A/N: Finally, we find out how Peter and Rumpel know each other in this version of the tale.
Cassandra beat against the drum with her palms, the hollow thumps in time with the other drummers. She watched Darrel as he hopped to the rhythm, pulling faces that brought rise to giggles from the younger boys who tried to mimic his actions.
The appearance of three figures caught her eye. Her hands slowed as she observed Peter carrying a 'sleeping' Wendy through the clearing, Henry at his heels. They passed through the throng without a second glance from the excitable dancers. The boys simply twirling out the way of their leader, continuing to move in time to the thundering beat.
"Andie!" Cassandra's gaze shot from where the trio had disappeared through the bushes, to Darrel's teasing grin. He was stood still, panting as he caught his breath. "Call that a tune?" He nodded to her hands that now lay still on the skin of the instrument.
"Is that a challenge?" She piped up and the music fell silent.
"Damn right it is." He narrowed his eyes. The small crowd watched in anticipation, eyes glued to the girl eyeing the drum in her lap.
BANG!
Cassandra smacked the instrument once, its sound leaving the atmosphere tenser than before.
BANG!
She did so again. This time following with another beat. And another. Each slam became faster and faster and soon a quiet patter grew in the background as the other drummers joined in. Darrel began to dance, jumping from foot to foot. As the tempo continued to increase, Darrel's movements rapidly turned jagged and haphazard. Waving his arms in the air and twisting in circles when he leaped. The thing about Darrel, his face never became pink. When he was tired, his complexion transitioned suddenly from pale white to a red more vibrant than his hair. Soon, he had turned that very colour, yet still he didn't give in. The beats almost seemed to slur into one and it wasn't until Peter marched back into the clearing that Cassandra decided to wrap up their game.
She hit the drum three times in quick succession with both hands to signal to the others. On the third beat, all sounds stopped instantaneously. You could have heard a pin drop if it weren't for the heaving breaths of a shattered Darrel who had now collapsed to the floor.
"My brothers!" Peter began as he came to a halt in the centre of the group, Henry at his tail. "Tonight, the dream of Neverland will awaken from its slumber." The triumph in his tone did not go unnoticed amongst the Lost Boys, and they listened eagerly, hungry for what he had to share. "Tonight, the heart of the truest believer shall fulfil its destiny, and with it our destiny... Tonight, Henry saves magic!"
A chorus of hoots and cheers sprung to life, immersing the clearing in noise. Yet, as Cassandra sat there, she had never felt like more of an outsider.
/
"Peter!" A small voice echoed through the trees, reaching a figure camouflaged against the bark. Peter sat at the base of a tree, amongst the autumn leaves heaped on the soil. He admired their multitude of colours: coppery browns, dull yellows, vivid crimsons. At the sound of his friend, he lifted his scruffy head, idly watching as the miniature form scurried through the woods searching for him. Peter whistled and chuckled at how sharply Rumpel's head shot towards him. The child's eyes widened with relief as he spotted the mud-caked boy and he sprinted across the crisp layer of leaves.
"Peter. I can't find him!" The strong accent twanged, filled with panic.
"Who?" He asked in a bored manner, already knowing who Rumpel was referring to.
"My father! He's not at the house, o-or the mill or-"
"Rumpel. I told you already." Peter sighed, rolling onto the balls of his feet and pushing himself up. "He'll be at the pub."
"But he swore he wouldn't go today. I made him promise."
"Just as you did yesterday." Peter began strolling towards the town, Rumpel at his heels. "And the day before that...and the day before that."
"I thought this time would be different." The boy pouted, kicking at the leaves.
"It will never be different." Peter looked at the sad boy with a twinge of sympathy. "C'mon, I'll race you."
As intended, Rumpel beamed and his little legs sprung into motion. Peter made sure to run only slightly ahead, still able to hear the boy's sharp breaths. They burst from the woods, weaving through the crowds as they raced over the cobbles.
"Almost there!" Peter yelled over his shoulder causing Rumpel's steps to grow faster and faster. The older boy smirked and lengthened his strides as the finish came into sight. The pair smashed into the wall of the pub, Peter a few seconds before Rumpel.
"You're too fast." He complained between panting breaths.
"But you're getting faster." Peter patted him on the back. "You've been paying attention."
"You're always gonna beat me."
"Because you haven't been listening to me completely." He crouched down to look into his eyes. "Stop running because you're chasing me and just run for the sake of it. It's just you. You and the ground beneath your feet. That's how it should always be."
"You make it sound easy." Rumpel huffed.
"It is." He grinned. "Now let's go inside." Peter shoved at the door, swinging it wide open. The stench of ale and rum floated through, burning their noses.
/
The bushes rustled. However, the Lost Boys were oblivious. Several sets of eyes peered at the children from between the leaves. Each determined, focused on their goal. One of the invaders waved her hand and, as if dousing a candle, the light of each boy went out as they fell asleep.
Henry's team of rescuers crept into the clearing, ready to attack at a moment's notice. They scanned the faces of the bodies. After discovering Henry was nowhere to be seen, nor was the demon that kidnapped him, each set of shoulders slumped.
"Where's Pan?" Neal asked.
"I don't know... Henry!" Emma yelled.
"He's gotta be somewhere." David declared, still searching.
"Where!" Snow exclaimed.
"Any sign of Cassandra?" Emma asked the others.
"No, she's not here. Do you think she went back to Pan at all?" Snow wondered.
"'Course she did. You heard her in Echo Cave. No matter what pain it causes her, she'll always wander back to him, pining like a-"
"Hook." Emma cut the pirate off. "Not helping."
"So, she'll be with Henry and Pan then." David concluded.
"Looks like it." Emma confirmed, nodding.
"Help!" A small voice cried. Emma's head shot up, her eyes wide as she chased after the sound. She burst through the bushes and slowed to a stop. Her panting filling the silent gap between her and the owner of the plea. Looking at Emma with frightened doe-like eyes, was a young girl, trapped in a cage.
"You're an-" The girl was filled with disbelief. "An adult."
"My name's Emma." Cutting to the point, Emma shoved back the itch in her mind trying to figure out who the girl was. She felt as if she should have known. "I'm looking for my son."
"Wendy?" Neal appeared. At the way he addressed the girl, the realisation clicked within Emma's head. Wendy Darling. Of course. Who else.
"Do I know you?" Wendy enquired.
"It's Baelfire." Neal grinned broadly.
"You two know each other?" Emma asked, perplexed. Wendy considered Neal for a moment, her eyes narrowed as she tried to make the link.
"Bae!" She gasped.
"Yeah. Yeah, we do." Neal mused to Emma, his tone warm.
"Can it really be you?" Wendy smiled brightly as Neal hurried to her. He rattled the cage door, but the bars remained firmly in pace. He grabbed a rock from the ground and smashed it against the lock. Again, and again. Finally, the metal broke and the door swung open, freeing the girl in her scruffy nightwear.
"I thought I'd never see you again." Wendy spoke as she embraced Neal.
"What are you- wh- what are you doing here?" The words burst from his mouth in disbelief.
"Well, I- I came back to save you." She stumbled.
"You did that for me?"
"Well, I couldn't bear for you to be without a family, not after you told us that your mother and father were both dead." She answered, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.
"You told her I was dead?" Rumpel growled.
"It was easier than telling the truth," Neal quipped before trailing off, almost embarrassed. "My own father abandoned me."
/
"Oi! Malcolm." Peter marched towards the haggard man bent over a pack of cards. Malcolm paid neither him nor Rumpel any attention. Focusing on the man opposite with a giddy, drunken smile on his face. All of a sudden, the man grew agitated, banging a fist against the table.
"You tricked me!" Peter sighed as the offended grabbed Malcolm's wrist, revealing the card he had been hiding. Without hesitation, the man threw a punch at Malcolm's face, knocking him backwards. Rumpel immediately scampered towards the pair and clutched at the stranger's arm.
"Please!" He begged. "Don't hurt him, he's my father."
Peter frowned, looking at the hopeless boy with pity. The man looked straight into the boy's pleading eyes.
"You'd be better off without him." The look on Rumpel's face. He was distraught. Peter couldn't believe that after all that pathetic mess had put him through, Rumpel was still desperate for no harm to come to him. The man shoved Malcolm against the wall, winding him. As the trickster fell to the floor, the man grabbed a bag of coins from him and hurried off.
"Are you okay?" Rumpel shrieked to his father. Malcolm had no capability to acknowledge his idiocy. He had the nerve to joke about the rudeness of the man. He assured his son that all the money he just lost presented no real problem. The boy fretted, acting like the true grown up. Nothing like the pitiful excuse of a human that still lay on the floor.
Peter scoffed. Still unable to believe his eyes after all these years. "I think it's time we went home, don't you Malcolm?" He glared at Malcolm who was staggering to his feet.
"Quite right." Malcolm slurred. "Come Rumpel, it'll be getting dark soon." He smiled wearily and the trio made their back to their small, crumbling home.
/
The jungle floor was damp and cold. Cassandra's bare feet padded against the dirt as she skipped along after Peter and her brother. Light breaths of wind swam through the trees, causing the branches to wave as she passed. In any other situation, this would have been calming, friendly even. But, given where she was headed, it felt like more of a send-off. The kind where she was saying goodbye to her life as it was. Whoever came out of this alive, be it Peter or Henry, nobody would come out unscathed.
The moon watched from above, its eyes scrutinizing her actions and conscience. There were no kind looks from that glistening orb. If the tales about a man on the moon were true, he would certainly not be helping her tonight.
The only eyes that watched with pride, were the two yellow beams glowing in the dark. She bristled as the gaze glued to her like slime, increasing her pace to try and shake it off.
The shadow had been her first friend. Over the course of her time in Neverland, she learned it wasn't as honest and good as it had seemed. It was cunning. The soft spot it appeared to have for her was all imagined. She still liked the shadow, regardless of its true intentions. For the visits it had paid her as a young child, although part of a plot, had helped her nonetheless.
So the shadow to her, was indeed like an old friend... only she'd rather keep it at a distance.
Bursting from the wall of trees, feet sunk into sand.
"We have to row there? Can't we fly?" Henry queried curiously as he eyed a small boat perched on the beach.
"I'm afraid I'm not strong enough to carry the three of us, Henry. Not with the island's magic fading away."
Cassandra furrowed her brows, Peter sure was laying it on thick. Did he usually do this? Had she not noticed or had she simply not cared?
They pushed against the dark wood and the boat slipped into deeper water, allowing it to float. Henry scrambled in with a new sense of urgency. The two older individuals had to hold it steady due to his chaotic movements. Cassandra followed swiftly, the boat hardly swaying, sitting behind her brother at the rear of their mini vessel.
Peter pushed them slightly further into the sea, the boat slowly drifted outwards until it was stopped by the tug of Peter's hold. As the green-clad boy swung himself into the boat, Henry strained his neck trying to look at Cassandra without moving his body.
"Andie..." He trailed off, voice radiating uncertainty.
"It's okay Henry, I promise." Henry returned her smile with glee. Cassandra clenched her teeth behind her sealed lips. A false promise, the very thing she loathed. Her heart clogged with a sensation that had become painfully familiar to her these past few days.
Guilt.
/
Peter was up early that next morning. Searching around the pub for coins dropped by those too drunk to notice. The sun was climbing steadily into the sky. Fearful of being seen crawling through dirt, and the rumours that would cause, Peter decided to head to the Baker's. Elongating his spine as he stood so he looked as gentlemanly as a dirt-covered boy could, he strolled down the street- four coins jingling in his pockets.
The smell of freshly baked bread was yet to enter Peter's nose, when he spotted a familiar figure heading into town.
"Malcolm!" Peter hollered, chasing after him. The man halted, and swiftly spun around.
"Where're you going?"
"Rumpel asked me to find a job." He stated absentmindedly.
"For some reason, I don't think that answers my question."
"I'm going into town, we need food." He spluttered.
"For starters, the Baker's is that way." Peter pointed in the opposite direction. "Secondly, I seem to recall us not having any money."
"You act as if it's my fault." Malcolm grinned widely, clapping the boy on the back.
"It is!" He seethed. "You lost it all last night! Or were you too drunk to remember?"
Malcolm's eyes clouded over. All jest had vanished. "How dare you!" The man spat, prodding at Peter's chest.
"Are you joking! You fool, what the hell were you thinking!" Peter yelled, not caring who heard. "Trying to do bloody card tricks when you're drunk!"
The next thing Peter knew was that he was on the floor. He felt wetness at his nose and he wiped at it, his hand coming away with smears of red. Peter blinked at the blood, looking up at the man in disbelief.
"I will not be spoken to like this!" Malcolm raged, though his voice was quieter he seemed more dangerous. "After all I've done for you. I took you in when you had nobody and this is what I get?" Malcolm shook his head. "No, I won't stand for it. Get out of my sight. Don't go back to the house and stay the hell away from my son."
The man turned around, fleeing the scene before any onlookers could make a fuss. Peter watched him until he disappeared around a corner, then clambered to his feet. There was one thing clear in his mind.
Rumpel couldn't stay here- with him.
They would leave town. They'd go wherever they needed to if it meant Rumpel could be safe, if it meant they could have a new life.
Since Malcolm was probably headed to the pub, now was Peter's chance. He raced back to the house, not stopping for a rest. He burst through the door only to find the small cabin empty.
"Rumpel?" He shouted, checking the boy wasn't hiding anywhere. Peter grabbed a bag and threw some of his and Rumpel's belongings in it. It was unlikely they'd get a chance to return to the house without Malcolm catching them. He slung the pack over his shoulder and marched out the door.
/
"Hey, Wendy, since you've been here, have you seen my son? His name's Henry."
"You have a son?" Wendy feigned naivety.
"Yeah," He nodded. "A daughter too... but let's not get into that right now. Thing is, Pan needs his heart."
"Has he said anything about the heart of the truest believer?" Emma piped up. Impatient to discover useful information.
"No. I'm sorry. He never mentioned anything about a heart." Wendy lied through her teeth, trying to mimic Pan in all the ways she knew how. Eye contact. Speak slowly, steadily. It's not them you have to try and convince, it's yourself. They have no reason not to trust you... not yet.
"She's lying. Where is he?" The sharp words of the Dark One, sent Wendy's heart tumbling into a panic. She scolded herself for thinking she could get away with it. Despite being on Neverland much longer than Cassandra, the older girl had picked up Pan's tricks both faster and better than she had. Mischief was in that girl's blood, even if by some miracle she tried to change her ways... it would find her. Just as it would for Pan.
It didn't take long for Wendy to admit she had been lying. Her heart ached as she saw Neal's face drop. Feeling betrayed that she would deny him help when he needed it most. When she explained it was down to her protecting her brothers, Neal's expression softened with understanding.
"Wendy... we will save John and Michael, I swear to God. But right now, I really need your help." Neal begged, staring into Wendy's eyes. "Please."
Giving in, Wendy hesitantly revealed what she knew. The fear of Pan continued to claw at the back of her mind. Ears still thrumming, she took deep breaths as she tried to slow her racing pulse.
"Pan told Henry that... he needs his heart to save magic." She swallowed nervously. "But it's a lie. He needs it to save himself."
"What do you mean?" Neal asked.
"Pan's dying." She explained. "He needs the heart of the truest believer to absorb all the magic in Neverland. And once he does... he will be immortal, all powerful."
"And what happens to Henry?" Snow questioned desperately.
"Well, it's a trade." Dreading the looks that were about to appear on their faces, Wendy disclosed the final details of the scheme. "When Pan lives, Henry will die."
The group fell into a heavy silence, it felt as though it were dragging each of them into the ground.
"One last thing," Emma's gaze, glued to the floor, flickered to Wendy. "What does he want with Cassandra?"
Wendy hesitated.
"I don't think even Pan knows anymore."
/
It was mid-afternoon when Peter at last found the small bundle of energy he had been looking for. Little Rumpel was skipping down the cobbled road, a bright, albeit misplaced, smile stretched across his face. Peter snuck up behind him and swept him up in his arms, spinning around in circles.
"Stop!" The boy giggled. "I'm gonna be sick!"
At last Peter released him. Rumpel turned, allowing Peter to see his friend's beam. Before it faltered suddenly.
"What's this?" He asked, gingerly tracing the small bruise on Peter's nose.
"Nothing." Peter wiped his hand away with a smile. "Ran into a tree believe it or not."
The boy laughed before suddenly growing serious, sticking his hand into his pocket. "Look." He pulled out his closed fist and held it out for Peter to see. When he uncurled his fingers, Peter's heart jumped.
"Where'd you get that?" Peter asked hastily, eyes glued to the magic bean laying in Rumpel's palm.
"The women taking care of me. They said we could use it to get away from here."
Peter's luck could not have been any greater. He didn't know who these women were- or how on earth they got their hands on such an item- but he was beyond caring. There was just one thought that brought his mind to a jarring halt.
"And by we you mean?"
"They meant just you and me... but I can't leave my father."
"He does more damage than good Rumpel, you can't cling to him forever-"
"I'm not leaving without him." Rumpel said bluntly, trapping the bean in his grip once more. Peter sighed. The pair of them were as stubborn as each other and Peter knew there would be no persuading him.
"Rumpel," The small boy looked up from his fist, eyes seeming angry but sadness lurked within. "You're my friend. My best friend. If you want him to come with us, that's entirely your choice and I'll accept that."
Rumpel's steely glare softened. "Thank you." He gave a toothy smile.
"Let me get him though. He'll be at the pub and it was wrong of me to take you in there yesterday."
"Okay." The boy nodded. "I trust you."
Peter swallowed nervously, trying not to let his guilt show. "I'll see you back at the house. And you take care of that thing, alright?"
Throwing a wave over his shoulder, Peter jogged deeper into the town, pushing through the crowds. What was he going to tell Rumpel? Would the boy believe him if he said Malcolm didn't want to come? Unfortunately not. Rumpel would seek out his father instead and plead for him to come with them. What should he do...
The idea rammed into him like a horse, bringing him to a stop.
There was only one thing that could be done. The only question being whether he was strong enough to do it.
The certainty in Peter's answer, was almost frightening. After all he had been through, there was no doubt about it. There were no limits as to what he would do to give himself and Rumpel a new life. And Rumpel never needed to know.
He would wait. Until the last shreds of light had vanished. Nobody would be suspicious once they caught a whiff of the reek of alcohol. Nobody would have any reason to think it was anything other than a tragic accident. It was unlikely the townsmen would even associate the word 'tragic' with the event. Many despised Malcolm and the only reason he hadn't been beaten to death was out of pity for poor Rumpel.
Nobody would investigate. Nobody would care. And as it turned out, not even Peter did. As he stood over the newly made corpse, Peter had two realisations.
The first:
He had murdered.
The second:
He had liked it.
/
"Ah, it's been a long time since I stepped foot on this shore." Peter spoke as the trio clambered from the boat onto the sand.
"You have never ever taken me here." Cassandra complained half-heartedly as she looked around. Nothing particularly exciting to see at the entrance, just sand and rock, but she knew from Peter's descriptions that the inside was much more interesting.
"You never asked." Peter shrugged moving towards the staircase. This was true. There had never been a need to visit the giant hollow skull. Peter had told her the story about how he arrived in Neverland only once. But the one time he did, his explanations were so full of detail with words so well strung together, that she felt as though she had been there by his side. Not only that, during his account Cassandra had not failed to notice his distress. Tightened grip. Eyes flickering about more frequently as he did when he was worried (a rare occurrence). And the slight waver in his voice that usually flowed richly like honey dripping from a pot.
So, she made sure never to bring up the place that haunted him.
"What's that?" Henry chirped as Peter waved his hand over a line he had drawn in the sand. A near-invisible veil drifted upwards from the boundary, reaching up until it blocked off the staircase from the shore.
"It's a protection spell." He responded, stabbing the stick into the soft ground with a thud. "Now let's go. It's time."
Scaling the steps, the air gradually became stale and dense. It wasn't until they reached the cavern that a cool ribbon of air, from the gaping eyes of the skull, danced inside, tickling their skin.
"This is it. The place where you're going to save magic." Peter declared. Cassandra's eyes struggled to take it all in. The vast expanse, grand with the rock ceiling several metres high, was lit mainly by the glow of the tall skull hourglass.
The hourglass that broke her heart. That was Peter's lifeforce draining away. And there was nothing she could do. She wanted to scoop the sand back into the top half- she would happily do so for an eternity if it meant he could live- but no amount of willpower could break that glass.
"Why does it have to be here?" Henry wondered.
"Well, because this is the location from which Neverland's magic emanates." Peter spoke, sounding as if he were a tour guide.
"What's the hourglass for?" Cassandra gaped at Henry, was it not obvious? She thought that, in light of his powerful imagination, he'd be sure to deduce the purpose of the structure with ease. Evidently not.
"It marks how much time we have left before Neverland's magic runs out."
"It's almost empty." Cassandra refrained from scoffing at Henry's insightful observations. "Is something wrong?" It was then that Cassandra too spotted that Peter had gone quiet, in a trance of sorts.
"No. Come with me." The boy smiled. He ushered Henry to one of the small bubbles in the rock walls, tucking the boy away where he could neither hear nor see the main cavern. "There's something we need to take care of before we get started, okay?"
Henry nodded and Peter returned to the large dome where Cassandra was still waiting.
"What is it?" She whispered.
"Rumpel." Peter stopped as he reached her side, his fingers sliding between hers. "This has been a long time coming."
Cautious footsteps sounded from the staircase and Cassandra stiffened. Rumpelstiltskin emerged, a cold, intimidating look on his face. However, his eyes betrayed him. Fear peeked out from between his lids. He eyed the pair of them, lips curling into a snarl.
"Hello, Rumpel." Peter grinned beckoning him over with his free arm. "Oh, I see you've come bearing gifts."
Squinting, Cassandra saw the small metal box clutched tightly in Rumpelstiltskin's iron grip.
"Where's Henry?" The man growled.
"That would spoil the game, now wouldn't it?" Peter winked, further agitating him. "I'm more interested to know why you haven't told the others about our past."
"I told them you killed my father. That's all they need to know." Rumpel spat. He turned to Cassandra. "I assume he's told you his version of the tale?"
"He told me the truth." Her voice was firm and steady.
"Oh, I really doubt that."
"A truth is a truth, regardless of who tells it." She replied simply.
"I'm afraid that logic only stands, when the teller isn't a scheming lying coward."
"Come Rumpel, don't lie to yourself. We both know if that's how you saw me, I'd already be in that box."
"You don't think I can do it?" He asked bewildered. "You let me inside just to- what- taunt me?"
"No. To see you again, to give you one last chance." All trace of jest was gone from Peter's face. "Stay with me. Let this go. Let's start over."
"Do you think I want to be with you? That I could ever forgive you after what you did?"
"I never wanted to hurt you Rumpel. You were my friend."
"I think that if that were true, I'd have seen my father grow to old age."
"He was a drunkard Rumpel! He wouldn't be there for you forever, it was only a matter of time!" Peter shouted, the tug at his hand being the only thing that kept him from lunging forward.
"So, you finally admit it... what you did?"
"I was doing what he had the chance to do time and time again… give you your best chance."
"That's what you think. But we both know time is a curious thing. How much it can change a person; how much it could have changed him. If only you'd given him the chance."
"Rumpel," Peter's tone was now soft and gentle, revealing a sense of vulnerability. "You're right. I was rash and impulsive. I've seen how what I did affected you, if I could go back and change it, I would. Now, you know better than anyone how important second chances are. Please, give me mine."
Rumpel considered Peter for a moment, absorbing all he had said. "Some aren't entitled to such luxuries. Cassandra," At the sound of her name, the girl snapped to attention from her passive state of observation. "How many do you think he deserves?"
Cassandra was taken aback. How many second chances? A question too large for one to answer. She tried to think. How many times could Peter break her heart before the pieces were too small to put back together? There were two answers: one being a countable, finite number; the other, infinitely many chances. Neither was pleasant. Finite suggested her love was limited, dependent on time. Infinite chances suggested all their relationship would ever be was an endless cycle of Peter toying with her emotions and Cassandra willingly allowing it.
"Enough Rumpel." Peter said firmly. "Aren't you tired of this feud? Let's put this behind us, let's end this."
"Yes. Let's." Waving his hand over the box, Rumpel's smirk folded into a frown. "I don't understand."
"'Cause you don't have it." Peter brought a matching box from behind his back.
Rumpel's face dropped in despair. "You switched them?"
"Still having trouble believing. In Neverland, all you have to do is think of something to have it." He declared. "Even something fake. But the real one... Well, let's see what it can do."
"No!" Rumpel yelled reaching out to stop Peter, voice full of anguish. Peter waved his hand over the box and it began to click as the cogs inside it moved. Cassandra winced as red mist bellowed around the 'invincible' Dark One.
"I'm sorry, Rumpel. You had your chance. The choice was yours." The mist floated back into the box, taking Rumpelstiltskin with it. Peter looked up from the box to the blonde standing quietly beside him. "Let's go get Henry." He spoke, squeezing her hand.
/
"H-he's not coming?" Rumpel asked, tone overflowing with heartbreak. Peter had arrived back at the house when Rumpel spotted him from the window and raced outside to meet him.
"Sadly no." Peter placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "I tried- spent hours trying to convince him... but he wouldn't have any of it. I'm sorry Rumpel." He wiped at his false tears.
Instead of receiving a gush of reassurances, Rumpel grabbed Peter's raised wrist harshly.
"What's that?" He asked, voice low and... was that anger?
Peter stopped rubbing at his face. He blinked at Rumpel, dumbfounded. The boy used his other hand to shove Peter's sleeve to his elbow.
"That." He growled, shocking the older boy once more. Glancing to where Rumpel was referencing, Peter felt panic slip through his mask.
"My nose was bleeding earlier remember." He quickly explained the blood smeared from his wrist to his elbow. "It must have got onto my hand- dripped down my sleeve." He tried to pull his arm away, but Rumpel simply gripped harder.
"That blood's fresh. Your nose stopped bleeding hours ago." As if the wind had been knocked out of him, Rumpel let go. Tiny indentations left on Peter's skin from his nails. "What did you do?" Rumpel looked up to his friend, terror in his eyes.
If there was one thing Peter had always been good at, it was stories. Telling them. Twisting them. Creating them. He calmly reached at ideas within his mind, sewing together a suitable tale.
"Rumpel." Peter said, filled with melancholy. "I didn't want to tell you this, but there's something you should know." He took a deep breath and signalled to the stain on his forearm. "Malcolm did that. He attacked me when I mentioned the idea of leaving. And that's not the first time. Earlier, well... it wasn't a tree that got me." He gave a wry chuckle, pointing at the purple splodges coating his nose. "I'm just glad it wasn't you he hit."
He looked up into Rumpel's eyes, expecting to see a multitude of Rumpel-like emotions passing through his eyes: sympathy, confusion, hurt, sadness, betrayal.
And that's what he saw. But it was only once Rumpel had spoken that he realised who those emotions were aimed at.
"You... killed... him... " Tears began to flow down his cheeks. "Didn't you!" He screamed.
"R-Rumpel." Peter stuttered, gobsmacked. He couldn't believe it. Rumpel was smarter than he gave him credit for. "We don't have time for this, he might try and stop us from leaving, keep us here with him. We have to leave. Now."
"No! I'm not going anywhere with you! I'll never let you have it." He dug his hand into his pocket and his face immediately fell. "I-I don't-"
"I told you to take good care of it." Peter sighed and raised his hand, between his thumb and index finger rested the magic bean. "I'm sorry Rumpel. But like I said, we need to go." He pelted the bean at the ground, Rumpel's shrill screech drowned out by the sound of the portal opening.
A swirl of green began devouring the ground in a vicious spiral. Peter grabbed Rumpel's hand and tugged him towards it.
"I. Said. No!" He screamed, kicking and flailing until Peter's hold loosened. He wasted no time, sprinting off into the trees before Peter had a chance to grab him. Eyes darting between the disappearing figure, and the gradually closing portal, Peter chose quickly.
Closing his eyes, he jumped into the portal, the swirling emerald shutting behind him.
/
"It's time, Henry. Time to save magic, to save Neverland."
"What do I have to do?" It was clear, by Henry's tone, that he had accepted the responsibility placed upon him.
"You must give me your heart, Henry... the heart of the truest believer."
"You mean... I have to believe." Henry corrected Peter awkwardly. Cassandra bit her lip.
"No, Henry." She exhaled and took hold of her brother's hands. "He means... you need to give him your heart." She stared into his eyes, watching the naivety turn to understanding, like a thick fog rolling over the shore.
"But... what will happen to me?" His voice cracked with nerves.
"Well, you'll become the greatest of all heroes." Peter exclaimed triumphantly. Henry released Cassandra's hands, forming fists at his sides.
"You can tell me the truth. I know all magic comes with a price." The sudden shift in Henry's attitude. No longer appearing anxious or panicked. He seemed... grown up. "Saving it must come with a price, too."
Peter sighed, frowning in mock surrender. "I would never lie to you, Henry. I mean, you're right. There is a price." Raising a brow, Cassandra listened with intrigue. Surely, Peter wouldn't be so honest with Henry. "You have to stay here, on the island with me." Of course he wouldn't. Cassandra's posture slumped. "Neverland will become your new home. I know it's a huge sacrifice, but isn't it worth it?"
"Heroes have to make sacrifices all the time. My family taught me that." A strong, reassuring smile bloomed on Henry's face.
"Then they'd be proud if they could see you now, because you're about to save them all. Now are you ready?"
"Yes." Henry replied at the same time Cassandra screamed 'NO!' inside her head.
"Then let me help you." Gripping Henry's wrist, Peter waved his other hand over the boy's palm, causing it to glow an orange-red. The child stared at his hand in awe. Glancing up at Peter for confirmation, he plunged his hand into his chest. A squishing sound arose as Henry grabbed at his heart and yanked it from his body. The pulsing object glowed a vibrant red. Cassandra had not seen many hearts in her lifetime, but she knew as she observed the one before her, that there were none as bright as Henry's. Cassandra felt sick. She wanted to stop this. The small, gullible child readied himself to push the organ into where Peter's own resided...
"Henry, wait!" Cassandra's heart leapt with relief as her father's voice echoed around them. Henry's hand froze. Three heads shot up from a thumping heart to see three adults sprinting into the cave. "Whatever Pan's telling you to do, don't do it."
"Dad? You're alive?" Henry asked wide-eyed.
"I am, buddy. And I need you to listen to me. Pan is lying to you."
"Oh, pleasure to see you, too, Baelfire, not to mention the Saviour," Peter grimaced. "And the Evil Queen."
"Henry, you need to get away from him now. He's trying to hurt you." Emma told her son.
"No. The heart of the truest believer. It's what's gonna save magic. It's gonna save all of you."
"No, it's not." Regina tried to explain. "This was never about magic, Henry. You have to believe us. The only person Pan's interested in saving, is himself.
"That's not true!"
"Of course it isn't." Peter snapped.
"Yes, it is! Pan can't live without you dying. If you give him your heart, it's gonna kill you." Neal argued, refraining from letting the panic he must be feeling show in his voice. He had only just found out he had a son. Now he was about to lose him. Cassandra pinched herself, was that empathy?
"They're trying to stem your belief, Henry. But don't let them. Remember," Peter clutched at the boy's shoulder. "Every hero gets tested."
It was clear Henry was starting to seem unsure. He licked his dry lips and looked down at the heart nervously.
"Henry..." The calm voice of Emma Swan broke the silence. "I know what being a hero looks like, and this isn't it."
"Why would they lie?" Henry asked earnestly.
"Because that's what adults do, Henry." Peter reasoned. "You know that better than anyone."
"Henry," Regina rushed, the mayhem in her head leaking through. "You have to believe us!"
"Your parents don't care about Neverland, Henry. They know if you give your heart to save it, then you'll have to stay." Peter moved to Henry's side, looking at the grown-ups with disgust. "They're being selfish because they don't want to lose you."
"Henry, you have to trust us." Emma spoke softly.
"Trust! I'm the only one who's ever been honest with you, Henry-"
"Quiet!" The bickering fell silent. "Just keep quiet, all of you." Henry took a deep breath, thoughts whirring chaotically behind his eyes. Then, they slowed as they clutched at an idea. Henry turned to the blonde who had been watching the back-and-forth arguments in silence.
"Andie." Though his voice was gentle, the girl could tell how anxious he was. "You know what it's like, not knowing the truth, not knowing who to trust... what should I do?" He motioned to the heart thumping in his hand.
Cassandra blinked. She couldn't believe it. She had wished she could have a say in Henry's fate. And for once, her wish had come true. She glanced to Emma, Neal and Regina, the people who looked at Henry with a kind of love she'd never experienced. They stared back at Cassandra. In their eyes... they were begging her, begging her to do the right thing.
Then her eyes flickered to Peter. That steely look on his face. He thought he knew who she'd choose. However, his confidence was ebbing away with every second she didn't respond.
The girl shut her eyes. She became more aware of her surroundings; of those waiting for her judgement; of the tension pouring into the stale, empty air. More importantly, she became more aware of the conflictions inside herself...
No matter what her gut screamed for her to do, her selfish heart stomped down on the sliver of conscience she possessed. Henry had given her the worst thing he could have. A choice. A choice with no right answer. She had wanted to save Henry. And only now, with the power to do just that, she realised the kind of person she really was... and always would be.
A naïve, lovesick fool.
"Please. Tell me." Henry pleaded. "Should I do this?"
Eyes flew open, and slowly, Cassandra gave a single nod.
And then chaos ensued.
"No, no, no, no!" Three voices cried.
"I'm sorry." Their little boy apologised.
"No!" They cried out again, but it was too late. Cassandra cringed as she heard the squelch of the heart enter Peter's chest. She tried to ready herself for the blast of magic she knew would come. The force blasted outwards from Peter, knocking her to the rough stone floor.
"Henry!" The pain of parents who had just watched their son die. It was louder than a hurricane. Drilling into your ears. Pain so thick you could feel it like a knife to your chest.
Cassandra pushed herself to her feet and looked down at her brother. Lifeless on the cold, hard rock.
And, although nobody saw, her eyes glossed over with a veil of tears.
The choice was hers.
And she had chosen.