Pan sat against the trunk of his Thinking Tree, his eyes closed with a tranquil expression on his usually marred– whether it be with a smirk, mischief, or anger– face. It was times like these when he just enjoyed being alone, away from the responsibilities of Neverland, away from the Lost Boys, and away from his impending death.
The clearing he sat in was comfortable. The large tree which he sat under at its center, green grass rolling across the large field. It was one of the prettier parts of the island, in the Pixie Woods. While the rest of the island was overflowing with shrubs and poisonous plants, this clearing was isolated and relatively peaceful. The light always seemed to shine a little brighter, and the grass was always greener. In the distance he could hear the quiet sound of waves crashing onto the beach shores.
He seemed to lose himself in his thoughts, as he often did, allowing the calm atmosphere to relax him as much as possible (despite common belief, he was never good at acting as young as he pretended. It was also quite stressful. He too, like so many others, suffered from a range of emotions and stress).
He thought of his brother. The tree always reminded him of Rumple. He didn't feel bad for abandoning him. He probably should, and a part of him truly did love him. That might be why he cared for his Lost Boys so much (this too was a misconception of the masses). He wasn't meant to take care of someone else. A child can't take care of a child. Sure, he had let his shadow drag him away with no remorse, but that didn't mean he forgot about his little burden. It was why he called himself Peter Pan. It was the silly name for the last gift he had ever given Rumple. Not usually sentimental, he still kept the doll on his person most of the time, cloaked under several spells.
He thought of his mission. He would need to get the heart of the Truest Believer. He had the picture of the boy, and all his forces– that he had collected so far– out searching for him or any of his living relatives. He wanted immortality more than anything else, nothing would come between him and his goal, nothing would stop him. Peter Pan never fails.
As he thought of the Truest Believer, his mind wandered to the 'prophecy' he was given by the seer. What could she have possibly meant? As he never wanted to grow up, he couldn't figure out what a man would bother to seek out for his entire life, nor could he fathom actually caring for something enough to mourn its loss. Even when he lost a Lost Boy – cost of the game– he was never truly sad about it. What could possibly hold such importance to him that it would be worth more than his own life? Than his chance at immortality? Than his own selfish desires? He assumed the seer was lying to him.
He was pulled from his thoughts by a loud yelp that resounded not far behind him. Standing, he disappeared in a cloud of smoke, teleporting to the edge of the trees by the cliffs. He made it just in time to see a girl (that was a shock to him) falling over the edge.
For an unknown reason, an irrational feeling of panic came over him as her screams echoed in his ears. The island was unnervingly quiet following the splash of her landing in the water. Cursing under his breath, he ran to the edge scared for the girl who had just plummeted her way into Mermaid Lagoon. He didn't know why he felt the need to do it, or why he was suddenly so worried about another person (he didn't bother to give it much thought). Taking a few steps back to get a running start, he ran back the steps, diving into the now calm waters below.
Breaking the surface, Pan quickly saw the girl, who was weakly struggling against a mermaid who was slowly forcing her deeper into more pressurized water. Swimming quickly for the aquatic girl, anger taking the reigns as he saw the girl going unconscious and turning blue from lack of oxygen, Pan reached out to grab her. "Let her go!" the mermaid hissed at him, showing its true colors compared to the fairytale mermaids.
Pan, glaring at the fish waved his hand, magic flashing brightly as the skin on the 'maids arm began to sizzle and burn, peeling off in flaky layers as the water bubbled and heated. Hissing like a serpent, the mermaid relinquished the girl to Pan, darting deeper, clutching her damage (and disabled, it wouldn't work again afterwards) hand to her large chest.
He hurriedly swam back to the surface, lugging the now dead-weight of the girl by her waist. Making it to the shore, he gently carried her bridal style onto the beach, tenderly lying her small (unhealthily so) body on the wet sand a little ways from the water. Waving a hand over himself to dry his clothes, he got down on his knees, checking her pulse and breathing. Both were shallow, and he wasn't exactly sure how to handle it, a foreign feeling to him. He sat, praying that she would live, occasionally checking her vitals again.
At one point she hadn't been breathing for several minutes, her heart stopped. Feeling an overwhelming need to save her, he carefully began what little CPR he knew, and while he wouldn't admit it later on, administered mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. He relaxed when she began to breathe again, though her lips remained the unnatural blue color. He paced impatiently, waiting for her to wake up.
A girl was awoken by the sound of talking. She wondered where she was. Her head pounded as she forced her ears to listen to the sound. "They're trying to take you two away from me. But I won't let them," the person, a boy she thought, sounded like he was on the brink of being mental. The voice had a British accent, though she couldn't put a face or name to the sound. She groaned quietly, her head hurting as it spun. She could feel the world beneath her swaying slightly, and it was making her nauseous.
"Reyna?" she heard the voice question, the crazed sound becoming concern and relief. Reyna? Who was that? Was that who she was? It sure didn't sound familiar. Why didn't it sound like it was directed at her? She was very confused.
She sat up immediately, eyes flying opened, looking around hurriedly. Nothing looked familiar, and she was wondering where and who she was. She flinched back as she saw a boy, no older than seventeen, standing over her, love and worry warring in his dark green eyes. "Who the bloody hell are you?" she shouted, scrambling to put distance between herself and the stranger. Her thick British accent sounded odd to her ears, though why, she didn't know.
The boy's face fell, looking perplexed. "Reyna, it's me, Peter." The name didn't ring a bell. "I don't know a Peter. I think. And who's Reyna?" The boy– Peter– seemed to realize what was going on, his face going from concern to anger. She shrank back. Something about the boy felt off, she just couldn't but her finger on what it was.
Peter's eyes narrowed. "You're Reyna. And I'm Peter. We are-" he didn't finish the sentence, with a look that meant (she assumed) he was having epiphany. Suddenly, he spun around, his face contorting with fury.
He stormed to the bed beside hers, glaring at the brunette, who also didn't look familiar, before hovering his hand over his chest, making it glow gold. Her eyes widen, what the hell was that? Peter suddenly jerked back, gasping as he clutched his hand, teeth bared. "Oh, how clever."
She watched, bewildered, as Peter latched on to the air behind the other boy, pulling back. Her breathing sped as she watched a purple mass, the size of the boy (who was now in pain) detached from his back like his shadow. Fear welled up in her, as well as surprise, though a small part, in the very back of her mind was both indifferent and, lustful? That seemed odd, but she didn't bother deciphering her feelings as she jumped off the bed, getting as far away as possible from the angry boy.
The room suddenly, like magic, had another occupant, an older man with shoulder length hair appearing with a box in his hand. "Blood magic works both ways, brother," the man said, attracting Peter's attention. The girl– was her name actually Reyna?– looked between the two, not seeing many similarities. The man waved a hand over the box, making the red jewel pop up and red smoke to materialize from it.
Peter's eyes widened in panic as it moved towards him, making him tug harder on the younger boy's, well, shadow. Without much control from herself, she stepped moved towards Peter, her hand outstretched. "No!" she shouted, not sure why a sudden crippling amount of despair, terror, and protectiveness overwhelmed her other emotions. She was too late, meeting Peter's eyes, which filled with determination upon meeting hers, as he was sucked into the vortex. At the last second, his irises glowed before the emotions in them changed, almost becoming a completely different person as his face changed to show anxiety. "No!" he shouted just before disappearing.
She shrank back to the shadows, narrowly avoiding the horde of people that rushed into the room towards the only boy left. He was panting from exertion as he lay back on the bed. She felt her throat close up and tears fill her eyes, but she pegged it as everything being thrown at in her in the course of three minutes as well as the slight claustrophobia of being in such a small space with so many people.
"Henry? Henry!" The first woman, a short woman with dark brown, borderline black, hair and dark brown eyes, shouted as she ran towards the boy. Henry? The girl thought through her hazy hyperactive mind. She was followed closely by a long blonde haired woman with hazel eyes, a man with light brown hair and blue eyes, a second man with brown hair and brown eyes, and a third woman with black hair cut like a pixie's with hazel eyes. The woman in the lead ran right over to the boy, putting her hands on his shoulders.
"Henry!" She shouted again, and the boy gasped his eyes flying open. The girl couldn't help but think he 'felt' different than he had minutes before. "It's okay. I'm okay," Henry said breathlessly. "Are you sure?" the woman asked as the others gathered with varying degrees of worry on their faces. As Henry nodded, the man in the queer leather outfit spoke up. "He's a strong boy, Regina. You raised him well." The brunette, Regina nodded, tears filling her eyes as she leaned down to hug the young boy.
She met Henry's eyes over Regina's shoulder, a shiver running down her spine. There was definitely something off about him.
Reyna couldn't figure out what was wrong with Pan. He had been acting strange, at least strange for an immortal (and magical) teenage boy with an oversized ego. He had been disappearing often and had a very short temper– much shorter than it usually was. While they were still on not-so-good terms after she helped Baelfire, Neal, escape (it had only been two weeks), that didn't stop her from worrying about him. He may want nothing to do with her, but she wanted to make sure he was okay.
She was making dinner for the boys with Felix– she had managed to worm her way back into his life, and they were currently on better terms than they had ever been– when she felt a hand close tightly around her bicep, pulling her backwards and up, forcing her to her feet. She couldn't stop the surprised yelp that she released, turning her head to meet Pan's storming green eyes. It seemed he was in a mood, not surprising as of late.
"Excuse me for a second, Felix," she muttered as Pan began to pull her along, his grip on her arm loosening enough to not hurt her, but forceful enough to remind her there was no room for argument. Felix didn't even look up as he nodded, staring desolately at the fire as he continued their task. She allowed herself to be dragged for a few moments before she snapped.
Jerking her arm from his grip, she only just managed to not slip forward (into Pan) at the sudden stop she forced them to. Glaring, crossing her arms over her chest, she frowned at Pan as he rounded on her, looking annoyed. "Would you like to tell me why you abducted me? Where are we going?" Pan just returned her glare.
"Can you not be quiet for once and just follow me?" he snapped heatedly, his jaw clenched.
She raised her eyebrows, surprised at his comment. "Me?" she questioned incredulously. "You have been evading me for weeks now. And now you have the… Audacity!… to drag me away when you're in one of your moods! I haven't said more than one syllable words since 'that night' and I need to be quiet? Dammit, Peter! You can't keep doing this. Tell me where the hell you're taking me!"
All the anger on Pan's faced washed away, stupefied. He liked the way his name sounded coming from her mouth. Then it came back with a vengeance, remembering the matter at hand. "Well, sorry if I'm not justified to not want to speak to someone who betrayed me! And you can't just shut up for ten seconds while I try and be nice to you?"
"This is nice? Manhandling me and acting like an ass? I don't even want to know what your mean is then!"
They both silenced at that comment, glaring at one another, both of them breathing rapidly. Later, when they examined the beginning of their relationship, neither knew who made the first move.
It was a blur of movement as Reyna found herself pinned against a tree, her head pulled roughly back as Pan attacked her mouth with his own. The kiss was the whole nine yards, teeth clacking, lips locked, tangled tongues. Pan only pulled back when she was nearly passing out from lack of air. Her lips were swollen and she looked up at him dazedly. He couldn't help the smirk that appeared on his face– later he would be glad they had this fight. He may not have had her if they didn't.
"I'm still angry," he whispered, though at the kiss it had melted away. She gave a smirk back, only further increasing his lust for her. "I hate you," she mumbled, grabbing his shirt and pulling his lips back down to hers.
From there, the night escaladed quickly, fast and heavy. Groping hands, hastily discarded clothing thrown to the floor of Pan's tree house (he had teleported them there), it was rough and simply run on pure carnal desire and lust. Reyna loved every moment. Every bit of pleasurable pain that Pan dealt out brought her to a whole new high. While she didn't have much to go on (having just given him her virginity), she knew that Peter Pan would be all she ever wanted.
She was nearly in tears as she watched the people interact. Why had seeing this Peter's, whom she didn't even recognize, disappearance affect her so much? And why did she feel that the other boy, Henry, whom she also knew next to nothing about, was different than he had been not even an hour earlier? Her mind couldn't process the answers, or the entire situation at that, and she just wanted to go back to sleep, find out this was a horrible dream and wake up in whatever life she had before (with the memory loss, she wasn't sure what she would be waking up to). Her heart pounded in its cage, why though, she wasn't sure.
Regina had released the boy before turning around and looking at the bed that Reyna (was that really her name?) had occupied previously. Her eyes flashed angrily upon seeing empty and was about to shout when she met a pair of violet eyes in the shadows. Her lips curled into a malicious grin.
"It's good to see you awake, dear. We were worried you wouldn't wake up after that fall you took." Reyna pressed herself further into the shadows, feeling all eyes being drawn to her at Regina's words. She couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right, and she thought she could sense that Regina was lying. The blonde woman drew a sword, looking uncertainly towards Regina, the brunette man looked at her sadly, the couple in the back stared at her guiltily, and the man with the mousy long hair glared at her with hatred. She tensed, wondering why they all seemed so hostile and sad.
Finding her voice, she began to question them, her voice shaking. "Wh-Who are you? Where am I? Why the bloody hell ar-are you pointing that sword at me?" Tears began to fall, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Henry frown, his eyes darting to the others and flashing with anger. All of their expressions, minus the older man and Regina, turned to confusion and surprise. The blonde lowered her sword slightly.
"You don't recognize us? Or this ship?" the woman with the pixie cut asked in confusion. Reyna shook her head violently. "I don't know! I don't even know who I am, or what the hell is going on for that matter! Just don't hurt me! And why– or how– did you do that to that boy?" she exclaimed hysterically, making everyone (minus only Regina this time) share a look.
"Don't you see this is a trick? She is still, and always will be, loyal to Pan! She is trying to trick us, get our guard down," the man with the longer hair shouted, glaring in disbelief. Reyna was even more confused. What trick? And why would she be devoted to a kitchen appliance? No one else seemed convinced by the man.
Regina, looking annoyed, said, "Trust me, this isn't a trick. I would know." The blonde seemed to realize the meaning behind her words first (minus Henry) and gaped between the two. "Regina…" she said, sounding uncertain how to move forward.
"Calm down, savior, she's harmless."
"And she's right here!" Reyna shouted, slightly annoyed that they were talking about her like she wasn't in the room. Everyone's gaze snapped towards her. "Would someone, please, explain what is going on?"
Before anyone could answer, there was a shout from above. "Aye! Ready for takeoff when you lot are!" a rough and British male voice called, presumably towards those gathered below. The blonde took the lead. "Let's get out of here. We all need to talk privately above deck as well." She said all this, first addressing the entire group before looking pointedly at Regina, who rolled her eyes, and turned her nose up at the accusing stares.
They all filed out, making her groan in frustration, having more questions appear than be answered, leaving her more befuddled than when she had woken up.
The next morning, she woke up feeling sore and tired, but relaxed, weightless, all the same. She groaned as the hammock beneath her swayed slightly. "You need an actual bed," she complained to herself. She had gotten used to hammocks since coming to Neverland, but she had to admit they were not the most ideal for the activities they were used for last night. She jumped at the sound of a chuckle from across the room. She sprang into a sitting position, her eyes wide, her head whipping around so fast that it was a shock she didn't get whiplash.
"I've never had a need for an actual bed, love." Pan's voice, while she knew that it was him in the room, still surprised her. Her eyes met his across the room, where he sat a table, feet propped up, dressed and a half-eaten apple in hand.
His gaze wondered downwards slightly, making her look down, only to flush as she realized her chest had been exposed in her hasty jump. She pulled the sheet– where had that come from?– up, effectively covering herself. Pan rolled his eyes. "Suddenly modest, are we?" he mocked, smirking as she glared, though it was only half-hearted.
"Shut up."
Pan chuckled, though his face became somber afterwards, looking at her guardedly. "Something to eat?" he asked politely, waving his apple slightly. Shaking her head mutely, making Pan shrug as he took a bite of his own breakfast, Reyna swung her legs over the edge of the hammock, standing up, adjusting the sheet to still covering her. Pan looked at her wistfully for a second before his face hardened and he looked away, staring into the apple he had just bitten.
"There is a bathroom over there," he said, pointing blindly off to the side, "if you wish to go clean up. There are already clothes that you can wear. Hurry up, we have errands to run." Nodding, if not slightly confused and hurt by his dismissal, she turned and entered the door that was on the side of the room.
She was surprised to see that it was actually a bathroom, with a toilet and sink, as well as a shower. Shrugging, she pulled the sheet off, lying it on the ground, before turning on the water of the shower. Allowing it to heat up, she turned to the sink, and by extension, the mirror above it.
Her black hair was a mess, standing up in all directions, tangled, and knotted, and her lips slightly bruised. Bruises that would match up with Pan's fingertips lined her thighs and there was a minimal amount of blood on the inside them.
Shaking her head, she looked around for clothes and a towel, finding them sitting on the lid of the toilet, folded neatly. Nodding slightly, she stepped into the shower, closing the curtain.
She came out of the bathroom twenty minutes later, dressing in a pair of shorts (they just managed to cover the bruises), a sweatshirt, and boots like Pan's, her wet hair pulled into a high ponytail. Her towel and the sheet were slung over her arm, unsure of what to do with them. Pan was still sitting where he had been, though now he was, surprisingly, reading a book. "You're reading?" she asked, her eyebrows raised.
Pan looked up, raising an eyebrow of his own. "Did you think I couldn't?" Quickly shaking her head she exclaimed, "No! Not at all. It just doesn't seem like something you would willingly do is all." Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He chuckled, standing up and walking towards her. Taking the dirty laundry from her, he waved his hand over them making them disappear. She watched in awe. She hadn't ever really paid attention when he did magic before.
He walked back over to her, invading her personal space– not that she minded– brushing his hand over her inflamed cheek. "No need to be embarrassed, love. I was only joking." Her nose wrinkled at the endearment (as it always does), but other than that she simply ignored him. Before she could say anything else, he reached out, taking her hand and teleporting away.
As they landed, a wave of nausea crashed over her, and she stumbled into Pan as her feet tripped and her body swayed. Glaring up at him as he supported her weight, she snapped, "A little warning next time!" He rolled his eyes.
Hers shut tightly to stop the world from spinning. It took her longer than she would like to admit to get her bearings, but she finally relaxed, pulling herself unwillingly from Pan's arms, crossing her own over her chest. He simply smirked and started walking into the forest.
She could hear the waves not far off. "Come on! We don't have all day, I was going to show you this yesterday, but we lost track of time! Hurry up!" Pan shouted, making her jog after him, curious as to what he could possibly want to show her.
She had felt the boat– that was what the woman had said they were on– lurch, signifying that they were now moving, to where she had no idea. It wasn't long after that that Regina, the blonde, and the couple returned, none of them looking particularly happy, though Regina face lit up when she looked at Henry. Motherly, Reyna thought was the best way to describe it. Regina ran a hand through his hair, giving him a smile.
"How are you feeling, sweetheart? Any better?" The boy nodded mutely, offering a small smile. "Well, if you're feeling okay, you can head upstairs and get something to eat, may make you feel better. Only if you're sure you'll be alright." The boy smiled and nodded, pulling her into a hug. "Great idea, mom." He said before sliding out of the bed, and passing the others without a second glance, except for Reyna, whom his eyes lingered on too long for her comfort though no one else seemed to notice.
Regina turned looking at Reyna like a shark looked at fish, friends not food her ass. A shiver ran down her spine. "We were worried when Pan attacked you-"
"Pan? You say that like a proper noun. What does cookery have to do with this?" The blonde rolled her eyes, but Regina didn't look impressed.
"Not a pan. Pan. The boy who tried to attack you and Henry before Gold arrived."
Reyna didn't think that the boy was a threat, to her anyways. And Gold? Was that the man-who-hated-her-for-no-apparent-reason's name? Naming a man after a precious metal seemed silly.
Sensing her confusion and using it to her advantage, Regina continued with the story that they had created until she could make the girl a set of fake memories.
"Yes, we were scared when he hit you in the head, pretty hard from the sound your skull made colliding with the tree, and you've been out ever since. Gave your parents quite the scare." Reyna's eyebrows pulled together. "Parents?" she echoed in question. The word didn't sound right on her tongue.
"Of course. Loving ones too. This couple right behind me. They haven't stopped fretting since we brought you in. Snow? David?" Both had a strained expression as they met her eyes. "Snow?" she repeated, wondering what kind of name that was.
"Me." The pixie haired woman, now known as Snow– her mother?– stepped forward with a look towards her husband. Regina smirked, knowing Snow would play the part of a worried mother. "Your father and I have been so worried when you didn't wake up. Oh! We are so happy you're alive. We will do everything in our power to make you remember us." Snow said, walking forward and pulling her into a hug that she didn't return. Something wasn't right here.
The man stepped forward with a small, not genuine smile on his face, pulling the two into a hug. "Glad to see you awake, kiddo," he said awkwardly, patting her head. Revulsion welled up in her gut, though she wasn't sure why, and she quickly wormed her way from their arms. "Who am I, what's my name? And who is she?" she asked, gesturing to herself then to the blonde, savior Regina had called her earlier.
"You are Reyna Nolan, daughter of Mary-Margaret Snow and David James Nolan. And that is your sister, Emma Swan," Regina informed her, looking annoyed. Reyna didn't believe that for a second, no memories or not. 'Emma' was practically the same age as her supposed parents.
Snow, tenderly brushing her hair from her face, smiled softly. "There is a lot to explain, but you'll remember it, I promise. Why don't you get some sleep sweetie, and we can get you something to eat when you get up. Hopefully we will be home by then."
Reyna, wanting this nightmare to end, nodded numbly, conflicted between needing answers and getting some much deserved sleep. This was too much to process. She mechanically got into bed, ignoring the others in the room, though they left soon after, turning on her side and drifting into a restless sleep.
Henry made his way above deck, looking out at the night sky that they were flying through, leaning on a railing nearby. Neal, taking notice to his son, looked up in surprise. "Hey, shouldn't you be resting? I can bring you some food, if you're feeling up to it." Henry smiled. "I'm feeling much better now. I think the fresh air is good for me."
Neal nodded, climbing up the steps. "Henry, I know we haven't had much time to be a family, yet, I just want you to know that you have a dad now, now and for forever. I'm not going to ever leave you. Okay, buddy?" Henry nodded, pulling his dad into a hug. Releasing him, he pointed towards the food, making his way towards it.
He picked up two plates, heading to a secluded part amongst the crates where a blond sat with a scar running down his cruel face. Taking a seat on one of the boxes, he offered the boy one of the meals. "Go away, boy. Not hungry." Felix's voice was cold as he spoke to Henry, who seemed unbothered by his tone.
"But I came to thank you." Felix looked up, both confused and annoyed. "No matter what those traitors do, I am on Pan's side. Most of us boys are. Pan-" "Never fails," Henry finished.
"What?" Felix questioned, unsure he heard him right.
Henry rolled his eyes. "You heard me. I said, Peter Pan never fails. He can't be stopped. Even when they think they've won, when they think he's down. He finds a way."
"So you think you're not safe?" Felix asked.
"Oh no, I'm perfectly safe. During our struggle, my fate was sealed. The one who's in trouble is Henry."
"But you're Henry," Felix answered, not catching on.
"Not anymore."
It clicked in his head, and he shifted, looking around, before turning to face Henry. "You- You switched." Henry smirked, holding out the plate once more. "Sure you aren't hungry?"
Felix took it with a smirk of his own. "Thank you, Pan."
"They took her from me. Took her memories." Felix's eyes widened as he knew exactly who Pan was talking about. His first thoughts were of getting his little sister back. "They don't understand what they unleashed." Pan smirked. "Let's play."