To answer Guest's question: btw how many more chapters are you planning on doing in the next 5 months or so?
Haha...that's complicated. I have the next 10 chapters for this story mapped out...to an extent.
I kind of knew where this story was going way back when I wrote it, in fact the current arc was as far as I planned out before 3B aired. Years of thinking and maturing have kind of changed a few things around, but the overall idea is still here.
I can't promise a scheduled update unfortunately. The thing about being a journalist is that I have to keep my creative works separate from my factual ones, so my creative juices sometimes currdle under pressure.
But I'm working on P&S constantly, even if it's just a sentence once a week.
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It was like a bizarre book club meeting, except there was no book and the meeting was held at Tink's forest of a living room.
He had found Pan's broken cellphone nearly three days ago, and hadn't seen hide or hair of him since.
He was worried, especially as he saw less and less of Wendy roaming the town looking for him.
No, he wasn't stalking her that would be creepy. He was just watching her from afar, usually behind buildings, in case Pan reappeared by her side.
He was worried about the little shit, even if he'd rather not think about him and what they were—or rather what they had been.
Their relationship was on Pan's terms, as it had been the night August returned to Storybrooke two years ago.
It had been just a glitch on their timeline, a moment in history that would go unrecorded.
He had returned to Storybrooke after the money he pawned from several of his father's tools ran out.
He was tired and sore, not sure whether he was back to ask for forgiveness or to take more from his loving father. His motorcycle was nearly out of gas, his tires shreds of rubber attached to rims.
He hadn't realized the clusterfuck he'd road in on. That Storybrooke was practically on lockdown after Jekyll killed those two girls—and nearly a third, he'd find out later.
And—for his own sanity—Pan was waiting at the town line for the psychopath to return, with the blunt end of his camera at that.
As his head was spinning from being clabbered over the head from the hit, Pan had kicked him onto his back.
"Shit," he had said. "You're not him."
"Lucky for me," August deadpanned, wobbling as he picked himself up. "Want to explain why the hell you did that?"
"Monster hunting," Pan had stated, staring at him suspiciously, offering him no assistance.
It was close to 3 a.m., a completely unreasonable hour for anyone to be running around—travelers or off-their-knocker journalists.
"Yeah," August muttered, grabbing his bike and preparing to head into the town.
"Everything's closed," Pan said. "You're better off sleeping in the woods."
It was none of the little shit's business. In fact it was probably best if he kept his entire being to himself. For he knew his father had taken out a report to the police.
"I'll be fine," he said. "Thanks for not giving me a concussion."
"You might as well come back with me."
The weight of those words still clung to August's brain this very day.
That brutal, flirtatious, broken boy…
"What's this about?
August looked up. Tink, Felix and Lily Tigress were surrounding him, trying to figure as much as he was what the hell was going on.
August stood, feeling the mix of emotions from the people in the room.
"Pan's missing." He said, simply.
The reactions that followed fit everyone perfectly.
Tinkerbell scoffed and rolled her eyes while Felix seemed to melt with fear. Tigress snorted.
"Have you checked all the holes in the city?" she teased.
"And ditches," he replied humorlessly. "He's not anywhere."
"Maybe check in the depths of hell." Tink muttered, flopping down on her couch.
"What happened," Felix inquired, obviously the only other person in the room that had general concern.
"I have no idea," August sighed.
"It's probably nothing!" Tink exclaimed, visibly aggravated. "He's always pulling shit like this, we all know it!" she looked around at everyone, their eyes dropping .
"I don't know this time—" August began before Tink cut him off.
"He's fine! He's off screwing someone or ruining a life. He'll come back and continue as normal."
August blinked hard and reached into his pocket. In a flash he threw Pan's broken, dead cellphone onto Tink's coffee table, an inch away from Tigress's boots.
The occupants of the room stared at the device like it was something that had just fallen from the sky, as if they had no idea what to make of it.
"I found this the other night at the docks," August explained, swallowing a lump. "I've been looking for him ever since. It died a few hours after I found it."
Felix gripped his kneecaps until his fingers turned white. Tigress glanced at him and then at Tink's still shoulders, wishing she could reach into her back and unknot every single one of her muscles.
"It could be an accident," Tink said, her mind numb.
"There's something wrong here, Tink," August said. "Something I don't think we've dealt with before."
Tink nodded slightly. She could accept that this was a bit odd, but she wasn't ready to relent to a search just yet.
"Did you go through the phone, see who he called last?" Felix inquired.
A cold sweat ran down August's back.
"Yeah…it…it was me," he looked straight ahead, trying to avoid Tink's direct gaze. "The night he wrote that story about you."
Tink barely moved, the only indication that she heard August was the darkening of her pupils.
"Last time I saw him was the morning after that when Wendy showed up and…all the other stuff happened."
"Have you talked to her?" Tigress asked. "Why isn't she here?"
August thought about the blonde enigma who spent the better part of two days searching for the wild boy…
And then she stopped…
Not from falling into a fate like Pan's, but rather a strange dark haired man seemed to be gypsying her away from her task.
Maybe she had the same mindset as Tink, that Pan was somewhere safe and sound but avoiding the rest of the world.
Or perhaps she'd finally realized she deserved to use her time the way she wanted and not focus so much on Pan.
When he'd see her in town, her gaze would occasionally stray to the streets and into shops, looking for him without trying.
But she wasn't alone. There was someone else with her, some dark entity that always seemed to be just out of both their line of site.
"She's looking for him," August concluded.
"Have you gone to Graham?"
"No, not yet," he admitted.
Tink smiled bitterly. "There's your answer,"
August leaned forward. "Do you really think Graham is going to take this seriously with Pan's track record?"
"That's the best thing to do!" Tink yelled. "He's not our problem."
"Yeah, he is,"
"No he's fucking not! We have nothing to do with any of this!"
"Yeah we do!"
"He's your little fuck buddy not mine!"
A wave of sand coursed through August's throat, cutting him off.
"Okay, that's enough!" Felix finally jumped in, evenly meeting Tink's glare. "He's right, we have to help."
"Are you kidding me, Felix!" Tink exploded.
"What he did was terrible," Felix injected, putting everything everyone in the room had held in for days now. "But if you turn your back on him and something really is wrong, you'll regret it for the rest of your life. Because he is family, Tink. He's one of us."
He stepped forward, keeping his distance after taking her stiff posture into account.
"And you know he didn't do any of this to hurt you, even if he did,"
Tink scoffed. "I know that. But I'm so sick of him thinking rules don't apply to him and that he's invincible," she paced a bit, thinking about the wild-haired boy to always brought so much chaos into their lives. Who was more trouble than any of them knew what to do with.
"What if he'd been alone that night?" She wondered aloud, knowing firsthand the type of cruelty Mother Superior could enact when pushed too far.
Pan was in trouble, and this time it was more serious than ever of them had ever seen before.
He was usually good at getting himself out of messes and suffering the consequences on his own. But things were different this time. This time he was somewhere none of them could find.
Tink groaned, tucking her anger away for later.
"When was the last day you talked to Wendy?" she sighed in August's direction.
His lip twitched in gratification. "The day she told me Pan was missing."
"Then Lily and I will check with her first." Tink said, voice strong with leadership. "You and Felix check the paper and Graham and all his usual haunts."
Before Felix could ask for more, Tink was out the door.
Lily gave the men a shrug before following her friend, not looking to cause a fight with the fiery blonde.
Felix sighed in relief when they finally left, trying his best to stay calm. Last thing he needed was to fall into a seizure.
"That takes care of that," August teased. "You ready?"
Felix looked over at him, frowning heavily. He had no feeling for August, good or bad. The two didn't see or speak to each other than the few times he left Pan's place.
He wasn't a bad person from what Felix could gather, but he wasn't the best influence on Pan. He was too casual, not interested in settling down.
Adding gasoline to the fire of Pan's soul.
Still, obviously he cared about him enough that he cared if he was missing or not, so some points were warranted.
"We'll need to start with Graham first,"
"Why's that?"
Felix frowned. "I might know the reason he's missing."
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Pan wasn't sure where to target his latest wave of sickness from.
The swaying ship, the dehydration, or the infection building around his numb wrists from the metal cuffs?
He was more than certain he was developing some kind of bladder infection as well.
God he was tired.
Jones hadn't been to see him in a day and a half, or at least that's what he was estimating judging by the light that was coming in thorough the cracks of the ship.
He wondered what he was doing, especially to Wendy. Had he hurt her? Was he torturing her right now to get information out of her?
What did this asshole hope to accomplish keeping him locked up? Why didn't he just off him already?
Or maybe this was it. Maybe he just wanted to kill him slowly.
As he nodded in and out of consciousness, he caught images of the people in his life. Wendy and Felix up front, Tink, August, and Tigress just behind them. Even Glass and Gold, and deeper in the shadows, Belle.
Each time he woke up, they would vanish, and Pan wouldn't remember who he was dreaming about.
The smell of salt was enough to make him vomit now. He was dying, and he was doing so cruelly slow.
Would any of the people he kept seeing in that place between sleep and awake ever know what had happened to him.
Was anyone looking for him?
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The last few days had become sort of a new routine for Wendy. She'd leave her apartment at the crack of dawn and visit Pan's apartment…knocking just in case he'd come home.
But he hadn't, and she'd let herself in and feed his fuzzy orange cat who had yet to be utterly concern about his master's disappearance.
It was comforting feeding the large cat without Pan's interference, she thought. No one to pick fun at her at every opportunity. No one to push her into a corner, away from her safest places.
No one to pick fun at her at every opportunity. No one to push her into a corner, away from her safest places.
It was unsettling, Pan's absence. But there was an odd peace in the air. One that didn't quite fit in Storybrooke's atmosphere, but one that was welcome. If only for a short time.
Each day without the wild boy was like a blurry vacation: you knew each day was passing by but the details were unclear.
And somehow Pan was blurring from her memory as well.
She'd wake up in the dead of night with a glimpse of him in the air above her head.
Then he'd disappear, and she'd fall asleep without concern.
It felt wrong, to brush him off after all they'd been through, even in her sleep.
But there was an odd freedom to letting him go, especially if he didn't want to be found.
She stared at the number on her cell phone glaring back at her, the one she'd called constantly in the last four days.
He doesn't want to be found, she reminded herself. Calling him again would be fruitless.
She knew this, it was imbedded in her brain at this point.
Yet she pressed his number again and listened as his voice mail immediately came up.
It's Pan. Call me back.
No, she decided solemnly, she wouldn't.
"Hi, Pan…it's…it's me again." Wendy chuckled. "I guess you know that by now…"
She paused, knowing if she were quiet for too long she'd have to start over.
She didn't want to start over. She wanted to go forward.
"Look," she sighed. "I can't keep doing this with you. Everyday it's a fight with you and I have no idea why. I don't know what I did the other day to make you leave like that…but you need…"
She paused again.
"Well I don't know what you need o honestly, but it's something you have to figure out for yourself."
She considered hanging up then, but she didn't want to leave him on such a harsh note.
"I really hope you try, Pan, because I don't want to fight with you anymore. After everything, I really want us to be—"
The voicemail beeped, inquiring if she wanted to start over or if she was satisfied with her message.
She didn't want to start over.
So she hung up and headed to the docks.
Killian was there, as he always seemed to be.
Perhaps it was her need for new freedom that silenced the warning bells in her head, that made her drop the walls and inhibitions that had clung to her like a second skin during the last several months.
She approached him without fear, without any type of concern holding her back.
And she didn't question him when he slid a manila folder into his leather coat.
"Is dinner still on the table?" she questioned.
He tilted his head, amused, though his pulse was racing. "I thought lunch was the next step."
Wendy shrugged, stepping a bit closer. "I'm feeling…braver than I did yesterday."
He chuckled, concealing the folder further into his jacket for dear life. "Well then, Miss Wendy Darling, tomorrow night?"
She smiled, relieved. "I'd like that."
He watched her leave, noting the little pep in her step.
Such a lovely girl, he thought, and more malleable than he had originally foreseen. Jones thought he was going to have to push her more to fall into his grip, but it would seem she was finally crumbling.
He made his way back to this ship quickly, opening the folder full of information for his backup plan.
He stepped into his cabin, breaking out his best rum. This was a small victory after all.
Some of the glasses on his counter shook lightly, so little they could almost be missed. Jones rolled his eyes. He'd forgotten to feed his captive again…and water him for that matter.
Whoops.
He still hadn't told him why he'd requested those files, what he was digging for.
Who he was searching for.
And how Miss Darling was involved was still being revealed, but time was running short.
He had been given orders to find out now.
He spread his new leverage across the table, frowning a bit.
The two boys, preteens by the look of it, caught his eye first. He hated targeting kids. It was so pointless.
His eyes traveled to the woman next. He could see bits of Wendy in her, especially in the shape of her eyes. She had the man's jaw however…and his frown, he noticed with amusement.
A tidy little family in danger of meeting the blunt end of his gun.
Hopefully it wouldn't come to that, he decided as he hid the folder. Hopefully, very soon, Wendy would tell him what he wanted to know.
The pipes sang from Pan's struggle again.
He was already a dead man walking, and too tight-lipped to save now.
Feeding time.