Okay, this chapter is kind of set between the episodes "The Lady of the Lake" and "The Crocodile." My fic only follows the basic outline of the show, so don't expect the exact occurrences of the show's episodes with slight alterations of the script to accommodate the addition of Baelfire. There will be a lot of changes. That's why this is an AU. Also, on flashbacks: they're going to be out of order, like how it is in the show. First chapter we saw Bae's escape from Neverland, now we see something that happened early in his time there. Also, I decided I didn't like the look/feel of italics for flashbacks. So from now on, you're going to have to use context clues to figure it out, if I don't tell you beforehand. Don't worry, it should be fairly obvious.

Syed: Thanks for another great review! However, I'm afraid there's been a miscommunication. Baelfire is not Henry's father. Neal never existed. In my fic, Baelfire is Henry's best friend/honorary older brother, but he isn't blood related. Sorry for the confusion! But don't worry, I already have a plan to get Tamara into town. The idea about Regina summoning Blue as a kid is interesting. I'll take it under consideration and see if I can work it into the story. Thanks for all the great ideas!

Huge thank you to everyone that followed, and favorited. Thanks to syed, ArdeaSpark, and Catspook for reviewing. You all fuel my writing! Also, I'm so sorry this is so late! I slammed face first into writer's block during just one scene and it took me forever to get past it! Combine that with the fact that this is one of my longest chapters yet, and it became a really slow update. Sorry everyone!

Of Broken Families and Shattered Souls

Chapter Six: In Which Henry Is Disappointed By The Lack Of Knowledge Of Both Code Words and Dinosaurs

'Put him with the others' was apparently cruel-hulking-boy for: 'shove him into the clearing where everyone else is gathered around a massive fire hazard.'

Baelfire only stumbled slightly when he was roughly pushed out of the tree line, but the other boys still laughed. He shot them defiant glares to hide his fear. He remembered the many searches they conducted of the Jolly Roger while he was still with the Pirate. They had never stopped pursuing him, and now that they had him he wasn't sure what would happen. He did have a vast imagination to provide him with gruesome possibilities, however. Living with his Papa had given him ample examples.

Stop. Don't think about that. Don't think about Papa, who chose some godforsaken dagger over his own son. Don't think about Hook, who spewed his father's exact same lies about changing and family before selling Bae to some nameless demon just to secure his own damned future. Don't think about the jagged feeling of betrayal sitting in his gut, like broken glass throbbing with every beat of his shattered heart. And especially don't think about the Darlings who wanted and loved him, who he would likely never see again. Just don't think.

Baelfire glanced around the clearing to distract him from his thoughts. There were boys milling about the area, maybe between fifteen and twenty of them: the Lost Boys. Many of them were glancing at him, eyes filling with trepidation before glancing away again. Several of them were tending to the massive fire in the center. Frankly, Baelfire thought the bonfire would only end up causing a forest fire, which was a terrible idea seeing as they were in the center of a heavily wooded jungle. Perhaps it was just him with these worries. Suddenly the fire flared, causing several of the boys to leap back, barely avoiding severe burns, and others to laugh excitedly.

"Welcome Baelfire," the voice caused Bae's head to snap to the right. There was a large boulder situated at the edge of the clearing. On top of the rock stood an all-too-familiar boy, staring at him with a smug look glued to his face.

Baelfire's heart beat harder against his chest as he took in the magician, but that was the only sign of his increasing fear. "Piper," he greeted lowly.

The smug look only increased. "I see you remember me."

It was hard to forget someone like the Pied Piper. If the his father's fear of the boy hadn't been enough to engrave the memory into Bae's mind, his pipe certainly was. For days after the event it had been a struggle to do anything but lay in bed, feeling empty without the thrilling call of the pan pipe. "You made an impression."

"I always try to. Only here, I don't go by the Pied Piper. Here, I'm Pan. Peter Pan."

"What do you want, Pan?" Baelfire bluntly asked. He was sick of mind games and lies and magic. For once, he just wanted a straight answer.

Pan smirked as he spread his arms wide. "Why, to welcome you to my Lost Boys, of course."

The Lost Boys. Wendy had painted them just as their names implied: lost. The crew of the Jolly Roger had described them differently, however. Most of the them they simply referred to them as "His murderous little syncopaths." The problem was, Baelfire wasn't sure which rendering was the correct one.

"I don't recall ever agreeing to join them."

Pan's damnable smirk was worrying Bae. It looked like his father's, and whenever his father had worn that grin it usually meant someone had just been killed. "Oh, but you did," he simpered. "The moment you took my shadow's hand you became a Lost Boy. In fact," he said as he turned to address the group. "I'd like to dedicate a song to our newest Lost Boy, Baelfire." With a sly grin the magic user lifted his pipes to his lips.

Baelfire opened his mouth, perhaps to ask him what on earth was going on, perhaps to inform him that there wasn't a chance in hell he'd become a Lost Boy, perhaps just to yell. Nobody would ever know, because the almost sickeningly-sweet tune pouring out from the pipes stopped him dead in his tracks. It was whispering to him again, just as it had an eternity ago in the Enchanted Forest. It hummed in his bones, calling, telling him to join the dance be one of us forget all your woes.

And the Piper played.

Baelfire barely registered the other boys as they began to spin and twist and tumble around the flames. All he could think about was the song. It flooded his senses and invaded his mind and became part of him. He found himself swaying to the tune, without knowing when he had started or how to stop.

And the Piper played.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice was whispering that this was magic, the same thing that had destroyed his family and could very well destroy him. It screamed that the Piper couldn't be trusted, that he should flee into the forest as fast as his legs could take him.

And the Piper played.

But then that worry was swept away with all the others, the roaring stream the song had become clearing away all the thoughts in his mind.

And the Piper played.

In a strange, elated daze Baelfire began to move. He joined the spinning and twisting and tumbling. He began to dance.

And the Piper played.

"Take it easy kid! You don't need to become a master in one night!"

"No," Henry panted. "I'm fine. We can keep going."

Baelfire was starting to get worried about Henry. The boy had woken up early and promptly asked Bae if they could continue the fighting lessons. Baelfire hadn't been bothered by the request. He himself had been up for hours. While he had, in fact, slept (for the first time since he had escaped, actually), it wasn't for very long. Nightmares had quickly woken him up, as they had practically every night for many, many years. Baelfire was an expert at dodging sleep, but this had the unfortunate consequence of him being unaware of an average person's sleep schedule. Therefore he was unable to determine if it was a socially acceptable time for Henry to be awake.

The request in itself wasn't all that strange. Many young boys were excited at the concept of learning to fight (the Lost Boys certainly had been), and it would have been good for Henry to learn how to protect himself considering the town's many problems. He had agreed immediately.

But now, Bae was starting to see cracks appearing in Henry's facade of nonchalance. He was practicing each move rather desperately, as if it was incredibly important he learnt it all right then. He refused to take breaks, insisting he was fine when Baelfire could quite clearly see that he was not.

"Well, can I please stop for a breather? I'm not as young as I used to be," Baelfire said.

Henry wasn't biting. He frowned. "Don't lie. You're not even sweating or breathing heavily. You're not tired."

Baelfire was well aware of these facts. While Henry did show a lot of potential, he had almost no experience. Sparring him wasn't exactly a challenge. "Fine, I am as young as I used to be. Having your aging process hindered does that. That doesn't mean we shouldn't stop though."

Henry groaned and flopped down at the table dramatically. His head smacked against the countertop. He groaned again.

"Something you want to talk about, Henry?"

"No," came the muffled reply.

"Are you sure? Because it looks like something's wrong."

Henry gave in much sooner than Baelfire thought he would have. He must have really wanted to talk about it. "It's just… I can't do anything! Ruby's coordinating the relief efforts and the Dwarves are mining for fairy dust and you're Sheriff, but I'm stuck in school doing nothing! I can't help anyone and I hate it!"

"And you think learning to fight will help you help people," Baelfire restated.

"At least it's something! I can protect people of I know how to fight!"

"Well, did you ever think that there's more than one way to help? Ruby's coordinating efforts because she's good at it. The Dwarves are mining because, well, they're dwarves. They were literally born to mine. And I'm mainly Sheriff because the town blackmailed me into it, but that's beside the point. They chose me because my magic allows me to handle things others can't. We all help, but in ways we're good at."

Henry looked at him skeptically. "So you're saying I should stick to my strengths?"

Bae shrugged. "Just a suggestion. But I know that running yourself into the ground to learn hand-to-hand combat is not the answer."

Henry nodded slowly, but still didn't look convinced.

Emma's phone rang. Ruby had let Bae keep it, seeing as Emma had already routed all the Sheriff calls to go to her cell. It had been going off ever since he got the job. Last night it had been blessedly silent though. Until now. Bae looked at Henry, an unspoken apology in his eyes.

"Duty calls."

Henry tapped his fingers against the tabletop. Keeping to his strengths….

What were his strengths, exactly?

He had been good at breaking the curse. While it had been Emma that actually did it, he had helped. He had been good at getting Emma to do what was necessary. Maybe he was a good coordinator? Maybe he could do the background work required to get people to solve problems…

"Hi Henry," came the glum voice above him.

Henry glanced up. Paige was there, as sad look on her face. He was surprised. Why was she here so soon? The bus didn't come for at least another half hour.

Henry was waiting in Granny's. He was old enough to be left home alone while Bae worked, but he hadn't wanted to stay in the apartment. It only reminded him of his missing family. So he had asked Bae to poof him over to Granny's to wait for the bus. It was a lot more lively there, and he liked to watch them prepare the restaurant for the coming day.

"Hey Paige," he responded. "What are you doing here so early?"

Her already stormy expression darkened further. "I came to see if there was any news on my Papa, but there hasn't been. I don't know where else to look!"

"I'm sure that you'll find him. I mean, Storybrooke's a small town. Someone's sure to see him."

Paige looked like she was about to cry. "I don't even know if he's in Storybrooke. Papa's been missing since before the curse."

"Have you put up a sign?"

"Yeah, but no one's answered it," she glumly replied. "Maybe it's not drawn well enough for anyone to recognize him."

"There's got to be a way to find out if he's in town," Henry said. Then, he got an idea.

Well, Bailey had told him to play to his strengths.

The job had been easy. Some guy had moved out to the edges of Storybrooke to start a pumpkin farm, and his neighbors were calling in a noise complaint. All Baelfire had to do was go over to tell him to quiet down.

When he got back, all he had expected was to have to write a detailed report to go over with Hopper. Instead, he was confronted by Henry and a girl he didn't recognize.

"Hey Henry," he greeted. "Aren't you supposed to be in school?"

"School hasn't started yet," he responded. "Bae, this is Paige. Paige, this is Bailey. He's the Sheriff."

Bae nodded a hello, then shot a questioning look at Henry.

"Paige's dad has been missing since before the curse," he clarified. "I thought we could help her find him."

"Has she tried Granny's? That's where they're organizing the townspeople."

"Nobody's answered her flyer. Can you find out if he's in town?"

"I can try. Paige, do you have anything that belonged to him?"

She shook her head miserably.

"Okay then, we'll just have to do this the old fashioned way."

"What's the old fashioned way?" she asked.

Bae cracked a small smile. "Looking really, really hard for him. Do you have a picture of him?"

She gave a small nod and reached into her bag. "I drew it myself," she explained as she handed it over. "It's not very good though; I don't think you'd be able to recognize him with that."

Unfortunately, the girl was right. It was crudely drawn with crayons and didn't depict any distinctive features. It only told him the man had dark hair and light eyes. Half the men in town fit that description. He turned and walked towards his bag. "Alright Paige, I'm going to need your help for this. I need you to focus on the last time you saw your father."

Baelfire had found what he was looking for in the bag. A dreamcatcher. The first and only dreamcatcher he ever made for the purpose of capturing memories, in fact.

"Why?" she questioned with a watery glance towards him. "What is that?" the girl asked before he could answer her first question.

"This," he said, "is a dreamcatcher. And it's very old, like me, so let's be careful with it. This is going to show us any memory you focus on. And if you focus on the last time you saw your father, then we'll have his most recent description."

He held it up to the girl's forehead and watched the scene play out. By the end of it, he was frowning. "He left?" Bae questioned before he could stop himself. "He didn't just disappear?"

"Well, yeah," Paige replied. "But he was going to come back," she reassured. Bae wondered who she was reassuring, him or herself. "Something stopped him."

Baelfire nodded and spun back towards his (Emma's) desk before he could say anything else. He grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil and began to sketch out a rough depiction of the man's face. "Here," he told Paige. "This should help people recognize him if I can't find him."

"I didn't know you could draw, Bae," Henry said, glancing at the picture. "That's really good."

Baelfire shrugged. "It's just a sketch."

The school bus rolled past the window, leaving exhaust fumes in its wake. The three of them followed its path with their eyes. "We missed the bus," Henry unnecessarily declared.

"I can see that," Bae replied. "Alright, grab your stuff and get in the police cruiser." He snatched the car keys up from the desk and moved towards the door. The two kids didn't move with him. "Problem?"

"You can drive?" Henry asked. "Like, legally? And without crashing?"

The wizard rolled his eyes. "Yes, the curse gave me my license. Let's go before you're late."

"The curse gave you your license?" Paige chimed in. "Have ever actually, you know, driven a car? In real life?"

"Yes, Ruby tested me before giving me the keys. Let's go, or we'll both be late."

Hesitantly, the two kids followed him. They all rounded the corner and entered the cruiser. Bae glanced back at his passengers. They were currently wearing two seat belts a piece (and considering the amount of twisting they had to do to get the seat belts to do that, it was an impressive feat) and had braced themselves against the side of the car. Henry shot him a small thumbs up before returning his hand to its previous position. "We believe in you, Bae."

"Your confidence is staggering," he dryly replied as he shifted the car into gear. "You both do realize that everyone in Storybrooke got their license from the curse, right?"

"Yeah, but they got in at least some practice during the curse. Maybe we shouldn't talk, it could be distracting."

Baelfire rolled his eyes but complied. After a short, safe, and crash-free drive they arrived at the school. "See? Nobody died in a horrific ball of flames! Have a good day at school," he called after Paige as she called a thanks and fled from the vehicle (Bae had no idea why, the drive had been completely safe).

"So, can you really find her dad?" Henry asked as he tried to untangle himself from the (totally unnecessary) extra belts.

"I can try to find her dad. I can't make any promises. Especially if he doesn't want to be found," he added to himself. Henry wasn't meant to hear that last part, but he still did.

"What do you mean?" Henry asked.

"He left. He didn't come back. Sometimes, we think a person wouldn't leave us for anything, but we're wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong. I have to consider the possibility that he hasn't been found because he doesn't want to be found."

Henry shook his head stubbornly. "There are a million other reasons why he never came back. We don't have to assume that it's because he wanted to leave her."

Baelfire bit his tongue to keep himself from telling Henry that yes, they did, because not all families motto was "I will always find you." Sometimes people left, and it hurt a hell of a lot less if you weren't completely blindsided by it when it came. He couldn't tell Henry that. Not when the boy was so painfully optimistic about everything, just like…

No, Bae, he thought. Don't. Don't go there.

He refocused on the problem at hand. He had to at least try to find this girl's father. He had promised Henry, and honestly speaking, he would still do it even if he hadn't promised. Paige's situation was a bit too similar to many of the Lost Boys' for his taste. He had half a plan, one that had been brewing in his mind since Bae had learnt her father had left. He looked at Henry.

"What time is your recess?"

While he had lived on the streets, Baelfire had known an opium dealer.

It wasn't a friendship kind of thing. It wasn't even an acquaintance kind of thing. It was more like a Bae-had-seen-what-his-merchandise-had-done-to-other-people-so-he-avoided-him-as-much-as-possible kind of thing. However, he had been the main dealer for people living on the streets; it was impossible to avoid him. Baelfire would turn the corner, and there he would be, providing another desperate soul with a fix.

Bae hadn't known much about him. He hadn't even known his name. But what he did know about the Dealer (what everyone knew) was that he didn't always take his payments in cash.

Sometimes, he would ask for favors instead.

(Once, he had offered Baelfire a taste in exchange for a favor. Bae had fled before he ever discovered what the favor had been.)

Baelfire had hated that word. Favors. It had implied that it was free, as long as they did just one simple thing in return; not even a payment at all, just a trade amongst friends. Nothing in that or any realm had been free. To claim so had been a lie.

The Dealer would lie often, Baelfire noticed.

(All your troubles will float away, it doesn't cost much, nothing could ever go wrongwrongwrong)

His favors had never been as simple as they first appeared. Bae had seen men hang because of the favors, all for the sake of just one more, please just one more fix. He had seen even more tearstained women (not women, girls really, some only a little older than Morraine) with small, starving babies that had the same pale eyes and crooked nose as the person who had promised them it's just one small favor, really.

But they kept coming back to the Dealer.

(just one more, pleasepleaseplease just one more fix)

That was the part Baelfire had never understood. Why had they kept coming back? What made them keep returning, pale and shaking hands grasping for just one more when they had seen what came of his favors?

And now, all these months later, he finally understood.

Everything had been empty before the fix. Then, it momentarily filled you up, making everything seem not as bad as it was before. Your problems floated away, and for just one small moment, it truly did seem like nothing could go wrong.

Then, that moment ended, and everything was worse than it had been before the fix.

You were even emptier. Your problems were heavier than they were before. And suddenly, everything could go wrong.

And you would do anything to get back that momentary lightness, no matter the favor.

Baelfire understood this with absolute certainty the morning after the pipe had ended its song.

He had woken up on the ground, along with the Lost Boys, and the first thing he noticed was that everything hurt. It wasn'ta physical ache. No, it was so much worse. It was the deep seated, burn in your bones and scream in your mind ache that came from being abandoned, twisted and amplified until all you could hear was they didn't want you you weren't good enough you will never be good enough.

Baelfire jerked to his feet and staggered out of the camp. He knew he couldn't get away, not yet at least. He just needed to be somewhere else while he collected himself. He stumbled to a stop against a tree about a hundred feet away from the camp. He rested his head against the trunk and squeezed his eyes shut in hope the pain would stop.

Instead, the whispers started.

Bae's eyes shot open as he tried to locate the source of the noise. It seemed to be coming from all around him, from the trees and the ground and the sky. It was a meaningless jumble of sound, an ancient language that seemed foreign and familiar all at once. And the whispers seemed to stir… something inside of him.

He had felt it before. When he was younger, sometimes he would feel it. A strange, white hot flame flickering inside of him, terrifying and thrilling all at once. Years ago, he had managed to convince himself that it was all in his head. Now, he wasn't so sure. Hesitantly, he leaned towards the tree in an attempt to better hear the voices.

"Problem, Bael—"

Pan caught the stick Baelfire swung at him with a practiced ease. "Nice reflexes," he smirked.

Bae stepped backwards, his cheeks burning. He was on edge; unknown environments always put him on a hairpin trigger. When he first arrived in London he had jumped at everything, and fled from anything resembling a confrontation. "What do you want, Pan?"

"Just coming to check on you. You seemed ill when you left the camp," the Piper simpered.

Bae bit his tongue. He was tempted to tell the mage exactly where he could shove his concern, or to question whose fault his current state was. However, he still had the manners his Papa had ingrained in him, no matter how undeserving Pan was of polite conversation. So instead he hissed out, "I'm fine." Before the magician could respond, he spun on his heel as walked away, trying to ignore the smirking boy and the whispers and the burn burn burn of the flame.

"You shouldn't fight it, you know," Pan called after him.

Baelfire stopped dead in his tracks. "Fight what?" he called back as he turned. Could he know about the… whatever it was? How could he, though? Baelfire himself didn't know what to call the ball on energy that sat in the pit of his stomach, only stirring occasionally.

"The song," Pan replied, seemingly unaware or uncaring of Bae's internal plight. "Did you not notice that you were the only one negatively affected by it? It will only hurt you if you fight it."

"What does your song do?" Baelfire probed.

"Surely you've noticed," he evaded. The problem was, he was right. Bae had noticed.

"It makes you forget," he muttered. "It makes you forget all your pain, everything that made you lost in the first place."

Pan shot him a smug look, and Baelfire got the feeling that he had just lost a game he hadn't known he was playing. "Precisely. And therein lies your problem, Bae. You fight the song, fight to remember, and it only hurts you in the end. But it doesn't have to be that way," he reassured, stepping forward. "It will stop hurting for you, just like it did for all the others. All you have to do is let go."

It was tempting, so tempting, to do as he said. To let go off all the pain, heartache, and betrayal. To forget.

But he couldn't.

"No," he replied, shaking his head. "No. I don't want to forget. The memories aren't all bad. Besides, I don't need to be like all the others; I already have a family."

For the first time, Pan's damnable smirk disappeared. "Who?" he challenged. "Your father? Hook? They didn't want you, Bae. They let you go, tossed you out like garbage. They're not your family."

Bae swallowed. "No," he hoarsely responded. "They're not. The Darlings are."

"The Darlings?" he scoffed. "You were a charity case to them. You weren't their family! You were the mangy dog that their daughter dragged in off the street!"

"No," Bae whispered, clenching his fists. "You're wrong."

"Am I? Why are you here then? My shadow was about to take Michael. Why are you here instead of him?"

"Because of you," Bae hissed back. "I took Michael's place because I loved him. But I'm here because your shadow kidnapped me!"

"But the Darlings let you go," Pan retorted. "They chose Michael over you. You were expendable to them, he wasn't."

"No," Bae denied, shaking his head. "You're wrong. They loved me. Which is why I have to get back to them. I'm not lost, Pan. I don't belong in your Lost Boys; you have to let me go."

"Do I now?" he smirked. "I'm afraid I couldn't even if I wanted to. There is no way off of Neverland."

Baelfire's heart felt like it was being squeezed by a hard, icy fist. No. Pan was lying, he had to be.

Only, Baelfire wasn't so sure that he was. During his time on the streets, he had become skilled at detecting lies, but he had no idea if Pan was lying now. The boy confused him, seeming so familiar and so foreign all at once. He could claim the sky was speckled with purple dots and Baelfire wouldn't be able to tell if he was lying.

Suddenly reassuring, Pan placed his hand on Bae's shoulder. The boy tried to shrug it off, but it remained firmly planted on his shoulder. "But it doesn't have to be this way, Bae," Pan smiled, and Baelfire was reminded of the all-too-innocent smile of the Dealer. "You can become one of my Lost Boys, forget all your troubles, or you could spend all your time searching for a way back to a family that never really wanted you in the first place. I'd think carefully about the decision, if I were you."

Then, Pan was gone, leaving Baelfire alone with the pain in his head, the whispers surrounding him, and the burn burn burn of the flame in his chest.

Bae smoothly pulled the Sheriff's car into the cemetery parking lot. He took a deep breath and exited the vehicle, shaking off all the memories of abandonment and betrayal that had plagued him the entire ride over. He would need his wits about him for his next meeting.

Well, he thought, the Queen certainly knows how to choose a spooky yet cliche location for her Vault.

He had been surprised by her request for assistance. She seemed like the type who would rather slog through the problems herself than ask for help from an enemy. However, he wasn't about to say no. Not only would Henry never forgive him, but he would loose a chance to speed the process of returning the Royals while simultaneously learning a new magic.

Bae found his way to the largest mausoleum in the cemetery. The door was already cracked open. Cautiously, he slipped into the building and glanced around. The large stone coffin in the center of the room had been pushed to the side, revealing a descending staircase beneath the floors.

The former regent's irritated voice floated up from the lower level. "Would you hurry up, magic boy? I don't have all day."

"I suppose being the mayor is a time consuming profession," he called as he descended. "Oh, wait…."

Baelfire knew he shouldn't be antagonizing her, but it had been automatic. After so many years of mind games with Pan, he always had a sharp retort on the edge of his tongue. It was his armor, something that hid exactly how deep his opponent's verbal barbs had struck. Only now, it still came out non-threatening situations.

Bae pushed aside the stab of shame he felt. Wallowing in self-loathing would do him no good now; he could work on his people skills later. For now, he needed to focus.

(Still, a small part of him couldn't help but mourn on the loss of the polite, quiet boy from the Enchanted Forest who would never dream of speaking a harsh word to anyone.)

"Hello, Regina," he greeted. "Henry asked me to say hello from him as well as thank you for doing this. He wanted to be here too, but he had school."

Baelfire watched as a small bit of her ice cold expression melted at the mention of her son, and for a moment he thought that she may actually be able to "change" as she had promised.

Then, he remembered that his father used to look at him the same way, and the thought vanished.

"Henry," she said, trying to look nonchalant (and utterly failing at it). "How is he?"

"He's good. His nightmares have as good as stopped. The few times he travels to the Netherworld is foggy and unclear. He misses his family though."

"Ah," she said, looking downcast. "Yes, I suppose he would miss the Charmings."

"He does," Bae responded, watching her intently. "But you're included in his family. He misses you too. He asked me to make sure that no one harassed you while you were trying to change; he was worried about you."

"And what did you tell him?"

Baelfire shrugged. "That as long as I was Sheriff I would make sure to stop any trouble, no matter who it was directed at."

Regina snorted. "How noble of you."

Bae ignored the barb. While he doubted he could ever be the same quiet little boy he was when lived in the Enchanted Forest, he could still try to improve. "So, what did you need help with?"

"I need you to lay the preliminary enchantments," she said, gesturing to the two mirrors propped up in the corner. "The final connection will have to be formed when the moon reaches its zenith."

Bae glanced over at her work. There were a series of runes painted on the frame and face of the mirror. Intricate work, but didn't actually involve using magic. Baelfire raised his hand and focused, trying to twist his magic in the correct manner so that it interacted properly with the runes. If he did this incorrectly the mirrors would shatter, and they'd have to start from scratch. The script shimmered and sank beneath the surface. The object momentarily glowed, and then sat innocently on the table, no visible sign of an enchantment.

"You're not using your magic," Bae observed.

Regina glanced at him, startled, but quickly covered up her shock. "No, I'm not. I thought it would set back changing." She glanced over the boy, calculating. "You don't think I can do it," she accused.

"Stop using magic?" Baelfire snorted. "No, I don't. Take it from someone who's tried, you can't stop using magic. It refuses to be contained. Once it's a part of you, no matter what, it always finds a way out."

She seemed surprised momentarily, but forgoed the information that he attempted to quit magic in favor of pursuing the previous subject. "You don't think I can change," she snapped. "You think I'm going to fail Henry."

Baelfire stared at her, considering. "No, I don't think you can change," he answered honestly. "I think you're going to try, but inevitably slip back into old habits."

"Why?" she challenged.

"Honestly? Because I've seen it happen," Bae took in a deep breath. He didn't think Regina could change. Didn't believe she could change. And belief was everything, even if he wasn't on Neverland anymore. "My father made the exact same promise to me. And just like Henry, I was so freaking convinced he could change. But in the end, it didn't matter. I didn't matter. He chose power over me. So yes, I know what dark magic does to someone. I've seen what it does. And in the end, the call of dark magic so much stronger than any feeble desire to change."

Regina was watching him. "Have you told any of this to Henry?"

Bae glanced at her. "Even if I had told him, it wouldn't matter. He wouldn't give up on you. He'd believe in you, right up to the moment you give up on him." Bae looked at Regina directly. "I don't want to see Henry hurt, Regina. I can't stop him from believing in you, but that doesn't mean I'll sit by and watch him get hurt. If you try anything, I will do everything in my power to stop you."

Regina drew in a large breath and seemed to come to a decision. "Okay. Then teach me light magic."

"I'm sorry?"

Regina looked at him in challenge. "You don't want to see Henry hurt; neither do I. If dark magic hurts my chances with him, then teach me light magic."

Bae looked at her as if she was crazy. "It's not that simple."

"Make it that simple. Teach me magic."

"No, it's really not that simple," he insisted. "You've spent your entire life learning dark magic. Trying to learn light magic would be about as easy as trying to learn how to ride a motorcycle along the edge of a cliff while blindfolded! It's completely different from any magic you've ever done!"

She glared at him. "Henry trusts you. If you don't help me, then you'll be betraying that trust."

Baelfire's eyebrows shot up. "Are you serious?"

The look on Regina's face was answer enough.

Shaking his head, Bae responded. "You know what, fine. If you want to try, and you're willing to actually put forth the effort, than I'll do it. But you have to actually work at this. No giving up the moment it gets hard. It would crush Henry if you did."

Regina glared at him. "I never give up."

"Come over to the apartment tonight at seven. We can work until it's time to cast the final enchantment on the mirrors." Baelfire turned to leave, then stopped. On the shelf next to him there laid a small, innocuous box. It caught his attention immediately, or more accurately, the aura it was projecting did. It was the exact same magical signature as the one that absolutely drenched this entire town.

The Dark Curse.

"You didn't make it, did you?" he breathed, not turning away from the box.

The thought had been plaguing him ever since the Curse had broken. The Dark Curse was the most intricate spell Baelfire had ever even heard of, let alone experienced. It would have taken hundreds of years to make it. Regina only began to plan this when Snow White married. The Curse had been cast one year later. Even if she had been forming it her entire life, she still wouldn't have had enough time. There were very few candidates who had the skill and time to build it. The Sorcerer and maybe the Apprentice had the lifespans and power to make it, but the last time Bae checked Merlin had been stuck in a tree and, based off of his reputation, would have never dared to make something so dark in the first place. The Apprentice was like minded towards the curse, and had usually counted on his master for the magical innovations. It was unlikely either of them created it.

But there was another person who could make such a spell.

"Who made it?" Bae demanded when the Queen gave no answer.

"Rumplestiltskin."

"T-Rex to velociraptor. The compy has not approached the nest. I repeat, the compy has not approached the nest. Over."

Bae stared at the walkie-talkie in his hand. Then, he slowly raised it to his lips and quite eloquently stated, "What?"

He could hear Henry's exasperated sigh. "No sign of Paige's dad yet."

"Right," Baelfire slowly said. "Why didn't you just say that in the first place and what the heck is a velociraptor? Or anything else you just said, for that matter?"

"It's no fun if you don't speak in code and a velociraptor is a dinosaur. Didn't your curse memories tell you any of that?"

"Apparently not."

Henry sounded pained. "Alright. We can fix this. We'll start by binge watching the Jurassic Park movies. Not the most accurate, but it at least introduces the concept."

"Uh-huh," Bae replied, somewhat worried. "Where are you anyway?"

"In the tree over the jungle gym."

"Why?"

"It provides the best view of street. Any sign of Jefferson yet?"

Baelfire sighed. "Not on my end. It was always a long shot anyways."

Jefferson had left. But he wasn't planning on staying away, at least not at first. Either something made him change his mind about returning, or something had stopped him altogether. Either way, if he was in Storybrooke he may be hesitant to come back to Paige, uncertain if he was welcome. (Or he could be in another realm. Or he could have just decided that fatherhood didn't suit him and was avoiding Paige altogether. But Baelfire was trying not to think about that.) If that was the case, he may still be keeping an eye on his daughter. And the most obvious place to do that was at her school. Which is why he and Henry were staking out the playground in the middle of recess, trying to get a glance at Paige's elusive father.

"Bae, wait! Three o'clock! The compy is scoping out the nest at three o'clock!"

Bae jerked his head around in search of the "compy." He was at nine o'clock (and Baelfire really needed to teach Henry that particular skill while he taught Bae about these "velociraptors"). The man looked exactly as he had in the memory. He was gazing out to the playground, staring longingly at the blonde haired little girl in the distance (and honestly, even if Baelfire wasn't already looking for this man he'd still have to stop him. Strange men staring at small children while hidden in the shadows was a universal "not good" sign no matter what realm you were in). Bae began to slowly make his way towards the man. Unfortunately, Jefferson chose that exact moment to glance in his direction. Immediately, he broke out into a run in the opposite direction.

Baelfire groaned as began to follow the man. Really, he was not getting paid enough for this. He tracked the man through the twisting streets of the town, not falling behind or catching up.

Then, Jefferson ran into the forest.

This was a mistake.

It was harder to run in a forest than you'd think. Nowadays, people made a big deal about jogging through forests. They spoke of communing with nature and how peaceful it was, all while tromping along on the nice, smooth path. Running in the actual woods, with the rocks, branches, and roots that came out of nowhere and tripped you was much more difficult. Baelfire knew this from painful experience. He had, after all, spent several hundred years fleeing from deranged children through a jungle where literally everything was trying to kill him. Including the plants.

But, this had added effect at making him very good at running through a forest.

Baelfire crashed into the man at full tackle. This was probably one of those things Hopper would probably label as "unnecessary uses of force," but Baelfire didn't care. He had run from an officer of the law (a reluctant one, but an officer of the law nonetheless) and had ditched his kid. That was more than enough justification for Bae. He glared at the panting man sprawled out on the rocky ground.

"Hello Jefferson."

Honestly, the longer Bae spent on Neverland, the more he hated it. The Lost Boys unnerved him, Pan was just plain creepy, the whispers were getting louder, and the burn of the flame had settled into a dull throb, always reminding him of its presence.

And, most of all, Bae missed his family.

He didn't mean Hook or his Papa (well, he did actually miss them to, but he was trying not to admit it to himself). He meant the Darlings. His real family.

Pan's little show back in the woods had been convincing, but it had been just that, a show. Meant to fool, but still an illusion. And Baelfire refused to fall for the illusion of family Pan had built on his twisted little island.

Love meant sacrifice. It meant trust. Bae loved the Darlings, and it had been his choice to sacrifice himself to keep them safe. And now, it would be his choice to trust that they had loved him back.

Bae tried not to think about what had happened when he disappeared from the nursery. What had Wendy told her parents? Did they think he had left? Run away? One thought he couldn't bear was the idea that the Darlings would only think of him as some ruffian, one that had broke into their perfect lives before fleeing back to the gutter, leaving their children broken hearted in his wake.

What if they instead thought some horrible ill had befallen him? What if they searched fruitlessly, never finding a clue about their missing ward? Bae couldn't bear that thought either. Mr and Mrs Darling had loved their children more than anything else in the world, Baelfire included. It would crush them to lose a child, and Bae had been trying to stop that by coming here in the first place.

What if they didn't think anything at all? What if they didn't know he was gone yet?

Baelfire had a hope, one that he didn't dare voice out loud. Wendy had spent several days in Neverland, but had returned by daybreak. What Baelfire wished for more than anything was that this happened regardless of how long you spent on the island. He wanted to fly back in the early morning rays, and see Wendy and the boys sleeping by the window, just as he had in what felt like an eternity ago. He wanted to hug Mr and Mrs Darling and pretend it was all a dream. That there was no Neverland. That Pan and his Lost Boys had never even existed. That he hadn't discovered that his father had killed his mother. That there had never been a Hook. There hadn't been someone Baelfire had dared to try to love, to almost consider becoming a family with, only to have been betrayed again. He could go back to his happy life in London, with his studies and games and family.

Please, Gods let it all be a dream.

The man was glancing up, seeming to consider whether he'd be able to run again. "You wouldn't make it," Bae calmly stated.

Jefferson's eyes snapped towards him. "What seems to be the problem, Sheriff?"

Bae raised an eyebrow. "Do you want to start with the fact that you ran? Or we could discuss why your daughter hasn't seen you since before the Curse."

Jefferson winced. "Since when is my family life the affair of the Sheriff's Office?"

Baelfire fixed him with a piercing glare. "It became my affair when your daughter showed up to file a missing person's report. It appears you were never really missing at all. Just hiding," he said, his voice hard.

Jefferson glared right back as he clambered to his feet. "It's none of your business. Move out of my way," he said as he tried to brush past Baelfire.

Bae didn't move.

"Your daughter is looking for you," Bae pressed. "She misses you! And based on how you were watching that park, you miss her too. Why aren't you with her?"

"It's none of your business; move," Jefferson repeated.

"She's been posting signs all over town! She wants to be with you!"

"What if she doesn't?" Jefferson snapped. He stared at Baelfire, breathing heavily. "What if she never wants to see me again?" he asked, suddenly quiet. "What if she hates me for not being there? After all, I left her. What if she takes one look at me and decides she never wants to see me again?"

Baelfire stared at him. "It doesn't matter."

Jefferson looked at him in surprise.

"It doesn't matter," Bae repeated. "Because that's her choice. Not yours. And right now, she's choosing to see you again, and you're letting her down again by avoiding her. You're hurting her by not seeing her. She's miserable! She shows up at the diner early every morning, hoping for news about a father that's too much of a coward to even let her know he's alive!"

Jefferson didn't respond, and suddenly Baelfire had had enough. He had had enough of abandoned kids, enough of fathers who were too big of a coward to bother with parenthood. Henry or Ruby or anyone else would have been a better choice to handle this; Bae couldn't anymore. "You know what? Forget it," he hissed, turning around and walking away. Then, he stopped. He spun around and looked at Jefferson; he had one more thing to say. "I can't make you be a father," he called. "No one can. And right now, Paige wants you to be one. But it's not going to always be like that. Sooner or later, she won't care anymore. She'll stop wondering why you never came back, because in the end, the why doesn't matter. Knowing why won't change the fact that you left her. And when that happens, you'll lose her. Forever."

Then Baelfire turned around and walked out of the forest, the crunch of the leaves the only sound answering him.

The pawn shop was deceptively innocent, Baelfire decided. No one would ever suspect that it was the business of the Dark One.

Seeing Jefferson had awakened old, bitter questions in Bae. Namely, why had his father gone back on their deal? Why hadn't Baelfire been enough?

And the only person who had that answer was Rumplestiltskin.

While he was living on the streets, he would have given anything just to speak with his father one last time. To find out what was so freaking special about that dagger that his Papa had chosen it over him.

And that really had been the part that hurt the most about his father's betrayal. His Papa had chosen an inanimate object over his own son. He had chosen the Dark One's blade and all the power that came with it.

And he hadn't chosen Bae.

Baelfire had chosen his Papa. He had always chosen his Papa. When the neighboring boys had insulted the Village Coward, Baelfire had refused to stand for it. He came home black and blue over and over again because he had decided to defend his Papa's honor. And every single time, he had tried to hide his wounds so that his father wouldn't feel guilty.

When his father had asked Bae for help retrieving the dagger, he had done it. He had helped set the fire instead of going to war, because despite believing that he could fight like everyone else, he loved his Papa too much to hurt him.

Now, he wished the gods had struck him down before he had lit a single piece of straw.

After the Dark One took over the sweet, gentle man that used to be his father, Bae still chose him. He had been telling the truth that night at the Piper's bonfire. He would have chosen his father.

And in the end, it was choosing his father that had damned him. Baelfire had chosen to leave the Enchanted Forest. If he couldn't be with his Papa in a land with magic, then he would go to one without magic. If he had to choose between his father and magic, he would choose his father every time.

Apparently his father hadn't felt the same way.

And now, once again, Baelfire wanted to know why.

For a while, he had convinced himself he didn't care. Why his father had left him didn't change the fact that he did, or at least so Baelfire had told now there was whole new questions Bae had to contend with.

Why had his father made the Curse?

Bae suspected (knew) that it was because of him, but he wanted confirmation. He wanted his father to look him in the eye and tell him that all the suffering that had happened in the Curse was because of Baelfire and that cursed magic bean.

Then, he wanted to punch his father in the face.

Okay, he (probably) wasn't going to punch his Papa in the face. But he was still livid at him.

Baelfire had wanted to leave the Enchanted Forest because he hated how his Papa always hurt people there. And his father had decided to try and fix this by hurting the entire Enchanted Forest.

Really, really not going to work.

Baelfire realized he probably looked like an idiot, staring stupidly at a pawn shop for at least fifteen minutes. Gathering his courage, he walked across the street and paused at the door. Did he really want to do this?

Yes, he did.

The door chimed as Bae pushed it open.

He went inside.

Pan was watching him. He was always watching him. At the moment he was staring intently at Bae while seated on a log, fingering his pipes as he thought. He seemed to be trying to solve the realm's greatest puzzle, and Baelfire was a particularly difficult piece.

The boy had always seemed… strange to Baelfire. Like he was familiar and foreign all at once. And it seemed that Baelfire himself was strange to the rest of the Lost Boys. They always cast strange looks towards him, as if he was some kind of rare, unusual creature. They weren't scared necessarily, just… uncertain.

Bae had to physically restrain himself from shaking his head in frustration. Ever since Pan's discussion with him, things had gotten worse. The whispers hadn't stopped, the burning had gotten more agitated, and now it felt like he had forgotten something. Something important. But every time he tried to touch the thought, it slipped out of his grasp.

"Baelfire," Pan called as he rose into standing position. "Care for a Game?"

"I never really cared much for games," he called back, gazing at Pan in suspicion. "No one ever seemed to play by the rules."

Pan smiled at him, a sick, twisted grin. "You'll like this one then. On my island, everyone abides by the rules. If they don't, they have to answer to me."

"What is the game?" Baelfire didn't like this. Everything seemed to be moves and countermoves with this boy, a part of some game no one ever realized they were playing.

"We call it Battle," he replied. He was staring at Baelfire in anticipation, and he had a feeling that whatever the boy said next, Bae wouldn't like it. "And only a coward flees from a battle, right Baelfire?"

Bae didn't rise to the bait. He just gazed at the Piper cooly as his stomach twisted in anger. "And would I be playing against you?"

Pan smirked, amused. "You're not quite ready for that. Samuel! Front and center!"

A tall, thin boy with a nasty scar around his throat jumped to his feet. Pan glanced at him. "Why don't you help show Baelfire the Game?"

The boy gave a dangerous smile, and Bae's stomach clenched. "How do you play?"

"The rules of the Game are very simple," Pan replied as he crouched to retrieve a stick from the ground. "Catch."

When the stick landed in his hand, it transformed into a long, gleaming sword. A long, gleaming, sharp sword. Baelfire furrowed his eyebrows. "This is real."

"That's what makes the Game interesting. The object of this Game is to stop your opponent. Now, I did promise you you did not have to worry about rule breakers? Well, the only rule is: there are no rules. Begin!"

Bae barely managed to raise his sword to block the first strike. He was in no way prepared for this. The closest thing he had ever had to this was play fighting with sticks in the woods, and after his father became the Dark One no one was very interested in playing with him. He stumbled backwards, trying to block each thrust from the much larger and more experienced boy.

He jumped back to avoid the blade that whistled past his throat. Clumsily, he tried to counter attack. Samuel knocked the sword from his hand with a laugh. Baelfire stood before him, unarmed, as the rest of the Lost Boys jeered and shouted at him.

Pan only watched.

He had lost the game. He was unarmed in a short, embarrassing match. Samuel had one, just as Pan had probably intended him to from the beginning.

But Samuel did not stop fighting.

Baelfire only barely managed to dodge an unexpected swipe of the blade. Over and over again, Samuel attacked, and Baelfire leapt aside.

"The Game's not over yet, Bae," Pan called, his tone unreadable.

Glancing aside for an escape, Bae saw nothing. They were barred in on all sides by the Lost Boys; there was no way out.

Then, he had an idea.

He broke through the crowd, with Samuel close behind. There, stuck in a log, was a short, dull blade. He had seen one of the Lost Boys whittling with it earlier, complaining that he had to sharpen it yet again. Hopefully it would be sharp enough for the task Bae had in mind. He yanked it out of the log and spun around, grasping it with both hands as he pointed it towards Samuel.

The boy laughed. "What are you going to do with that?" he sneered.

Bae slowly backed away, not taking his eyes off the Lost Boy.

"No, really," the teen continued. "What are you going to do with a pathetic little blade like that? Poke me with it?"

"I had other things in mind." With those words, Bae reached the tree line. Quickly, he spun around, swinging the small blade towards the trunk of the nearest tree, severing the rope attached to it. This particular tree housed many of the supplies for the Lost Boy's camp. They had strung it up in the trees to protect it from animals.

And Samuel was standing under the bag of supplies.

The heavy sack clipped his opponent on its journey towards the ground. The Lost Boy tumbled to the earth with it, and that was enough for Bae. He darted forward and grabbed Samuel's sword, turning it on its owner.

"The game's over," Bae gasped, daring Samuel to disagree. "It's over."

"Not quite," Pan cut in, gliding over to the quarrel with a smug look on his face. "Keep going, Baelfire."

Bae briefly darted his eyes to the boy before focusing again on his fallen opponent. "What are you talking about? He's unarmed. The game is done."

"The Game isn't over until I say it is. And I say that it ends when you draw blood."

Bae hesitated. Pan pressed harder. "Come on Bae. You're not a coward who refuses to fight, are you? Are you just. Like. Him?"

Baelfire stiffened at the mention of his father. His father hadn't fought, that was true. It was something that had haunted him his entire life. He always had to do twice as much, work twice as hard, just to get half as much as everyone else. All because his father had been a coward. And he always had to ask himself the same question.

Was he a coward?

No, he wasn't.

Bae strengthened his resolve and raised the sword.

The blade fell.

And landed at Pan's feet.

"It's not bravery to strike at an unarmed opponent," he said, his voice quiet but firm. The game is over."

All the Lost Boys were silent, looking between the Piper and the not-quite-a-Lost-Boy. Bae pushed past the mage. Peter Pan grabbed his arm in a bruising grip.

For an eternity, they stared at each other, testing one another's resolve.

Baelfire tugged his arm free and walked out of the camp.

Pan watched him leave.

The last thing Rumplestiltskin wanted to do was deal with yet another whining citizen. His dealings as Dark One seemed to leave them with the impression that that was his sole purpose in life. They were wrong. He had only one purpose anymore.

Finding Bae.

He had dedicated over a hundred years to achieving that purpose. And now, finally it was almost within his grasp.

Keyword being almost.

He should have never forgotten the price of magic. Well, he hadn't forgotten, per say, but he had forgotten how it could apply to him as well. He had never even imagined that bringing magic to this realm could have further severed him from his son. Now, he couldn't leave this damned town. Not without forgetting about the Enchanted Forest, about Rumpelstiltskin, about Bae.

For so long, he had directed the price of magic upon others. Need a magical cure? He could give it to you, but the price would be your prize cow. Need to save your farm? It will cost you your first born.

And for just as long, he had heard them cry that the price was too high.

They were ignorant fools. They didn't know the meaning of a high price. Rumplestiltskin did. After all, he had paid the highest price for his magic.

He had paid his son.

He hadn't meant to. He had become the Dark One to save his son, not lose him. Nothing could have persuaded him to part with Baelfire.

Until a moment of blind panic, of cowardice, made him do exactly that.

And ever since that moment everything he did was to get him back. If he made a deal, it was to build up his reputation, or set up the correct circumstances, so that the right person would come to him. And when they came, it was to deal. And that deal would pull the threads of Fate, and send them all spinning and spinning down the path that would lead him to his son.

Yes, he had committed atrocities. Yes, he had done so many bad things that his heart bled black. Yes, Baelfire would have been horrified by everything he had done.

But none of that mattered (well, the last one did matter, but he'd figure that one out. He figures everything out, eventually).

Because he would get him back.

And when he did… Well, he still wasn't sure. Somehow, he'd get Bae to forgive him. Somehow, he'd earn back his son. He'd show Bae that he could be brave, do the right thing, anything, if that's what it took to get his son back.

And then they would be a family. Him and Bae and Belle.

He just had to figure out how.

He was in the process of trying to do just that when his bell rang, signaling a customer, or, more likely, another townsperson coming to whine to him about their missing property (which he may or may not possess).

He sighed and grabbed his cane. As he made his way out to the front of the shop he called (in an only slightly annoyed tone), "Yes, how can I help you?"

The shop was empty.

Baelfire stood outside the school, trying not to think about how big of a mistake he had almost made.

How could he have forgotten?

His father was a manipulator. He was cruel and sadistic. And he never listened when Baelfire had told him to stop.

No, wait, he was wrong. The Dark One was like that. His father had been a kind, gentle man who Baelfire had loved. His father would have never done the things the Dark One did.

His father was dead. The Dark One had killed him.

And Bae had almost made the mistake of inviting his father's murderer back into his life.

It was the ball that had brought him back to his senses. The stupid leather ball that had cost a man his life. (And Baelfire tried very hard not to listen to the voice that whispered that it wasn't the ball, but Bae that had cost the man his life.)

(No, Papa, no. Please Papa, don't. Papa! Papa!)

(Squish.)

(Stupid Bae. Should have tried harder, should have been better, should have should have should have…. too late, he already failed.)

That ball made Baelfire remember just what exactly his father had been like (not that Bae ever really had forgotten). Made him remember just what exactly his father had done. And he knew that if his father ever knew where he was he wouldn't let him leave again.

And he almost brought that man back into his life.

He almost brought him into Henry's life.

And that was one thing he could never, ever do. Not after everything that had happened.

(No, Papa, no. Please Papa, don't. Papa! Papa!)

(Squish.)

And so he had turned around and walked back out the door, then had his magic take him as far away as possible. Then, he spent the rest of the time until he had to pick up Henry trying very, very hard to forget about what he almost did.

He was failing miserably at it.

There was still half an hour until the school let out, but Bae had come anyways. He couldn't be alone with his thoughts anymore. He needed to see Henry, make sure he was safe.

Of course, coming hadn't made the school day end any faster. It just meant he got to be anxious in a whole new location.

Someone walked up on his left, and Baelfire had to restrain himself to keep from jumping. He was too high strung, too on edge. Trying to appear nonchalant, he glanced at the newcomer.

It was Jefferson.

To put it simply, he looked like he was going to be sick. He was glancing between Baelfire and the school door anxiously, his hands clenched so tightly his knuckles had turned white. He gave a short nod to Bae and glued his gaze to the double doors, twisting the edge of his shirt in his hands.

Baelfire smiled.

Exactly thirty-one minutes later, the doors opened and a flock of children streamed from the entrance. Bae searched through the crowd, trying to pick out Henry.

He was in the back, showing Paige something in his book.

Jefferson must have seen them the same time as he did, because he cleared his throat and called out, "Grace!"

Grace looked up. She looked stunned, then hopeful, then so, so happy. "Papa!" she cried, throwing herself in his arms. "I knew you'd find me!"

Baelfire watched it all with a bittersweet smile. He was glad for Paige (Grace?) and her father, glad they got their Happily Ever After.

He just couldn't help but be bitter that he'd never get the same with his Papa. There was far too much bad blood for that.

"Hey," Henry said as he ran up to Bae. They watched as Jefferson picked up his daughter and carried her away. "You did it."

Bae glanced at Henry with a smile. "You were the one that decided to help Paige. You were the one that spotted Jefferson. All I did was tackle the guy. I think it'd be more accurate to say you did it."

Henry rolled his eyes, pleased and embarrassed all at once. "We did it, then."

Bae could live with that compromise. "So, how was school?" he asked as they began to walk off.

He may never get some kind of fairytale reunion with his Papa. He may always secretly feel like some kind of screwed up, unwanted little Lost Boy. But he had Henry.

And that was enough.

"Did you really tackle that guy?"

Baelfire laughed.

Baelfire tromped through the woods, trying to ignore the frantic beat beat beat of his heart.

He had just rebelled against Peter Pan. He had disobeyed the mage in front of all of his Lost Boys.

Baelfire had seen his Papa kill people for much, much less.

What made it worse was that his Papa had been scared of the Piper, scared of what he was capable of. And that did not bode well for Bae.

It didn't matter. He had made his decision. He was not a coward, would never be a coward, not like Hook and his Papa and so many others. Bae wouldn't let himself become that.

The whispers had gotten worse.

They were arguing now, in a language Bae didn't understand. It sounded like two voices, one airy and innocent, like a child, and one deep and dark and ancient.

Frustrated, Bae shouted, "What do you want?"

The whispers stopped.

Then, they started again, but only the voice of the child. It was urging him onwards, beckoning him deeper into to forest.

Bae followed.

It probably wasn't the smartest decision he had ever made, but he needed to do something. Everything was spiraling out of control. The whispers were worse, the you've-forgotten-something nag stronger, and the flame in his chest hotter than ever. At least following the mysterious voice was better than nothing.

The deeper he went into the forest, the louder the voice became, and the more worried Baelfire was. He was about to turn back, convinced he had made a horrible mistake, when the trees thinned, and he was standing on the edge of a cliff.

It was a quite impressive view of Neverland's glistening harbor, but Baelfire couldn't enjoy it. The cliff also happened to give a rather spectacular view of a certain pirate's ship.

"Great," he muttered as he turned away. "Even my own delusions are reminding me of being abandoned."

The child's voice became more urgent, seemingly saying, Look look look.

Sighing Baelfire turned back around and looked at the ship. "Okay, what?" he asked, raising his arms helplessly. "I see the ship. What now?"

The whispers built, strange words flowing over each other, twisting together, before suddenly stopping.

And Baelfire remembered.

The nagging thought that he had forgotten something disappeared, and a realization rushed through his brain, memories flooding through him like water from a broken dam.

Pan had lied.

He had said there was no way to leave Neverland. He lied.

While he had still been on the ship, he had spoken with Hook often. And once, Hook had mentioned he had been to Neverland before, but left and destroyed the path to the realm, only to come back years later through a different method.

There was a way to leave Neverland.

Bae just had to find it.

Finally done! Believe it or not, this chapter was supposed to be a lot longer, but once I passed thirty pages I realized I had to split it up into two. Sorry folks! On the upside, that second chapter should be shorter and therefore the update will be sooner. Hopefully.

I hope I did Pan alright. I had a lot of trouble writing his dialogue.

Also, if anyone who can figure out what the "flame" and/or whispers are, then they get a shout out! Start guessing, people!

Okay, I'm totally evil for making it look like Rumple and Bae were about to reunite, then not doing it. Don't worry, I have something special planned for that.

I'm going to try and get this up tonight, because I probably won't have time tomorrow, so I won't be able to proof read this chapter. If I have any major mistakes that I fix, I'll let you know next chapter. Thanks for reading!