. Sorry, Wendy."

"That's all right." She put her fork down.

"I really didn't mean to upset you," Michael insisted brokenly.

"You didn't, Michael, I promise."

"Something's wrong, though, isn't it?" John realized.

"No, it's just..." Wendy sighed. "When you said we were going home, I... I thought you meant London."

"You don't like the apartment," Michael guessed, his mouth turning down into a disappointed pout. "It's your room, isn't it? John, I told you she'd hate the corner bedroom."

After getting Pandora's box back from them, Belle had made arrangements for the Darling brothers to have a sizable apartment, complete with an extra bedroom for when Wendy was brought back with the others. Micheal had thought she'd find the corner bedroom too drafty, because it had a big French-style window which latched funny and sometimes let chills in. John, though, had been adamant it would be perfect because it had a vague resemblance to the nursery they'd lived in together as children back in London and would be a comforting sight after her ordeal in Neverland.

"No, I love it," Wendy quickly assured him, reaching across the table to touch his hand. She truly did adore her new bedroom. Especially the way they'd lovingly fixed it up for her, all with Victorian and Edwardian furniture, and a mahogany rocking-chair with a heart-shaped headboard they'd bought from Marco. It was just... "Things are so strange here, after all this time. I thought London might..."

John closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. "London's changed, too, Wendy. It's not like you remember it."

"No, I suppose it wouldn't be."

"Besides, you know Archie thinks you should stay in town and keep up your sessions." John put his hand over hers while it was still over Michael's, the blood of all three Darling children flowing closely together, for a single moment pulsing simultaneously like the beat of a heart. "In case he needs to prescribe more tranquilizers."

It was true, Wendy had to admit to herself, thinking of the dark circles under her eyes. Nightmares about Peter Pan and Neverland had made sleep difficult. Twice already she'd woken with a sweat-soaked brow, screaming her lungs out, unable to quiet herself voluntarily. Michael had tried to give her a tranquilizer, only his hands had shook too badly and John ended up having to slide the long needle into their sister's vein instead.

It wasn't as if the doctors in London were just going to hand over brown bags full of strong sedatives the way Doctor Whale did, nodding as he looked over whatever papers Wendy brought him from Archie. John was right. They needed to be here, in Storybrooke.

Letting go of his siblings' hands, John stood up and left their small, circular dining room, returning with something wrapped in crinkly paper and tied with string. "Here, Wendy. We've saved this for you, all these years." He leaned over the table, placing the parcel down beside her plate. "I thought something familiar – from our old home – might help you adjust."

Gingerly, she pulled back the wrapping to reveal a well-worn hardcover book. The Sorcerer's Apprentice.

"It's the book you were reading the night Mother and Father discovered you were hiding Bae in our house," Michael chimed in. "John was sitting right next to you when Father took it away because we weren't allowed to read at the table. Remember?"

Wendy ran her fingers along the battered spine. Amazing to think it had been almost new when she'd last held it. "How could I forget?"

That, of course, was another reason they had to stay. For Baelfire. He was family too. After so long they were finally within walking distance of each other... Maybe they could all be a family again, the four of them. Even if their parents were long gone now. Although, Bae was called Neal now, and more interested in being a family with his own son and Emma Swan.

"Thank you." Clutching the book to her chest, Wendy kissed her brothers on their cheeks and went to her room.

Swaying back and forth in her rocking-chair late that night, The Sorcerer's Apprentice open on her lap, she almost thought she might have good dreams for once. But no sooner had her tired eyes closed, allowing her to doze off, than a sharp wind rattled the window latch, blowing it open.

Jolting awake, Wendy found a small pile of skeleton leaves and sand at her feet.

Two Days Ago

The following message was left on John Darling's voicemail: Hello, Mr. Darling, this is the Storybrooke High School nurse. Could you or your brother please come pick up Wendy? She seems to have had some kind of traumatic episode at lunch. We can't get her to stop crying.

Present Day

As she did every Friday, Wendy visited Tinker Bell in the hospital and left flowers.

Despite the fact that word had come from Bae that he, Killian, Regina, and Emma had successfully recaptured Pan's shadow in the coconut shell starmap and burned it, Tink still had yet to regain consciousness. So Wendy did the only thing she could think of. She never missed a weekly visit and never forgot to whisper, each time before she left, "I believe in you, Tink."

This week, however, after squeezing the fairy's hand goodbye and making her routine whisper, she was confronted with the last face she wanted to see.

Leaning in the sliding-glass doorway, was Peter Pan, grinning impishly at her.

Grasping desperately for the first thing within reach, Wendy held up a bedpan in front of her like a shield. "You stay away from me!"

"Are you planning on reacting like that every time you see me?" he asked, chuckling sardonically.

"They say you don't remember," she gasped out. "It's a lie. I know you're just pretending! You won't get away with it!"

"What are talking about?"

"You're not supposed to be here." Her eyes darted protectively to Tinker Bell over her shoulder. "Leave now or I'll scream."

"Relax." He took a step towards her and pulled something out of his pocket.

"Keep away."

"Give me your hand."

"Why?"

"Oh, just do it."

She reached out with her trembling right hand, the other still clutching the bedpan.

Forcing a handshake, he pressed something tiny and hard into her palm. "My name's Malcolm Gold. It's nice to finally meet you, Wendy Darling."

Drawing her hand away as if he'd burned it, she looked at the object he'd given her. It was a golden locket in the shape of an acorn, roughly the size of a button, on a thin gold chain. "What's this?"

"A gift." He shrugged. "I stole it from my guardian's antique shop."

She shook her head frantically, holding it out by the chain. "No. I don't want it." I don't want anything from you.

He smirked. "Tell you what, you agree to come with me, right now, and get an ice cream, and if you still want to give it back to me afterward, I'll take it and I won't bother you anymore."

Wendy pouted. "And if I don't?"

"Then I follow you around, dropping various pilfered presents like a magpie." He arched an eyebrow. "Come on, it's an ice cream. Who's it going to hurt?"

Was it possible he really didn't remember? That the personal curse Regina and Rumpelstiltskin had cooked up for him actually did turn him into a high-spirited but virtually harmless boy named Malcolm?

"I'll spring for sprinkles," he added.

She sighed. He wasn't going to leave her alone unless she agreed. Maybe it would be all right, so long as they stayed in the open. He couldn't lock her in a cage in the middle of town, could he?

Reluctantly, she nodded. "All right, one ice cream."

The refreshing cold chill that felt more real, somehow, than mere air conditioning embraced Malcolm and Wendy as they entered Any Given Sundae.

Sarah Fisher smiled softly at them. "What can I get you?"

Wendy ordered a vanilla cone with rainbow sprinkles.

"Rocky Road for me," Malcolm said, handing Sarah a credit card.

Her thin platinum eyebrows came close together as she studied it. "You're Belle French?"

"Yeah, you have a problem with that?"

"Not at all." She bit back a quiet snicker of amusement, returning the card after charging the two cones to it. "Have a lovely day, Ms. French." Scooping out the two cones, she came around the counter and handed them to Wendy.

Following Malcolm down to the harbor, Wendy felt herself beginning to relax. This wasn't so bad. Could she truly have been so afraid of this boy that she'd had nightmares and had to be sedated? It seemed silly now, watching him eat his ice cream.

Not sure what else to say, she managed, "So what is Rocky Road, exactly?" She took a lick of her own ice cream, noticing it was starting to melt a little.

"It's like chocolate with–" He stopped. "Wait, you've never had Rocky Road?"

She shook her head. "No, I don't think so."

"And I thought I had a lousy childhood." Malcolm held out his cone in her direction. "You want a lick?"

Could this be some sort of trick? It seemed innocent enough. She leaned forward and licked the side. "It's good."

"You like it?"

"Uh-huh." Wendy was actually beginning to wish she'd ordered it herself.

"Then let's trade." He took her cone, ignoring the line of sticky white cream running down one side, and handed her his.

"Why are you being so nice?" she blurted. The last time he'd been this pleasant with her was her first time in Neverland – right before he told her he didn't want her and that he was going to have his shadow kidnap one of her brothers instead.

He made a faux-wounded expression, putting his free hand to his heart. "Don't sound so surprised!"

"I'm sorry." She blushed in spite of herself.

They stopped at a bench. Malcolm gestured at it with his chin. "Let's sit for a minute, I want to show you something."

Easing down beside him, Wendy watched warily as he drew something out of his back pocket that she initially mistook for a pack of cigarettes before realizing it was a deck of cards.

"Ever play Find The Queen?" he asked her.

"How do you play?"

He took out three cards, examined them, then laid them flat on the bench next to her. "Pick one. If it's the queen, you win."

Taking another lick of Rocky Road, she pointed to the middle card. "That one."

"You're sure?"

She nodded.

He lifted it, revealing the queen of hearts. "You win." Usually he would have hidden this card up his sleeve right from the start, but he knew what he was doing. "Play again?"

"All right."

Shuffling the cards, Malcolm suggested they make it interesting. That if she lost this time, she had to keep the locket he'd given her.

"But if I win again, you have to take it back to Mr. Gold."

He smirked slowly. "Deal."

"That one." She pointed to the card on the left side.

This time, of course, the heart-surrounded lady was safely up his sleeve, where it belonged and felt right. "Eight of clubs. Oh, sorry. Better luck next time."

The Rocky Road nearly finished, Wendy began to get up. "I should go."

"Why don't you keep playing with me until you win?" Malcolm said, a little too quickly. "You're bound to sooner or later. Look how fast you won the first time!"

Not quite sure what was coming over her, Wendy agreed.

Malcolm shuffled and turned his face away for a moment, hiding his delight. He knew how shy he could make the queen. This could go on for hours.

It was twilight and the crickets and fireflies were already out by the time Malcolm finally let her win again and left her alone.

Feeling dazed, Wendy walked along the docks. Her thoughts swirled in a confusing blur, droned out by the sound of a bell ringing on a far-out buoy.

Somebody whistled. "Oy!"

Blinking, she turned, searching for the source.

"Aye, lass, over here." It was Killian Jones, stepping off the Jolly Roger. The flat of his hook rested heavily on her left shoulder. "Are you all right?"

She swallowed nervously. Had he seen her playing Find The Queen with Peter Pan? How could she possibly explain that? Guilt pricked at her, reminding her that it was, after all, Hook's ship that enabled her to escape from that monster in the first place. Only, it was hard to keep on thinking of him as a monster when he'd been so...different...today.

A really good different...

"Yes, I'm fine," she said softly.

"Then I think you should be on your way home now." He lowered his brow pointedly. "The docks are no place for a young lady after dark."

She exhaled, relieved. Maybe he hadn't seen.

His hook slid down her arm, catching the bottom of her sweater sleeve and pulling her back for a moment. Leaning down close to her ear, he whispered. "Be careful. He may look like a boy, but he's a bloody demon."

Malcolm had barely taken two full steps into the house before a cane was pushed into his chest, pinning him back against the door frame.

Mr. Gold did not look happy. "And where the hell have you been?"

"Out."

"Out, where?" he hissed.

"Just out."

"You think I don't know you stole from me?"

Malcolm rolled his eyes, biting back a grin.

"Oh, so now you think it's funny." Mr. Gold's eyes flashed angrily as he pushed harder on the cane. "You are going to return my property and go straight up to your room."

"Can't." He shrugged callously under the cane's weight. "I don't have it."

"What did you do with it?"

"Gave it to my girlfriend."

"Unbelievable." He lowered the cane, pointing at him furiously with his other hand. "You're nothing but a thief and a liar, you know that? I've been a fool, hoping you'd change."

"I may be a thief, and I may have told a few white lies," simpered Malcolm, rubbing the sore place the cane's indent had left on his chest, "but at least I don't lock children in their rooms or force them to work like slaves!" He stomped to the staircase, ignoring Belle, who was watching their exchange from the upstairs landing. "You're the worst father ever!"

"It takes one to know one!" Mr. Gold shouted at his retreating back.

Leaning over the railing, Malcolm snarled, "What the hell does that even mean? You people are such freaks!"

That night, Wendy didn't have her usual nightmares. Instead, she dreamed she was back in her nursery in London. The window opened of its own accord, and for a split second she was sure it was the shadow, only it turned out to be Peter himself. Nana barked protectively, but he put his hand on her big, shaggy head, and she fell asleep, allowing him to continue advancing towards Wendy.

She drew in a sharp breath. He slipped an arm around her waist, his hand resting on the small of her back. Then, without the slightest warning or indication that he meant to do so, he leaned forward and kissed her on the mouth.

Rather than push him away, she kissed him back. This went on for while longer, until Peter suddenly lifted her off the floor and flew her to the bed, placing her down on it. Then he began easing himself down on top of her, resuming kissing.

Wendy woke in her bedroom in Storybrooke, panting heavily. For a confused minute she stared breathlessly at the ceiling, her chest heaving almost violently.

Reason returned and she leaped out of bed and made a run for the bathroom, her stomach twisting and churning.

She vomited three times in quick succession into the toilet.

This reaction, though, had less to do with true disgust over the contents of her dream than the fact that one hundred years of eating only the rich, fruity kinds of food Peter magicked into existence in Neverland had weakened her stomach. It had gotten to the point where almost any intense emotion could make her throw up. The day John had had to collect her from school because Peter frightened her at lunch, she'd puked all over the back of his convertible.

"Wendy?" A light flicked on behind her. "You all right? Do you need the tranquilizers again?"

She shook her head and leaned her right temple against the porcelain bowl. "No, Michael, not tonight. I'm all right."

Playing Twister for Gym class was probably a result of Storybrooke High budget cuts, but the kids seemed to be enjoying themselves regardless.

Wendy was doing pretty well, apart from having her backside up in the air and stepping over two other girls to reach the required colored circles, right up until somebody called out "Orange circle!" and a familiar voice crooned, "Hi, Wendy," not even an inch away from her right ear.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered breathlessly. "You're not even in this class."

"Never stopped me before. I love games." He rested his chin on her arm. "I've always thought Twister was exciting. Don't you think it's fun, Wendy?"

"Sure." She willed herself not to giggle, even though someone had just accidentally dragged their scarf against her ankle, tickling her.

"Red Circle!"

He lined his lips with her ear again. "Wouldn't it be even more fun if we were naked?"

Still every bit the well-bred Edwardian girl despite her forced adjustments to modern life, she let out a yelp of horror, lost her balance, and would have fallen flat on her face if Malcolm hadn't caught her by the waist.

Her face was beet red, eyes wide with mortification.

"I'm just messing with you, Wendy," he laughed. "Lighten up."

That was when he noticed something shiny sliding out from under her blouse. The acorn locket pendant. She was wearing it.

"I knew you liked me," he chuckled smugly, arching a brow.

Wendy couldn't tell her brothers about what happened over the next few weeks. Part of her was ashamed, knowing it wasn't right. Another part of her simply didn't know how to tell them. How could they possibly understand what she was feeling? They'd think she'd completely gone round the bend.

She almost told Archie during one of their sessions but couldn't quite bring herself to tell him the boy's name. Surely, by now, he knew exactly who Malcolm Gold was – just like everyone else in town did – and would be repulsed if she described the way her heart beat faster every time she saw him. Or the way she'd felt herself practically glowing when he sat next to her in class or at lunch...

She tried, also, to keep Killian's warning close to her heart – he was a demon, a monster, a cold-hearted being – but there was no room for it, not with Malcolm taking up more and more space within its confines. It was quickly getting to the point where she couldn't even see the demon anymore, only the boy. He was only a monster in her nightmares now. In her waking hours, he was wonderful.

They didn't get to spend much time together, Mr. Gold never rarely ever giving Malcolm a minute off from working at the pawnshop, so – perhaps unwisely – they'd formed a plan.

At night, before she went to bed, Wendy left her window unlatched for him. And Malcolm would shimmy up, silent as a shadow, and visit with her.

He'd discovered something – something he hadn't told anyone about, afraid they'd think he was even crazier than they were – recently. Struggling against the magically sealed window in his own bedroom at Mr. Gold's house, he'd felt a kind of...power...shooting out from his fingertips and it had opened. That was how he was able to escape and visit Wendy. He hoped, one day, when she was more stable, and less jumpy at his every oddity, he just might be able to tell her he thought he might have some kind of...magic...

For many visits they never kissed. Indeed, they hadn't even touched much apart from an occasional hand squeeze or the odd hug. Then, one night, after a flash rainstorm, when Wendy had just woken trembling from bad dreams and Malcolm entered soaking wet, this changed.

Smiling at her as she took his hand to help him over the ledge, he stroked the side of her face, tucking a piece of her sweat-matted hair behind an ear. "I love you, Wendy." It was the truth, for once, and not a game. She was the only part of his life in this stupid town he cared about, the only person he didn't long to make as miserable as Mr. Gold made him on a daily basis.

It was impossible, her mind kept telling her, but – looking at him, seeing him like this – she couldn't deny she felt the same. "I love you, too," she said, and kissed him.

He felt it again – that power – but it wasn't just in his fingertips now; it was his entire body and soul, and with it his memories.

His real memories.

True love's kiss had broken the curse, restoring them.

Wendy felt it, too, and a cold horror – one she didn't want to accept – swept over her as she pulled away.

Sure enough, the expression on his face was no longer sweet. It was dark with satisfaction.

Malcolm Gold was gone; Peter Pan was back.

Hook had been right. She could see the demon now.

His lips curling up into a nasty smirk, he leaned close to her ear. "Thank you, Wendy."

A/N: Review if so inclined.