I do not own OUAT. Anything recognizable is not mine.

This will be the final book in my 'Not Always Black and White' series. Thanks to everyone who has stuck with it this long!

italics = flashbacks

Enjoy!


Emma gasped as she woke up; the last thing in her memory was getting on the ferry to the Underworld. Looking around, she realized that she was in the drivers' seat of her bug. She glanced around frantically, a shiver running down her spine as the chill hit her, to see that the old car was parked on some sort of dock, the windows covered in condensation from the freezing atmosphere. She was immensely confused.

"Hey, Emma," a voice said, making the blonde jump and turn to the back seat where Neal was sitting up, a grey beanie adorning his head. He looked no different than the day he died, except maybe happier.

Emma gasped in surprise (again). "Neal?" she croaked, tears filling her eyes.

"Yeah," Neal said, giving her a soft smile back.

Giving him a tremulous smile in return, Emma replied, "It's really great to see you. Where are we? Am I dreaming?"

Neal chuckled, looking out the back window with a grin. "No, if this were a dream, there would be like talking doughnuts or something weird like that," he said before opening the door and moving to the passenger seat. "This is just a long distance phone call from an old friend."

Emma was in a state of disbelief. "It's really you?"

Neal nodded. "How's our son?"

Emma gave him a smile, her vision blurring. "Great… He misses his dad. He's growing up."

"I bet," Neal said with a sad smile.

"Is this the Underworld? That was where I was headed with Pan." Emma had to blink when the she said it out loud, hearing just how insane it sounded. Had she been asked last year, she wouldn't have even considered helping the king of Neverland.

"That's why I'm here. Emma, don't go. It isn't an easy place to get out of. I know you want to save Reyna, but trust me. This won't end the way you think."

"I would have come after you. I didn't know this was a possibility until Pan decided to do it."

"I'm not there. I'm not in limbo," Neal said, shaking his head.

"That means Reyna is there! We can get her."

Neal frowned for the first time since Emma woke up. "Yeah, she's there," he said, wincing at the thought of his friend.

"She loved you; you were like a brother to her. Help me. I know the way you helped her and Pan, you care for them. He can split his heart, Regina said it could work."

"The Underworld is for people with unfinished business. That isn't me. That isn't why I'm here."

"Where are you?" Emma asked curiously.

"Someplace," Neal said with a soft smile, his eyes far away as he stared out the windshield. "Someplace where I am happy. I only came here because I care about you, Emma. Stop this before it is too late."

"I can't," Emma said. She loved Reyna like a sister now, and she knew how the loss was affecting Hook. It was her responsibility to return the happy endings, even to Pan. No one deserved to lose their True Love, and Emma could see the differences in Pan, she knew he was changing slowly but surely.

Neal nodded, his face amused and sad at the same time. There was no trace of surprise from her statement. "I figured, but I had to try."

"Neal," Emma breathed.

"I love you, Emma. I always have and I always will," Neal whispered, staring deeply into her eyes. "If you find Reyna, tell her the same for me. Let her know that I forgive her, and thank her for looking out for you and Henry." Leaning over, he kissed her forehead. Taking a deep breath, he pulled away and got out of the car, wiping at his cheeks softly.

"Neal?" Emma called after him sadly, though she felt acceptance and peace. She finally got the closure she needed from him.

Emma woke up panting, finding Regina, Mary-Margaret, and David crouching around her head. Henry was standing behind Regina, looking at his mother worriedly. Hook was holding her hand, staring at her with love and concern. Pan, Felix, and Rumple only spared her a glance, and Robin looked concerned but stayed at a distance. He wasn't as close to Emma as he was to Pan, Hook, David, and Regina.

"Swan!" Hook exclaimed in relief.

"Emma, are you okay?" Mary-Margaret asked.

"Yeah, you passed out," David added.

Emma met Pan's knowing green eyes. He obviously knew what had happened, or at least some idea. His nostrils flared as he turned away, staring at the world that was getting closer by the second, the Underworld. Emma glanced at her loved ones.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Good, because we're here," Gold said, baring his teeth as he glared at Pan.

Charon's ferry slowed to a stop, and Pan led the way from the small dinghy, stepping onto the deck. He didn't look at the green water of the River Styx, nor did he pay any attention to the others as they followed him. His eyes roamed the scenery, his lip curling when he took in the distorted version of Storybrooke. He walked down Main St, or the Underworld version, the sky and fog having a reddish hue. The street was oddly silent as different souls walked down the sidewalk, none of them paying any mind to the living souls amongst them. He slowed as he got to the destroyed clock tower, his narrowed eyes scanning for any threat.

"I don't think we're in Maine anymore," Regina muttered. Pan had no trouble biting back a sarcastic comment, too preoccupied with thinking of Reyna.

"How is this possible?" Emma asked, looking around confusedly. "How does the Underworld look like Storybrooke?"

"Your questions are pointless," Gold said, looking around in a similar fashion as Pan. "What matters is that all the people here are dead and trapped because they have unfinished business."

A loud engine revved, and they looked up to see the death mobile crossing the street.

"Cruella," Emma said in shock.

"Correct, and she is here because of the Jones girl. I imagine there are many here because of all of us," he told them honestly, and it was the truth. Considering they had Hook, Regina, Pan, Felix, and himself, they were probably responsible for more than half the Underworld's population. Soon they would have Reyna, who just increase the total that was their fault. "I'd suggest no lollygagging."

"Let's split up, we'll cover more ground that way," Emma said, looking at a man who was vandalizing a store window, her face mix of horror and sadness.

"Great. The sooner we get out of here, the better," Regina said, pulling her coat closer to her as she examined the same man.

Emma dragged Hook and an unwilling Pan with her, and by extension Rumple as well. Henry paired up with a scowling Felix, and Regina went with Robin. David and Mary-Margaret both separated, all of them heading in a different direction to search for Reyna.

Later, when they had met at the diner, Pan was more frustrated than ever, and he wished that he could kill the dead all over again. There had been too many occasions when Emma and Hook forced him back just before he could mangle their nonexistent faces.

"This hopeless," Emma muttered, leaning on the counter in front of the Blind Witch. Mary-Margaret put a hand on her daughter's shoulder to comfort her. "We don't even know if she is down here. What if she doesn't have any unfinished business?" she asked, despite Neal's words that floated through her head.

"She died a Dark One," Rumple told her, "She's here, Miss Swan, trust me."

Pan ground his teeth. "I'm finished being a team player," he finally snapped, glaring at the heroes as they looked at him in surprise. "If I want to get this done, I'm doing it my way. And you," he said, glaring at Rumple, "Will know where I can find what I want."

"I already told you that I don't know where the girl is," Rumple snarled, and he hadn't lied. Pan had exercised the power of the dagger over him to be sure.

"Yes, but you know where the next best thing is," Pan said, walking out of the diner without waiting to make sure the current Dark One followed.

He stopped outside the pawnshop, the sign broken. He stared at the door, having a feeling of who he would find on the other side. Pushing open the door, he looked emotionlessly over the items. Right inside, a spinning wheel sat, turning slowly, though there was nothing to spin.

He walked further inside, looking at the pedestals. On one was a chipped teacup and saucer, and in his periphery, he could seeing Rumple eyeing it sadly. On a second was the corn husk doll he had given Rumple right before abandoning him, the same one that had been destroyed by Reyna to revive his brother. On the third, there was a deck of weathered cards, and Pan glared at the queens that were standing behind it, supported by magic, recognizing the cards from his days on the streets.

On a fourth and final one was what solidified the knowledge of who owned the Underworld shop. His stomach flipped when his suspicions were confirmed, bile rising in his throat. There was a pair of pipes, not much different from the ones that he currently owned, but there were definite discrepancies. Sitting behind them was a hideous, Waitrose green hat with a single red feather through it. Pan's lip curled in distaste as soon a voice spoke behind him.

"Looking for something?" the gravelly and, contrastingly, oily voice questioned.

Pan heard Rumple's sharp intake of breath, releasing it in a hiss. Pan took a deep breath, taking care to keep his face devoid of emotion. He slowly turned to face the old man behind him.

The man had deep brown eyes and sandy brown hair that was graying slightly, much like Rumple's. His hair type resembled Pan's, slightly curly and disarrayed, and fell just to his ears, a few strands in his face. His lips were pulled back in an empty grin. Unlike his Enchanted Forest counterpart, he wore a suit from the realm without magic. He had a gut to him, hanging off his abdomen, but it wasn't overly noticeable. His chin and upper lip were covered with the same sandy, grey hair in the form of stubble.

Pan's eyes narrowed, honestly surprised to see the man. He had thought he would never see him again, and he thought that never would still be too soon, ironic considering he called his island 'Neverland'.

"I certainly wasn't looking for you," Pan fulminated, his voice filled with disdain and the anger that he was struggling to conceal behind an aloof mask.

"Oh, come on, son. You must be happy to see your dear old dad," the man, Pan's father, said with a smirk that clearly ran in the family.

"You may have sired me, but you are no dad," Pan told him, his nostrils flaring.

"Father?" Rumple mumbled in disbelief.

Malcolm looked at his younger son. "Ah, Rumple, my dear boy! A son to be proud of, one that didn't betray me," he said, making Rumple's lip curl.

Pan ignored them, walking around the counter to search for what he needed.

"Step aside," Rumple snarled in Malcolm's face. The older man moved, waving a hand to the direction that Rumple wanted to head in.

"Look as long as you two like, but this is my shop. You won't find anything unless I want to," Malcolm said, giggling, yes, giggling, when Rumple glared at him in disbelief.

"Careful who you threaten," Pan growled.

"Still the same boy that you always were, I see. Honestly, son, what is the worst you could do, kill me again?" Malcolm said, watching for Pan's reaction.

Pan didn't even flinch, though a smirk spread on his face at the memory.

Peter had always been borderline psychopathic since he was born, and most people who met the young child were quick to try and avoid the manipulative toddler. His father, Malcolm, was the village drunk, and his mother was a seamstress. Even she was terrified of her son, which led to the abusive relationship, in which she felt no remorse hitting him and locking him away.

Peter was creative in his methods though, often laughing as he saw the blood that would flow from his wounds and always finding a way out of the cellar he was trapped in or finding a way to sneak food when he was starved for weeks on end, and by the age of seven, he was intimidating the woman into submission. His father was never home (and when he was, he was a staggering drunk, he would command Peter in a slurred voice to clean the house, hitting him around a few times before taking his mother to their room)

From an early age, his resentment for his family grew, but it was after the birth of Rumplestiltskin that things went from bad to worse. He had always been selfish, and when his mother was gone (so he could no longer boss the bitch around) and his father was absent, he snapped. He left his little brother to starve (or he would have if he hadn't been found) and became more destructive.

With a dark look, he took his brother back at the age of eight, a little under a year after he was born, and the neighbors hesitantly handed him over, knowing the child's reputation, though they assumed that it was Malcolm that had left the boy for dead. His father had an even worse reputation than he did (shockingly enough).

Peter cursed angrily as he 'cared' for Rumple, though having a charge seemed to sober him up, making him grow up (more so than he already was, his behavior could never be described as child-like anyways) and increasing his festering anger and hatred. He stole and lied and intimidated to get what he needed to survive, and everyone was surprised by how well Peter took care of Rumple.

They never saw what went on behind closed doors of course, though Peter managed to keep his shouting and angry fits to a minimum, showing his self control was better than most adults. He never struck his brother, and in a twisted, sickening way, he cared for the red, squirming creature that ruined his life. There were times when he didn't feed the baby or simply neglected it, but he still provided it with what it needed to survive, slowly training it to do his bidding and altering it to better benefit him.

It was the day after Rumple's first birthday that Malcolm stumbled through the door in the middle of the night, shouting loudly for his wife and son.

An eight and a half year old Peter walked into the main part of the house, finding his father banging around the kitchen in search of more liquor.

"You," the child hissed is disgust, making the older man spin around. A dark look crossed over both of their faces, though for different reasons.

Malcolm was found dead the next morning, his face an expression of fear, though most of his body was torn apart and unrecognizable. The townspeople were horrified, and while they had their suspicions, it couldn't be traced back to the murderer, Peter.

Pan could recall that night with perfect accuracy, despite the number of centuries that had passed, and he still recalled the pleasure of tearing the drunkard apart with his bare hands.

"Maybe it's time to put the past behind us," Malcolm said, breaking Pan out of his thoughts. He blinked and found that he was still blindly searching the shelves. "This is what you are looking for, correct?" Malcolm asked, pulling a vial out of his coat and placing it on the pedestal that held Pan's childhood possessions (before he had abandoned that life, or was it before he was abandoned?).

"Go on, take it."

"How generous," Gold said. Even though he hadn't met his father, he knew that the town's stories and he definitely could tell what type of man he was: the same as Pan, the resemblance between the personalities was uncanny, though Pan would say the same about Rumple. "How many strings are attached?"

"No strings," Malcolm said, faking a serious expression. It could have fooled anyone (well not Pan or Rumple). "I meant what I said. Let's put the past behind us, let's start over."

"Never going to happen," Pan said, walking around the counter and keeping his eyes trained on his untrustworthy (he was one to talk) father. "I sent you here for a reason. I didn't regret it then, and I still feel nothing for you."

"I miss the world above, the tastes, the smells," Malcolm said.

"Sorry, you can't go back," Rumple said firmly.

"Unless I trade places with a living soul, which there are now plenty down here. Those people you came with, they are not your friends. And, they are living… for now. Maybe one of them doesn't make the trip back, but your dear old dad does," Malcolm said with a malevolent glint in his eyes.

"Not interested," Rumple and Pan said in unison. Clearly they found something they could agree on (for now at least).

"Not yet," Malcolm said with confidence. "But… this one's on the house today," he said, holding out the corked bottle to his sons, "A gesture of good faith… from a father to his sons."

Rumple took the vial slowly, looking skeptical, and Pan bared his teeth in disbelief. That had been too easy (not that he thought it would be hard, he was more powerful than his father). His father disappeared, clearly having practiced the Underworld magic.

He walked back across the street, ignoring the whispers and stares he received, glaring at anything and everything in his anger. Not only was he worried about Reyna, and angry at the overbearing heroes, but he now had to deal with his father, and don't even get him started on his brother, who he was repressing the growing urge to kill him every second since Reyna died (he winced at the thought of his Lost Girl).

He walked in through the back entrance of the diner.

"It's dangerous here," he heard the Savior say.

"Which is why we're not leaving you alone," Mary-Margaret said firmly in her silvery voice.

"I hate to interrupt this little family squabble," Pan muttered caustically, knowing that their problems were just the tip of the iceberg of family issues.

"What the hell is that?" Robin asked, looking at the vial that Rumple placed involuntarily into Pan's open palm.

"This is a way for me to find Reyna. The Ale of Seonaidh from the land of DunBroch," Pan explained to them, annoyed. Didn't they know anything?

"That's a mouthful," Regina mumbled sarcastically.

"It lets you communicate with the dead," Rumple told her, when Pan silently commanded him to explain it to the morons. "Pour this over Reyna's," he ground his teeth at having to use her actual name, "grave, and we can stop guessing where she is and ask her."

"You're saying Reyna has a grave in the Underworld?" David asked confusedly, leaning closer to their small group.

"Everyone down here has a grave," Rumple informed them.

"Well, if this works, we can find Reyna before the boat leaves. We could all get out of here together," Mary-Margaret said optimistically. Pan looked at the group calculatingly, seeing that Hook was pale and remaining uncharacteristically quiet.

"A fine idea," Rumple said. "I suggest you all get moving," he snapped when no one moved.

"You're coming with us, brother," Pan said, gesturing to the dagger he still had in his possession.

"You should be able to handle this on your own, Pan," Gold snarled venomously. "You want to find your girlfriend, fine, but I have no interest in doing so. As you have pointed out, I wouldn't be able to leave if I wanted to, and I wouldn't try without my dagger."

Rumple made to exit, and David tried to catch him, looking angry. Mary-Margaret raised an arm to stop him. "David, there is no time to argue. If there is even a chance that this will work, we have to risk it."

"Alright, let's go," Emma said. She turned to where Pan was standing only to pause. "Where's Pan?"

"The bloody demon," Hook hissed, knowing that he was running to find the grave. Hook started out the door without waiting, wanting to see his sister. He hurried to the graveyard, knowing he didn't have time to waste.

Pan appeared at the edge of the cemetery, glad that he could yield the Underworld's magic without problem. He began searching the names, muttering to himself under his breath as he passed broken or toppled headstones, carefully reading each to make sure that he doesn't miss Reyna's.

He took longer than he thought to find the large stone with her name carved into the center, which gave the others enough time to catch up.

"Pan!" Emma yelled, running towards the teen. They came to a stop behind him, looking at where he stood hesitantly.

"You okay?" Mary-Margaret called when he didn't use the potion right away.

"Yes, but what matters is if Reyna is," he snapped, glaring at the woman before opening the vial and splashing the liquid on the grass in front of Reyna's headstone. Pan watched the space in front of him, his worry beginning to show the longer nothing changed.

He released a breath that he didn't realize he was holding when the air in front of him shifted, and an image of Reyna appeared.

"Reyna!" he shouted when he saw her, at first in happiness, though it quickly became horror and anger when he saw her appearance.

She looked terrible, her whole body contorted with cuts and bruises. Large wounds were opened and staining the torn clothes she wore, and there was a lot of dried blood as well. Her left eye was swollen shut and her small frame swayed, clearly off balance. Her right eye was half opened, though it looked empty. Large cuts marred her cheeks and forehead, and her lips were swollen and bleeding, another deep cut crossing through the side, giving her a permanent frown (not that she looked happy anyways).

He heard several gasps and growls, but he ignored them, staring at the battered girl in front of him.

"Reyna!" Hook yelled, trying to get her attention.

"Can you hear me, love?" Pan asked, knowing that she couldn't.

"The spells not steady," Regina said, her voice thick with emotion. Reyna's form began to flicker, disappearing before reappearing just as quick.

"Just tell us where you are," Emma said, not listening to what Regina had said.

"Something's happened," Robin whispered sadly.

"The spell's not holding," Regina said shakily.

"Please talk to us," Emma said while Pan could only stare brokenly, knowing that Reyna didn't know he was here for her. One of his fists clenched in fury that someone would do that to her, and whoever it was would pay a steep price.

Her image blurred as it shook, constantly flickering in and out of existence.

"Reyna!" Hook yelled hysterically again.

The image fully disappeared, and Pan dropped to his knees as soon as it did, staring ahead at the tombstone. "Reyna," he muttered, grasping at the space that she had just been.

Pan groaned, dropping his head to the ground and resting it on his fists. "She doesn't know that I'm here," he muttered at the same time Emma said, "She doesn't know that we care!"

Mary-Margaret squeezed her daughter's arm, who turned to comfort a stunned Killian, before walking closer to Pan. "Yes she does, we'll find her," she said comfortingly.

Pan snapped up, glaring at the woman. "What do you know!" he exploded, getting to his feet. "Did you not see that? Are you blind? She is suffering; she is in pain! I am not seeing where there is a bright side!"

"Pan," David warned, pulling his wife away from the angry male.

"Why don't you just leave! I don't want or need you here, and your optimism is getting on my nerves! The Queen of Hearts is arranging transportation, so get the hell out of here!"

"We can arrange transportation after we find Reyna," Emma said assuredly, unbothered by his yelling. "We are not giving up on you," she vowed.

The clock ticks forward to 8:16 once Henry Sr. departed,

In the library, the elevator sounded loudly as Cora got out, looking around the dark cavern. She made her way to the center where Hades sat atop his throne, a woman at his feet. Five rivers, Styx, Acheron, Lethe, Phlegethon, and Cocytus, all met within the high ceilinged cave. The sound of an orchestra echoed though the underground hideout.

Hades and Cora chatted, and Hades dueled out her punishment because she couldn't follow a simple order of ensuring that Regina and the others left his domain. Hades smirked as he stood, watching as Cora turned her back, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed silently.

Twisting his neck, blue flames enveloped his head, replacing his hair. He sipped his wine leisurely before dropping it into the hands of his servant.

"I have a prisoner to take care of."