Chapter 45: Starry Rift
ELLE'S POV
"Peter, I can save you, all of you," Elle pleaded, just barely getting the breath to form the words. Her fingers squeezed his, they were so cold, and limp. He didn't seem to hear her, Peter's normally bright, glittering brown eyes were dull and glassy, unfocused. No, no. Desperately, she kept talking, kept begging him. "You said I'm powerful, that my heart can work. You, my brothers, this place is my home, please don't let me lose you."
He was leaving. Peter's fingers were limp in hers, his chest didn't even stir under her palm. His brown eyes were open, watching her and not seeing her, dull and blank and empty. Those empty eyes terrified her, Elle felt screams claw at her throat but they didn't leave, she wanted to run away across the island and over the ocean and through several different realms. But she couldn't move. She was too weak and exhausted, and she didn't want to.
She readjusted, grunting with the effort it took to fold her legs in front of her, and tugged Peter's shoulders into her lap, holding onto him while her eyes burned. Elle couldn't remember the last time she cried, surely not since she was a child. She didn't cry now. Her throat was swollen shut, her body felt limp and as helpless as fallen leaves as she cast out her mind, feeling the island. It was dying so fast, its magic no longer strong and humming around her, but crumbling and fading and crashing, suffocating her and dragging her with it. Peter's aura…was gone. Not even a trace, either slipping away with Neverland before she could remember, or because he was gone. Peter left.
A hand hesitantly touched her shoulder, left quickly, then returned and stayed. For the first time, Elle realized others were in the cave. She looked up, meeting Emma's dark green eyes. Behind her stood Baelfire, Regina, and the pirate—Hook. Each brow was frowning, all eyes holding some mixture of sadness and bewilderment. The utter lack of anger, or pride, would have shocked Elle, and should have, but she didn't care. Just turning her head to look up at them had cost her energy she didn't know she had, and the room was tilting slightly.
"I—" Emma started. Her lips stayed parted, but no sound came out. After a moment, she sighed and looked away, keeping her hand on Elle's shoulder.
"I'm sorry," Hook murmured, his voice low and thick from somewhere behind Elle.
It was silent for a beat. "The consequences were," a new, somewhat grudging, voice mumbled, "unfortunate." Regina sounded awkward and somewhat forced. Elle didn't care, she could say nothing if she wanted.
"Elle," Emma's voice was hesitant. "I—um, I—I'm sorry, but…but I had to save my son." She sounded a bit scared. Elle didn't want to speak, she just wanted them to go away and let her hold onto Peter.
"I don't blame you," her voice sounded fuzzy, and it scraped her throat. "Your actions were right."
"We were thinking, if you wanted…" Emma spoke again, but Elle was consumed by the boy. His face was so still, eyes still open and blank and haunting. His skin was pale and he felt so cold and still in her lap. He'd never been still, never could be. Peter's eyes were always bright and piercing and flitting around, taking in everything even on an island he'd spent centuries on. Peter had always been warm, the few times he'd even gotten close enough for her to feel the heat and magic and life radiating off of him. This was wrong. So, so wrong. And Elle was utterly powerless, feeling as lifeless as he looked. But her eyes weren't empty.
Something snapped, because her face was wet and her vision was blurry and her eyes were warm. Her throat was growing raspy and she couldn't draw a full breathe. Emma's hand hadn't left her shoulder. It had tightened, and a larger, warmer hand was on her other. When it had joined, she didn't know but the feeling made Elle clutch the boy tighter to her.
Someone was muttering, pleading, voice thick and broken and pitiful, "there has to be something…please, come back…something to make him come back…this is wrong…has to be…"
Maybe there was.
But you cannot make true love. Too powerful. Oh, and true love will undo most curses. He'd scowled when he said it, and Elle had been confused because she had always found it rather incredible how any ordinary person could create that kind of magic.
Elle didn't quite have time to process how still and cold his lips were under hers before magic sparked, sharply and violently and fleetingly. She pulled back in surprise, heart tripping over itself, and she didn't dare breathe as Peter's pale, bluish lips became tinted, as if looking at them through stained glass. Red stained glass. Elle's heart stopped.
And then her vision became fuzzy and she felt her body shake with effort. Leaning back into the hands at her shoulders, Elle gasped for breath and choked as the color faded again from his face.
"What happened?" she heard murmuring form behind her.
"She's not strong enough," someone said deliberately.
Weight settled in Elle's stomach, and her bones felt replaced by steel. Regina was wrong. Something was wrong with Elle, she couldn't feel her magic and she was so…so exhausted all the time. Like it was being suffocated, and she didn't think it was the island. Closing her eyes, focusing on only herself and the dead boy on her legs, Elle summoned every last bit of magic she'd ever held.
She summoned the horror as her child self had been taken away, never to see her family or even step outside again. The happiness at being on Neverland, surrounded by a new family and free to walk and do as she pleased. She could use her magic now, and it filled her with joy. Elle focused. The freedom, the exhilaration, all because of the Peter Pan in front of her. She felt heat searing her arms and legs and scalp as her magic slowly trickled into her. She didn't know where from. There was more emotion, she could summon more. The terror at being caught by Rumplestiltskin and by Hook. The horror at what Pan forced her to do, and the heartbreak and fear and fury along with it. All because of the dead Peter Pan.
Finally, she felt the warmth and power pooling in her palms, and a white light seeped through her eyelids. She opened her eyes and felt a grin tug at her. Two legs were slightly above the light, leading up to a torso and chest and face hidden by a hood and messy blonde hair. She grinned at Felix, but he was still. And the warmth began to cool, the light was dimming fast.
She needed something stronger. Elle was going to save Peter Pan, or die with him, but she needed to get this magic, this energy to him. Magic, especially hers, was fueled by emotion, by truth. "The truest part of any person," she murmured, then twisted and faced the grown-ups. They'd all backed away, looking at her with wide eyes. Elle didn't have time, her own vision was growing blurry as she gasped for breath and energy. She was draining herself. Her eyes found the cold, guarded dark brown of Regina, and stayed there.
"Please," her hoarse voice caught and scratched at her throat. "I can't reach," she coughed, "all of my magic." Elle redirected it from her hands, letting it sink into her skin and through her blood, pooling in her chest. She held it there, body rigid. "I need my," she tried to take a deep breath, "heart."
Regina's eyes widened, but softened. Elle could see her legs and shoulders trembling as she stepped slowly forward, reaching out as though not fully knowing what she was doing. Her elegant fingers soon pierced through Elle's chest and gripped her heart, and every grain of magic Elle could summon. Elle screamed as she pulled it out, and felt herself fall forward beside his body. Her elbows caught her, but she pressed her forehead into the cool, dusty ground, shaking uncontrollably. Her arms just wanted to relax, let her fall, let her choke on a mouthful of dirt. She felt no fear, no sadness, no anger, no love. Just pain and exhaustion. And a warmth, coming from just in front of her.
Tilting her face up through the dirt, her own heart shone in Regina's hands. Elle stared, as silent and open-mouthed as the grown-ups and—probably—Felix. It was deep red, but hundreds of tendrils of gold and pink and white blinked with each shaky beat. Her heart was so bright, yet Elle had barely the energy to continue looking at it.
Ignoring her screaming arms and stomach and legs, Elle pushed herself to her knees, and then, when Felix stepped and wrapped an arm around her waist, to her feet. She stood, leaning on him, her own heart and magic in her hands.
"Elle, what are you doing?" Felix demanded, voice harsh, squeezing her to look at him. Cradling her heart to her stomach, Elle pressed her hand and forearm against his chest, staring straight into his hard eyes. With a choked sob and gasp, Elle pushed herself off of him, twisting herself so that, when she stumbled from the movement and loss of support, she fell to her knees with her fingers splayed on the hourglass.
She thought she would have to push more, somehow find an impossible leftover bit of magic or strength to break the glass. But she didn't. it fell away into tiny, jagged pieces as soon as she touched it. Elle fell into the rushing pile of golden sand as it spread out onto the cave floor. She didn't even mean to break it. Crawling forward, Elle knew she was in the middle when she felt the thin, weak trickle of sand run through her tangled hair.
She heard yelling, it sounded like Felix. She didn't remember ever hearing Felix yell like that, so angry and desperate…the thought was far away…she heard other voices behind her, and wondered why, if everyone was so upset, why no one came near her…Elle couldn't see anymore, just a faint glow of gold against darkness.
Her heart must have dropped, because she didn't feel the warmth of it against her anymore and both her hands were pressed into the sand. They weren't keeping her up, but the sand was soft and…and…
Long, thin arms wrapped around her, but Elle couldn't see because everything was so dark. The softness left, and she felt cold and something scratchy was against the entire side of her body. Then that was gone too, just hardness on her back…her body…she should move, but Elle couldn't hold onto the thought long enough to even try. She was too tired, and she was cold and she couldn't see. Yet, she wasn't scared. And then, she wasn't tired. And she wasn't scared anymore, either.
EMMA'S POV
Emma couldn't step on the sand, she just couldn't! What was wrong! She tried, but was thrown up and flipped back just as she had been at the entrance of Skull Rock. But neither could Felix, or Hook, or Neal or even Regina. So, she gave up, and was just about to turn around when the island began to shake, and she was half-deafened by loud…cracks?
It got all of their attention, except Felix's. The boy only stilled for a moment, not even looking, before going back to trying to get to the girl. Everyone else ran out of the cave and back down to the tiny landing where the boat was. Emma felt her heart skip and then race even faster, and she let out a strangled gasp. She heard a low moan to her side, barely registering the horror on Hook's face.
The island was in pieces. Literally, cracks appeared and large parts were just coming undone, trees falling around and into the gaps. There were multicolored lights hovering just above the trees, which would have been incredible if they weren't fairies, whose screams Emma could still hear. Shrieks, some faint and some as if right outside, tainted the air as mermaids swam either directly away from the island or circled around, trying to find something. She saw the Shadow's form, curled slightly in the sky as he seemed to observe, framed by the moon. His posture betrayed that he didn't seem to understand either. The island was dying, falling apart. Just like the kids in the cave.
"We've got to go," Neal yelled, tugging on her upper arm. Emma nodded but wrenched her arm away. She had no idea why, but she had to go back. Just to see, just to try. The boys on this island…they were still just kids. She hurtled up the stairs and barged into the cave.
"Felix, the island—" she stopped in shock, seeing Felix setting the girl down, out of his arms, next to Pan's body. He'd managed to get to her. Emma ran forward, needing to look at her. From the start, she hadn't been as terrible and messed up as the boys were. She'd been quiet, she'd been taking care of herself. She'd been surviving.
Now, her eyes were closed firmly and her skin was as white as her hair, which wasn't glowing even the slightest bit. Her body was completely limp, lifeless.
"It didn't even work," Felix said quietly, startling Emma out of staring at the girl. He stood still, hands hung low and loose, head down, not even a hint of feral or cunning action. Emma felt a pang in her chest, still just kids.
"The island's falling apart, you boys can come with us," Emma panted, trying to speak as fast as possible so they could leave this hell. "Start over, a new life, with a family maybe, whatever. But we have to go because if you stay you'll die."
His head jerked up to meet her eyes, and his were steel. "I'm not leaving," he said slowly, deliberately. Emma swallowed, squaring her shoulders.
"I'm not asking you to fight or betray Pan anymore," she said, trying to speak his language. "He's dead, gone. And he's not coming back. You, the Lost Boys, you can have lives in our world, which isn't literally falling to pieces," she finished quickly. Talk about too damn loyal, this kid didn't even know what was good for him.
"I have nowhere else to go, I never have and never will," the boy muttered. Emma opened her mouth to retort, but it died in her throat when a flash caught her eye. What the…
"Felix," she groaned through her teeth, both confused and growing more and more anxious by the second. He frowned at her, tilting his head slightly. "The glass was broken."
Felix looked over, and Emma watched his sullen frown melt into one of shock and fear, just like hers. Now things were just getting freaky. But the island was falling apart, a realm was dying. The Enchanted Forest had been messed up too, maybe time broke too. Emma didn't know, and she really didn't want to stick around to find out.
"Well, we're going," she took one step back. He didn't move. She turned, and sprinted down the stairs and climbed into the boat, getting to shore with the others as fast as possible.
Seven minutes later, Emma and Neal were hurrying the nine Lost Boys onto Hook's ship, where her parents, Regina, and Hook were preparing to set sail. The boys kept their heads and shoulder hunched, a few even plastered scowls on. But Emma could tell they were scared, and sad. She didn't even want to know what relationship they had had with Pan, but the girl had obviously been special. She felt pity, walking away from a home and family members—even if wrong or temporary or whatever—hurt like hell.
Finally, Emma climbed on just as a red smoke poured from Regina's hand. Her jaw tightened, not enjoying but ready to fight with her now of all times, when she realized the smoke came from a small object in Regina's hand. And it was gathering in a sort of cylinder, condensing and then clearing to leave Mr. Gold stumbling slightly, gasping in relief.
Emma saw two of the Lost Boys open their mouths to speak, or yell, but they were all cut off by a sudden rush of wind. That was an understatement. It hit Emma from the back, and she went flying two feet before landing on her stomach. And it wasn't wind, she could feel it. It was more, it was solid and hissing with energy and it left her body tingling. It was magic.
She looked up and made eye contact with Regina, and then everything turned white and Emma felt herself scream, joined by other screams and gasps and yells.
But she blinked and she saw Regina again. The two stared at each other, confused beyond belief. "What the hell was that?" she cried.
"I don't know," Regina yelled, gritting her teeth and creating a ball of fire in her hand as she stood quickly. Emma followed, much more clumsily, and held the hand of the sword she still wore.
Spinning around, she saw everyone begin to look at the island. Hook was looking at her, and he gestured vaguely with his hook. Emma turned obediently, too bewildered to demand why, and the air caught in her throat and she choked on it.
The island. It was…fine. No cracks, no falling trees, the sky was lighter, as if at sunrise. The lights of the fairies were hovering still instead of scattering, a few were even slowly descending. The ocean was calm, there was nothing but a light breeze.
Emma could feel the magic, but it was different. It was stronger than she'd felt when they'd arrived. It was like a heartbeat, steady and quiet yet strong. She stood still, absolutely no idea what to even think, as the Lost Boys stampeded off of the ship.
By the time Emma, her parents, Hook, Neal, and Regina were recovered enough to even step off of the ship, the Lost Boys were disappearing into the tree line.
"We should go," David called.
"Aye," Hook breathed, continuing to step forward on the beach.
"But…" Emma tried. He was right, they really should leave. There was no threat for the moment, the Lost Boys were paying absolutely no attention to them, Pan was dead, and they had Henry. This was the safest time to just leave.
She walked forward, side by side with Hook, and heard footsteps follow.
