( 004. ) Blame It on the Night

While staying with the Charmings, Peter has nightmares; and Snow shows she cares.

It was bad enough that it had taken him nearly three weeks to get used to living at Gold's pawn shop instead of his Neverland campground; but now Belle and her irritating fiancé had to go and dump him here, at the Charmings' residence, because apparently, renovations had to be done at the pawn shop and it would be easier if there were the least amount of people possible living there while the changes were made.

Which was why Peter was now here, standing in the Charmings' living room, while David assured Gold that nothing would go wrong, with Belle chatting away with Snow White in the kitchen area. Frowning, Peter looked over the apartment and already decided he loathed the place, with its cozy decorations and comfy furniture. He'd hated the pawn shop attic too, until he'd gotten the place feeling a bit more like home – home, which was and always would be Neverland. But then, of course, as soon as he was comfortable he was thrown to these overly-optimistic royal pests until Gold finished fixing up his shop.

"He shouldn't cause you any trouble," Belle told Snow quietly as she cast a glance in Peter's direction. The boy just stood there, scowling at everything, and she pursed her lips into a tight frown. "He might be annoying and ill-tempered, but he won't do you any harm. Ever since Rumple took all his magic away, he hasn't tried anything, and he isn't as dangerous as I know you must still think…"

"Belle." Snow sent her friend a warm smile, placing a hand on her arm. "Don't worry. David and I can deal with one teenager for a week or so." Her smile turned gentle. "I know you wouldn't have let Peter into your home if you weren't positive it was safe; besides, I've been watching him around town. He's got a short temper, and he can be a real grouch… but he isn't dangerous. David agrees, and I believe the others in town will begin to see that too."

"Well, I don't want you to underestimate him either," Belle said as Gold walked over, cane clicking against the tile floor as he joined the women. "We should be heading back to the shop now," he said, casting a look over his shoulder to Pan before turning back to Snow. "If he does anything…"

"You will be the first I'll call," Snow assured him, gesturing him and Belle towards the door. "Go. You'll be late to set everything up at the shop. Everything's covered here."

Gold still didn't look convinced as he stepped out the door; just before walking off, he gave one last look at David, and the prince nodded in return. Ah, so they had a plan in case things went south, had they? Well, that was unnecessary; Snow was confident that the week would flow smoothly, and once she'd locked the apartment door, she and her husband turned to find Peter still standing in the same position he'd been in since he'd first arrived: standing awkwardly between the sofa and the coffee table, clutching a backpack in one hand while the other fiddled with the hem of his old green and brown vest, which he wore over a black t-shirt.

"You can put your bag under that table there," Snow offered, smiling as she moved towards the kitchen. "I'm afraid we don't have a spare room at the moment, but the couch is really comfortable. Do you want something to drink? Juice or water?"

"No, no drinks." Peter let his bag fall to the ground and then kicked it under the coffee table before crossing his arms and clearing his throat. "Um, no thank you." He said the last two words as if they were foreign, and he remained staring at the ground the whole time.

David moved over to be near his wife, never taking his eyes off Peter though he seemed much more at ease around his presence than most of the people in town. "We thought about going to Granny's for dinner tonight," he said. "That way you can hang with Felix for a while."

Huh. "Most think that putting Felix and I together is a bad idea," he stated, watching them warily, wondering what the catch was.

Snow's cheerful demeanor didn't waver. "Well, I don't see any shame in letting you talk to your friends, do you, David?"

"No. None at all. Unless, you don't want to eat there, Peter?"

They were giving him a choice, and doing it with small smiles and no suspicion. Peter quirked a brow in their direction, waiting for a follow-up statement with rules and threats; but when none came, he just nodded once. "The diner is fine."

"Great! Let me get my purse." Snow bustled past the teen cheerfully, and pat him arm as she passed. Peter watched her, bewildered, as she happily beckoned him and David to follow her out the door.

He followed quietly, not believing that this merry, un-threatening woman could be genuine. She'd turn on him eventually, start treating him as a beast rather than a person soon enough. Snow would, and so would Charming and Belle and Rumpelstiltskin. They would show their true feelings soon enough.

They always did.

She'd always loved the night, with its peacefulness and moonlight and silence. That was why, when David was already snoring on the other side of the bed, Snow would just lie there looking out the window, gazing at the stars, enjoying the era of pleasant stillness that was so rare during the day.

It was because it was so quiet that she heard the mumbling from downstairs so easily, barely audible, but she heard it all the same. She had the senses of a hunter, after all, so as soon as she heard it, she noiselessly slid out of bed and tiptoed down the short wooden staircase leading to the first floor of the small apartment.

When the harshly whispered words reached her ears again, she hurried over to the sofa and immediately placed a tender hand on Peter's shoulder, gripping tighter when the nightmare-plagued boy struggled to cringe away from her touch. "Shhh…" It didn't matter what the others thought of Pan; her mothering instincts were taking over now, hungry for an outlet since Emma was grown. This boy before her seemed to be just fine as her center of maternal attention as he moaned again and flipped over to get away from her hands.

"Peter, wake up," she whispered quietly, knowing that David could sleep through a hurricane but not wanting to risk it. "Peter. Peter, wake up. It's only me, Snow."

He didn't seem to hear her, but she could tell he was waking up. He hissed through clenched teeth as he rolled over again, roughly, nearly sending her falling backwards as he unconsciously tried shoving her away with his nails and tense hands.

"Peter, stop, it's me, Snow. Peter…" She grasped his wrists to keep him from struggling, and oh, that was a bad idea.

Suddenly unable to defend himself with his arms, Peter's eyes snapped open, emerald orbs flickering and snapping as the boy shoved himself off the couch in a lunge, sending Snow sprawling onto the ground with the immortal teen hover above her… a dagger in his grasp. She recognized it as his knife from Neverland – how had he managed to get that back from Gold? Didn't really matter now, she told herself harshly. She pressed her back closer to the floor, prepared herself for the stab. He'd tricked them all, hadn't he?

No. No, she knew that wasn't true; that theory was backed up when Peter didn't stab her, but only sat next to her, dagger clutched in his hand but not raised, eyes wild but not with malice. Or insanity. Or sadistic starvation. They looked almost afraid, and once again, Snow's instincts took over her wariness as she pushed herself into a sitting position. "Peter?"

Peter didn't look at her; instead, he leaned back against the couch and seemed to try and catch his breath, forehead glistening with a thin sheet of sweat as he let the dagger fall to the ground. He refused to meet her eyes, so Snow took to watching him without speaking, looking at how the panic fell from his eyes, how he kept his head bowed, how his t-shirt neckline had dipped quite a bit in the struggle and now revealed his sharp collarbone and… and a scar that ran from the bottom corner of his neck down below his neck. It was white with red around the edges, looking old but not old enough for it to fade into a thin line. It was ragged too, and she stared at it along while before Peter caught her gaze and scowled. He shrugged so that his shirt fell back into its normal position, and then went back to glowering at her. "What do you want?"

She knew the malice was forced, so she didn't take it to heart. Instead, she got up and sat on the couch, fixing her hair and just sitting there quietly until Peter slowly slid up until he was sitting next to her, right on the edge of the cushion, as if he were expecting to have to run at any moment. She wanted to ask him about the scar, to see if it had been from a fight, from an accident, from someone wishing the boy harm… but she didn't. She knew how to reign her curiosity in, and she did that just now, and asked a question about the current events. "You were having a nightmare," she said just in case Pan was experiencing any lingering confusion. "Do you remember what it was about?"

Of course he remembered. He always remembered, because it was almost always the same thing. Sneering, mocking adult faces looking down at him, spitting on him, kicking him around like he was a ball or a wounded dog. Neverland, with its shimmering skies that suddenly turned black, transforming from a paradise to a prison. Blood, and fear, and darkness, and a cold stone that replaced his soul soon enough. Yes, he remembered. It's hard to forget such a past anyway. He was rooted to Neverland, as his nightmares always reminded him. Even physically leaving the island couldn't get it out of his head. He belonged there, willingly or not, and that's what haunted him most.

But he couldn't say any of that, not to this royal princess with her charming husband and cheerful smiles. So he just shook his head, choosing not to say anything at all.

Snow could tell a liar when she saw one, but she didn't comment on it. Instead, she nodded in understanding, and gave a tiny smile. "You know what the best part about this town is?

"It's a do-over. A place to start over, new identity, new life, new everything. It's a second chance, for everyone." She acted as if she were just trying to get him to like this place, but he could see the way the message was directed at him. It made him annoyed, and aggravated… and… something else that he didn't want to acknowledge. He shrugged one shoulder in reply, and leaned back into the pillow that he'd been given, and tried to figure out why this woman was still pulling the caring act; an act so much more convincing in maternal affection than his own mother had been, really.

Peter sat there so long thinking that eventually, his head leaned against the armrest of the couch, while Snow got up and sat in the nearby kitchen island, a low little light on while she flipped through a magazine. Watching him. Not with suspicion, but with something. Peter didn't know what it was. It was foreign, but not a threat.

He fell asleep again with Snow watching, and maybe, later on, he would force himself to accept the fact that he had appreciated the gesture.