AU: In which Peter, Wendy, and several others work at the Daily Mirror in Storybrooke.

pt. 4 Wendy enlists the help of Tink and Felix to publish a story against Pan's authority.

Friday came like a bad headache: painfully with the only relief being a handful of pain pills and a long nap. Not that Wendy had been overwhelmed with a work-load. If fact, she'd barely worked at all.

Each day she came in, Pan would ignore her for the first hour or so until she'd have to get in his way. Then he would say "Oh, you're here again." And give her some pompous task like sharpening every pencil in the stock room or checking to make sure every faucet in the building wasn't dripping.

Most people probably loved a job where they got to sit around and do absolutely nothing but play solitaire on the dinosaur of a computer all damn day, but Wendy found if she didn't take walks around the building every thirty minutes or so, she'd start to go delusional from in-activity. When she did this, Pan had the bloody audacity to scold her for taking too many breaks! Even worse, Sydney was taking the week off to "cater to the Mayor's beck and call" as Pan liked to call it so no one was there to relinquish her from his torture. Not that it would have done any good to have him there anyway. Strangely enough, the few who came in and out of the paper paid her no mind, like she didn't even exist. She was more than certain that it was Pan's doing, but he didn't give her a chance to call him out on it. So she spent the entire week alone, bored, and hating Pan's guts.

When four p.m. hit, it was like Pandora's Box had re-opened and taken back every bad thing it had released. She rushed out of the office, ignoring the snarky comment remark Pan threw after her, and practically raced back to her apartment.

The familiar scent of earl grey and fabric greeted her like a hug, and after locking her door, she threw herself onto the bed, inhaling her scent onto the pillow. Damn what a week! If she had to go back to that Satan-incarnated bastard, she'd claw her eyes out!

She rolled onto her back and gathered enough strength to turn on the little portable radio she had brought from London. It had been her father's and she had to beg to let her take it. She played with the dial a moment and managed to find a broadcast. It would have to do. A low, sleepy voice drawled on about traffic updates and the weather.

"…looks like it's going to be a clear weekend with temps in the high seventies thanks to a high pressure front moving in from the mountains, pushing the clouds out to make way for a beautiful full moon. It will be a perfect night for traveling, for humans and the fireflies that are part of the seasonal migration. This is the first time such a migration has come to Maine in over twenty-five years, a true feat to see for nature enthusiasts…makes for a great story to tell the next generation who may or may not have the chance to see it. Moving to Kemp for sports-"

Wendy shut off the radio and sat up, her head whirling with the information, forming what could be a good story. She smiled, truly smiled, for the first time in a week and grabbed her journal and began writing...

/0/0/0/0/0/0/0/0/

Peter whistled as he left the back entrance part of the building at half-past seven. He usually stayed late at the Mirror on Friday nights to make sure the weekend's editions were a push away from being printed so it was less work for him. He was on his way to Granny's for a drink and then a late night of movie watching with his roommate.

"Pan!"

Peter jumped as Wendy ran up to him, almost slamming into him. "What the Hell?" he hissed as he calmed his racing heart. "The whole point in me sending you home two bloody hours before me is to make sure there was no possible way I'd have to see you for a few glorious days!"

Wendy flinched at his outward dislike for her, but pressed down any negative comment so that her chances of getting her story published would remain favorable.

"I'm sorry for scaring you but I have something I think-"

"You didn't scare me," Pan said, brushing past her, "and I don't care what you have to say. Go away."

Wendy mumbled a very unladylike swear under her breath before taking after him.

"It's a story Pan." She said. "One that I think the people of Storybrooke will greatly enjoy."

"No one is interest in your columns about strange fashion."

Wendy gritted her teeth, one of her hands reaching down to smoothen out her gray and white dress and her grey duck feather jacket that she had paired with red tennis-shoes before pressing on. "There's a firefly migration heading our way, a really big one, and it hads't been here for twenty-five years and-" she paused at the sight of his means of transportation. "You have a moped?"

Pan rolled his eyes as he adjusted his helmet. "I get car sick really easily. Go away." He turned the bike one and began to ease out the alley but once again Wendy got in his way. "Move before I run you over."

Wendy held out her little black journal to him. "Would you at least read what I wrote?"

"How long did it take you to write this?"

Wendy stared at him. "Um, about an hour."

"Exactly." Pan snorted, leaning onto the handlebars. "A good story takes days, sometimes longer. I'd rather kiss Glass than publish some piece of crap you threw together and expect me to publish."

"Fine." Wendy said, willing to relent. "Read it, if you don't like something scratch it and I'll change it."

"You're willing to let me change it?" Pan scoffed. "You obviously don't take pride in your work then."

Wendy sputtered in disbelief. "Would you stop that!"

"Stop what?"

"Mixing my words around! Giving me a solution and then making it seem like I'm the one in the wrong! I'm sick of it and I'm sick of you!"

"Oh!" Pan exclaimed leaning comfortable against the handlebars. "Little bird's got talons."

She slammed her fist on the handlebars. "I didn't come halfway across the country to work as an office assisting jester. I came to write. And today I wrote. For the paper—THE JOB I GETTING PAID TO DO!"

Peter winced as his ears began ring but he blinked it off. "At the moment I'm paying you to stay the Hell away from me until I see you fit for something else."

Wendy shook the little black book in his face, her frustration getting the best of her. "Read the damn story!"

Pan turned on the moped. "No."

"Just read it damn it!"

Pan pressed on gas and sped past her, pressing on brakes when he heard her cry out. He glanced behind his shoulder to see Wendy lying in a puddle of dirty water. He stifled a laugh. "Well Miss Darling, you've certainly given a vivid description on madder than a wet hen!" He slammed his hand onto the handle bars and about laughed himself into the dirt.

Wendy slowly stood up, seething at her drenched hair and dress. Luckily her journal had escaped ruin but she was still pissed.

"You know what Pan," she growled, "Go. Go and spend the rest of your pointless, lonely life making other people miserable because that is all you're ever going to accomplish!" She held her journal high, "I will publish this story, with or without your help, you worthless bastard." She shot around and stormed away, dripping more than just water. "And their duck feathers!"

Pan gripped the handles of his moped, a cold chill running down his spine as a faint rumination scratched at the lining of his brain.

"Get out of the way you useless bastard!"

Pan gasped at the phantom kick to his side, holding back the uneven sobs that threatened to surface. He pushed the memory back into the darkest corners of his mind and pressed hard on the gas, leaving it and Wendy Darling far behind.

Wendy was madder than a wet hen could ever be after leaving the alley. She was soaked through and her rage wasn't enough to will off the quick bouts of wind that September had brought. The warm front had moved in early that morning, but it felt a good twenty degrees cooler now that she was soaked through. She'd probably catch her death by the time she got home, but she'd deal with her own funeral arrangements after she found a way to get her article into the paper.

"Wendy?"

The girl in question turned around to see an unfamiliar woman running up to her.

"Are you okay?" the woman asked, looking her soaked figure up and down.

"I-I'm sorry, have we met?" Wendy inquired.

"Unofficially. I'm Tink Le'Bell. I'm a coffee girl at the paper."

Wendy shook her head, smiling politely. "Sorry, still no."

Tink laughed and then frowned when Wendy sneezed. "Follow me, my apartment's right around the corner."

Sensing no real danger, Wendy followed Tink to her flat which resided on the second floor of an aged but well-standing building.

"Sorry for the mess." She apologized as she got out her key. "I have a date tonight and I cannot decide what to wear." She struggled with the lock for a moment before humming. "Strange, I could have sworn I locked up." She opened the door and then gasped. Wendy froze, getting into fighting mode until Tink started laughing.

Wendy peaked around Tink's shoulder smiled fondly. It was Felix, and he was holding a little flower pot with a green vine-looking plant wrapped around a wooden stick.

"They were out of roses." He said. "But you were always more of bignonia."

Tink sauntered to him and gently took the plant from his hands. "Is this your way of charming me?"

Felix licked his lips. "Is it too old-fashioned to not bring a lady something for a date?"

She shrugged. "I like chivalry. It mixes well with the new-age breaking and entering."

Wendy smiled and the easiness between Tink and Felix. She could tell just by their interactions that they were perfect for each other. They were flirtatious without being downright clingy. It was cute instead of awkward.

A sneeze hit her again and she hated herself for breaking them apart.

"Oh right sorry!" Tink exclaimed as she led Wendy to the next room. "Felix this is Wendy, Wendy, Felix."

"We've met." Felix informed, winking at Wendy. She blushed dangerously and stepped deeper into the room.

Tink moved to her closet and began to rifle through her clothes. Wendy looked around. Tink's bedroom reminded her of a jungle, or perhaps a garden. Her walls and ceiling were white with painted green vines stretching around. Her sheets were a forest green as was the chair and small couch. Her dresser and desk were a dark brown like a tree.

"Wicked room!" Wendy gasped.

"Thanks." Tink said from the closet. "I thought I was going a little far with the green thing, but it grew on me. Ha! Get it? Grew on me, you know like the…vines…"

Wendy smiled politely to show that she didn't think the joke was completely lame.

Tink sighed and pulled a green (duh) garment. "It might be a little long but at least it'll keep you warm while I put your clothes on to wash. You can get cleaned up while I make us some cocoa."

"This is very kind of you Tink." Wendy said as she removed her coat.

"We girls got to stick together." Tink said with a wink.

Wendy could agree with that, especially with the knowledge that people like Pan roamed the earth . She got out of her dirty clothes and stepped into the shower long enough to relish in the hot water for a few moments before changing into the dress Tink had lent her. It was much longer than she was accustomed to, but luckily she and Tink were about the same size around waste and she made due.

She found Felix on the couch when she returned and shyly took the chair across from him after she handed her clothes for her to toss into the washing machine.

"Hi again Felix." Wendy greeted with a blush.

"Good to see you again little bird." Felix grinned, his hand motioning over her attire. "What happened to you?"

"Pan." Wendy growled. Tink froze in the middle of bringing them their drinks and Felix straightened up. Both of them leaned into her.

"He didn't hurt you did he?" Felix asked. Tink's eyes were wide with concerned.

"No." Wendy answered, watching as both of them physically calmed down. "Not in the way you're thinking anyway."

Tink sat the mugs down and sat beside Felix, leaning in. "What happened?"

Wendy got out her journal and opened to the firefly story. "I heard on the radio about this firefly migration that was sweeping through Maine and I thought it would be something the citizens of Storybrooke would enjoy to see but…" Wendy bit her lip and forced back the hurt.

"Didn't think it was worth his precious time?" Tink finished with a growl.

Wendy nodded and watched as Felix gently took her journal and read through her story. "How long did it take you to write this?"

Wendy bit her lip, remembering Pan's harsh words. "About an hour."

Felix nodded. "Not bad. A couple of lines could switched around, but you got some skill." He closed it and handed it back to her. "I'll talk to him, see about posting it tomorrow."

"But then it would come out Sunday and the migration would be over by then!" Wendy exclaimed, hating that she sounded so whiney but not caring at that point. She grabbed one of Tink's pillows and held it to her face. "This really sucks!" she screamed into it.

Felix chuckled, but he really felt bad for Wendy. She was a gifted kid who got the wrong end of luck, that wrong end being Pan. He knew what an ass his best friend was, and he knew how up the wall he could drive people. Wendy wasn't cracking and it was driving him crazy. That's why he wouldn't post her story. He wanted to hurt her by hurting the thing that meant the most to her. He wanted to break her by any means necessary.

Felix couldn't help but gulp at that. He didn't believe Pan would ever physically hurt Wendy, but he was concerned by the other ways he could.

He turned to Tink for guidance and found her staring thoughtfully out the window.

"Tink?"

She rose, pacing around the table. Suddenly she smiled and pulled the pillow from Wendy's face. "I have an idea!"

Wendy smiled and leaned forward as Tink sat on the table and took hold of Wendy's shoulders. "We're going to publish your story!"

Felix's amused grin vanished and he stared at her green friend. "Um, Tink. Unless we can track down Glass before tomorrow morning or build our own printing office-"

"We don't need that stuff." She turned to Wendy. "We're going to print your story at the paper and we're going to make it front page news!"

Wendy smiled at the possibility but found herself frowning all too quickly. "But we can't get in. I watched Pan lock the place up, there was a security system and everything."

"Well I have the passcode."

"Where?"

A mischievous smile crept on Tink's face as she turned to Felix, blinking her lashes at him dramatically.

He looked at her, then at Wendy, and then back at her, realization hitting him. "Oh Hell no!" he jumped up and headed for the door but Tink was just a step quicker than him and had the exit blocked.

"Come on Felix I know you know the code!"

"Yeah but that's…illegal!"

"It's not bloody breaking and entering if you have a key, or a code in our case! Besides you broke into my apartment tonight, you're not afraid of the law!"

"That was me being romantic, this would be breaking any and every form of trust I have with Pan!"

Tink frowned. She knew if it came to giving the cure for cancer to the universe or tagging along with Pan for one of his strange schemes, he would chose Pan and put the cure in a safe for a rainy day. It wasn't that Felix was heartless, far from it. He and Pan had a connection she could never understand. It was deep and thicker than blood. It made up their very beings. Neither one of them could function without the other. If one of them were to die, Heaven forbid, the other would follow close behind. They were a part of each other, one piece of a very dynamic puzzle.

"Look, if you just give me the code I'll tell Pan I got you drunk and forced it out of you or something. He'll never know you were involved."

"Tink, you've known Pan just as long as I have. You know he can smell lies! He smells fear and lies Tink!"

"Okay I can agree with all of that, but he'll forgive you. He always does. I still not convinced you two have some kind of bromance going on when I'm not around."

Something close to a blush crept onto Felix's face, but he quickly shook it away. "Don't change the subject Tink. I'm not doing it and that's final!"

Wendy sighed and looked out the window as the two fought. "That's final young lady!" Wendy mocked under her breath. "He's sounds like my father." It was that thought that gave Wendy an idea. George Darling was a difficult man to get along with, but still a bit of pushover like any father. All it ever took was a "George Dear" or a "Please Daddy?" from his wife or daughter to get the stone-cold bank clerk to crumble. He would do anything to make his girls happy. If Wendy was lucky, Felix would be the same.

She sighed loudly, getting the arguing couple's attention. "Stop fighting you two." She stood, placing her mug gently on the table. "I understand why Felix, and I wouldn't dare hold it against you. You're obviously close to Pan and I wouldn't dare make you chose a stranger over a friend. I'll stop by and get my clothes tomorrow Tink. Thanks for the help."

Tink nodded and watched as Wendy slowly headed for the door. She was up to something.

Wendy took her time walking. She was anticipating for Felix to crack from guilt, however, with her hand on the knob she feared she might have underestimated his loyalty to Pan. Her optimism began to fade fast as she opened the door. Just as she was about to decide on a window or an aisle seat, a hand slammed against the wall beside the door, stopping Wendy. She suppressed a grin and turned her best pout, puppy eyes and all, to the grimacing Felix.

"I am going to regret this to my dying day." He looked back at Tink "Put your coat on dear, we're going out."

Wendy squealed and jumped on Felix, squeezing him tightly. "Thank you thank you thank you!"

"Uh…huh…" he gasped as he pried Wendy's constricting grasp. As soon as he caught his breath he gave her a compromising look. "I was not involved, got it?"

"Aye, Captain."

"I was here all night, with Tink, playing Yahtzee or something, okay?"

Tink came up beside him and kissed him on the cheek. "I'm more of a fan of Twister myself. Let's go."

Wendy winked at Tink as they scurried to the car, Felix dragging himself after them. Despite the fresh feeling he got for helping the girls (and the coded promise for loving later on), he couldn't compress the feeling of doom for what he had to do to Pan. There was no way he would forgive him for helping Wendy, a girl he claimed that he hated. And worst of all, there was no way he would ever trust Felix again. That alone would break him. If he lost his relationship with Pan, he'd lose everything else.

"I am dead on so many levels."

I'm cutting this into 2 parts as to not overwhelm my lovely readers! The next half will be out by Sunday, here's hoping!