Sorry for the delay. Trouble with baby goats. Bah.
Ahhhh. Okay, so after watching the Season Finale, I realize that this is probably not canon anymore, since "Peter Pan" has been turned into some creepy shadow thing and the Lost Boys aren't even lost boys. I mean, come on, Eddie and Adam! Get it right.
Bahh. Okay, that's my rant. Now's for the story. By the way, I SOOOOO appreciate all your guys reviews, they totally make my day, I eat them up like chocolate over here. I kind of do an embarrassing little dance on my tiptoes whenever I get one. :)
And yes, I named one of the lost boys Rufio, after the kid from the movie Hookplayed by Dante Basco (I couldn't resist, I adore Dante).
Sooo… without further ado. Chapter 4.
Emma stared at the young man before her, her jaw slack.
"Peter… Pan. As in… Peter Pan?"
He grinned at her, sporting startling white teeth. "Unless you know of another who goes by that name, yes, that is I." He gave her a second grand bow. "At your service, madam."
Emma blinked, slowly. "But, I mean… you're not… You're a kid. You're supposed to be a kid."
He arced an eyebrow at her. "Am I not? I've not yet reached my twentieth year." At this he gave her a cheeky kind of smile, his gaze traveling down her again in a way that made her instantly wary. "And I assure you, I never will."
Emma tried to get down from hammock, swinging her feet over the side of the taut animal skin. Her head swirled, and she almost toppled. Before she could blink, he was at her side, supporting her with a strong hand under her elbow.
"Whoa there," he admonished. "Take it easy. Don't try to rush it."
"Gosh," Emma groaned, reaching up to press the heel of her hand against her eyelids. Stars rippled against her vision. "What did you give me?"
"Nothing that won't wear off after a hearty drink and some food in your stomach. Come on." He half-lifted her from the hammock, setting her feet gently on the soft ground. "I'll introduce you to the boys. They'll love you."
Emma grimaced, rubbing the back of her neck where it was still sore from cracking her head against the ground when they'd knocked her out. "They've sure got a fine way of showing love around here."
Pan laughed. She allowed him to lead her out of the dugout and into a spacious cavern. Torches rimmed the earthen walls, tossing flickering light over everything. A long wooden table stretched the length of the room, at least a half a dozen fur-clad boys crammed around it. Some perched on short wooden stools, slurping soup from little clay bowls, while others stood on the table itself, climbing over the others in an attempt to spoon themselves second helpings. One boy lolled upside-down from the ceiling, his knees hooked over a low-hanging tree root, sipping his supper with expert care.
They all looked up at Emma and Peter's entrance. The boy Emma recognized as the one who'd tossed the magic knockout powder in her face, and she returned his toothy grin with a glare.
"Princess finally awakes!" he crowed. "I'd say sorry for the rude introduction, but actually I'm not sorry 'cuz I love using that stuff. People get the funniest expressions on their faces right before they pass out." He jabbed out a hand. "Name's Rufio. Second in command."
Emma stared at the hand for a moment. Then, pulling away from Peter, she took it. "Emma," she said cautiously.
Another boy, one smaller than Rufio, bounced forward. "Hey! I'm Nibs. You're pretty."
Emma couldn't help but smile at that one. "It's nice to meet you, Nibs. How old are you?"
"I'm ten," he declared proudly.
Ten. Her throat cinched up. Just a year younger than Henry. Stop it, Emma, she told herself. Now is not the time. You'll get back to him. She had to.
She learned their names so fast she was sure she'd lose track. Rufio was the oldest, next to Pan, at twelve. Nibs came second, then Slightly, who was ten as well. Next came Curly, a round little fellow with two front teeth that stuck out past his lower lip. He was nine. Then came the Twins, Binky and Marmaduke, who were eight. The last name she absorbed before she gave up was Tootles, the youngest, a cute kid with a red nose and freckles spattering his mud stained face. Her head was spinning with all the new introductions by the time Peter steered her over to the table.
"All right, that's enough from the lot of you. Let's not swarm our guest when she needs to eat." He made a shooing motion with his hand, and the crowd of little people scurried away. "Now git, all of you! Nibs, see to the riggings at the front of the tree, will you? And Curly, set up those traps. Can't have our pirate getting away from us now."
Emma watched them scamper off, her mind in a whirl. Then Peter looked back at her, obviously expecting her to say something.
"So. You're all… you know. Real."
He laughed, and pushed a plate of what looked like roasted legs of some small animal toward her.
"As real as that pirate friend you came with," he replied. Emma realized the friendly gleam of his blue eyes had disappeared, replaced with something darker… and a bit unsettling. "Care to tell me where he ran off to?"
She was saved from answering by Nibs swinging down from a low-hanging root and snatching up a leg from her plate, making off with it before Peter could make a swat at his backside.
"Perhaps you should eat first," he said darkly. "Before these animals spirit away the rest of your food. We can discuss the whereabouts of your friend later."
Emma sank gratefully down onto the stool as he sauntered away, her eyes following him until he left the dining cavern. She swallowed. She couldn't tell them about Hook. If she could count on anything from the storybooks being real, the rivalry between the pirates and Peter Pan definitely was.
"You going to eat that?"
She looked down to see Tootles at her elbow, peering up at her with huge green eyes. Emma handed him one of the legs. He beamed at her, his freckles disappearing into adorable dimples, and perched on the stool next to her to inhale the food.
"How old are you?" Emma couldn't help but ask.
"Me?" He seemed to think for a moment. "Two-hundred-and-seventy-one." He grinned at her astonished expression. "I've been with Pan the longest. But you could call me seven."
"Two hundred and…" Emma stared at him. "Well—how old is Peter?"
"Oh, we stop counting once we get to three hundred here in Neverland. He stopped counting a long time before I got here."
Emma's head swirled. "So—you… you and the other Lost Boys are from our world. Right?"
Tootles grinned. "Yeah. From all over."
Emma glanced back to the tunnel where Pan had disappeared. "And… Peter? Is he from Earth too?"
"No." Tootles' smile dimmed, a frown taking its place. "No one knows where Peter's from. He went to your land, once. A long time ago. For a girl. But he left."
"The storybooks said that he stayed," Emma said. "That he grew up, became a regular man."
"He stayed for a while. That's when he began to age. He was thirteen or so when he went into your world. Nineteen when he came out. Hasn't aged since."
Emma tried to absorb all this. She jerked a thumb around at the group of Lost Boys lounging around the table, half eyeing her in blatant curiosity, others pretending to focus on their food while they listened. "So… all these kids," she murmured. "They're over a hundred years old."
"Rufio there's the youngest. He's ninety-three."
Rufio glanced up and gave him a dark glare, then resumed eating. "Still the most matured of you lot," he grumbled around a mouthful. "Second in age, second in command. It's how it works."
"I still got more life experience," Tootles shot back. Rufio rolled his eyes, but ignored him. Emma looked between the both of them for a moment, and then turned back to her own food. Her stomach was beginning to protest the amount of time she'd gone without. Picking up the strange dark leg between her fingers, she took a tentative bite, stripping the meat from the bone with her teeth. She grimaced. It had a distinctive gamey taste, but it would give her the energy she needed to get back to Henry.
She finished her meal quickly, with some unrequested help from Tootles, and was about to get up from the table when a light touch at her elbow made her jump out of her skin.
"Sorry," Pan laughed in her ear. "No footsteps, you know."
Emma turned around. "Would it kill you to make some noise before sneaking up on someone?"
Peter just grinned. "But where's the fun in that?"
Taking her by the elbow, he lifted her from the stool and steered her toward the exit of the cavern. His hand found the small of her back and he guided her through the winding tunnel and into blinding sunlight. Emma blinked, shielding her eyes with one arm.
Her eyes took a moment to adjust. They had emerged into a sheltered wooden glen, strewn with dappled light and deep shadow. Emma turned and looked back to see a huge, gnarled hollow tree, draped with twisted rope and leather loops. She blinked. Hangman's Tree, just like from the storybook. She searched the wide base, trying to find the place from which they'd exited—a door of some sort, a hole, trapdoor, anything—but the gnarly bark loomed as opaque as ever.
Peter glided away from her, his feet hardly skimming over the ground, and perched atop a lichen-covered log, his chin on his fist. His blue eyes assessed her, glittering in the eerie half-light. Finally, he swept an arm for her to seat herself on one of the other stumps.
"Now," he said, his voice smooth and conversational, although Emma's liar-senses could detect an underlying menace to it. She shivered involuntarily. He smiled, his teeth gleaming white in the shadows. "Let's talk about your friend."
Hook crested the hill toward the place where he'd left Emma, whistling as he hoisted his catch over his shoulder. Two rabbits had been easily snared in the traps he'd set. He chuckled to himself. He doubted Emma had been so lucky. Her cockiness over her archery skills had been exactly that—overblown and no doubt exaggerated. He doubted she'd be able to put an arrow in a five meter range of a deer.
He reached the top of the hill and set the rabbits down at the base of a tree, looking around for his companion.
"Have any luck?" he called, turning in a slow circle and scanning the trees. A frown darkened his brow, his smug smile fading. "Emma?"
The only sound in the forest was the soft trill of the birds high above. Hook's frown deepened. Forgetting his kill at the foot of the tree, he walked further into the forest, searching the shadows for any sign of a red leather jacket, a flash of blonde hair.
"Blasted girl," he swore under his breath. He stopped and ran a hand back through his hair. Trust her to open him up with soft words and an understanding smile while she wheedled his past from him, then turn tail and ditch him like she had back at the giant's lair. He swore again, more vilely this time. Hadn't he learned his lesson the first time? Pirates did not trust. It was how they stayed alive. And this woman was definitely not to be trusted.
He quickened his pace to a steady jog, sweeping the forest for her prints. He found them soon enough, small boot prints sunk into the soft forest floor. He'd always prided himself on his ability for land tracking. Not many pirates bothered to imbue that skill in their arsenal. Hook knelt beside the footprints, tracing them with a forefinger. She'd stopped here, for a while it looked like. The soft indentations in the soil implied she'd crouched, most likely sighting something with her bow and arrow. So—perhaps the girl had some skill. Whatever. It wouldn't help her now. Not when he caught up to her. He'd show her no mercy this time. Forget finding Henry—he'd put her out for good. One less obstacle in the way of finding his crocodile.
A glitter of light amidst the dirt caught his eye. Tilting his head, Hook leaned forward, reaching out to brush his fingers along the strange pink substance. The soft powder clung to his fingertips, and he drew them back, watching the way the light glinted off the rosy dust. Hook's anger faded.
No. No, she hadn't left him at all. She'd been taken.
He pinched the fine powder between his fingers, rubbing it until it trickled to the ground in a glittering stream. He took a deep, slow breath. Pan. He couldn't be allowed to know of Emma's importance to him. Pan knew all about his hunt for the crocodile. If he discovered that Emma was his enemy pirate's only way of getting back to this Storybrooke world where he could finally get his hook in the neck of that creature… well, Hook didn't want to think about what kind of leverage that would give Pan.
He lurched to his feet, his heart hammering. No. He couldn't let that happen. He had to get her back.
An inexplicable sense of alertness washed through him. The curious sensation that he was being watched. At first, his hand traveled down to the cutlass sheathed at his side, but then his mind snapped to a greater realization. A slow smile spread across his face.
"I know you're there, love," he said, low and clear. Lifting his hands in plain capitulation, for he knew his watcher was armed, he turned on his heel and smiled into the shadows.
"Come on out. We both know playing games will get us nowhere."
The woods were eerily silent for a still moment. Then, gliding soundlessly like a phantom over the forest floor, a figure slipped from the shadows. Muscular, distinct curves, covered teasingly by a slitted rawhide dress. Long, gleaming black hair that fell to her waist. A wicked looking bow with an obsidian-tipped arrow poised in the string. Flashing black eyes that missed nothing, not the twitch of a finger, not a nervous shift of the weight, not the slightest flicker in the gaze.
Pocahontas smiled as she walked forward, keeping the gleaming arrow trained right on his chest.
"Captain Hook. It's been a long time."