Dark Paradise

by ladykikyo1792

Peter Pan is dead, and Wendy Darling is now living in Storybrooke. Pretty and popular at her high school, no one guesses that now, months later, she still has nightmares of The Boy Who Never Grew Up. As she struggles to fit in and forget her past, a string of murders make her wonder if her past will ever let her go- or if he really died. AU where Peter isn't Rumple's father.

24. Chapter 24: Through the flames

Author's Note:

Hi guys! So...two chapters in ONE DAY! I'm shocked (and I'm sure you are too)! As always, shoutout to Hildebrant for the chapter title. :)

Anyway, this Author's Note is super short because it is from the same day. I hope you guys liked the last chapter, and I hope you love this one as well! Thank you for reading and please let me know what you think!

Enjoy!

~ladykikyo1792

---

Chapter 24: Through the flames I see them coming, through the flames I see them longing. They have come to end the living, unforetold and unforgiving...

It was nearly 2 in the morning by the time Wendy heard the front door slam. She spun around and ran towards the door, practically tripping over a sleeping Lost Boy. She was greeted by the decidedly very rare sight of Peter Pan looking stunned. For once, his face was not pulled into a self-satisfied smirk, his eyes full of unwavering confidence. Instead, he bore a peculiar expression- not troubled, exactly, but certainly surprised.

"What happened?" Wendy asked. Pan's eyes flicked to her, and he shook his head.

"Not here. Upstairs," with that, he himself began to stride up the staircase, beckoning for Wendy to walk with him. Almost as an afterthought, he said softly, "Felix." Peter's second reappeared at his summons, making his entrance from the living room adjacent to the entry hall. Tinkerbell stood behind him, half hidden behind a pillar.

Pan raised an eyebrow, and the fairy hurriedly explained, "Felix came and got me. He figured that once the Charmings realized Wendy was missing, I would be next, and it was safer for me here." There was a long silence, but finally Peter said:

"You may as well come too." Tink let out the breath he'd been holding, and she and the Lost Boy followed Neverland's king to the second floor. He led them to the master suite. It consisted of a large, spacious bedroom with a king-sized bed, scarlet curtains, and a massive wardrobe. There was a door to the side, which Wendy could only assume led to a connected bathroom. All in all it was not something she would have pegged for Peter's taste, but then she realized that he would hardly take any other room. He couldn't, not if he was trying to reassert his power with the old Lost Boys and assure it to the new. He was the master, he was the king, and as such, this room, and the privacy it afforded, was exclusively his.

Rather gallantly, Peter gestured for the two girls to enter before him. He jerked his head, and even Felix stepped in before his leader. It was a strange switch in the pecking order, but it made sense when Peter locked the door behind him. He would leave nothing to chance.

"What is it, Peter?" Wendy asked, still perturbed by her sight of him after he'd returned. Now, though, he seemed slightly more in control, or at least in control of his emotions.

"It seems that the Evil Queen has learned a new trick. Like us, she has learned not only to reset the board, but to change it entirely," Pan glanced at Felix, whose own face was gravely serious. Tink, meanwhile, was staring back and forth from Pan to Felix, getting increasingly nervous. Wendy's spine prickled with unease. She didn't know which side she was on anymore. Pan was out to kill an innocent boy, but he was doing it to save hundreds of lost souls. The Charmings were out to protect that boy, but they'd already cast her as a villain when she'd done nothing more than get swept up in an impulsive kiss. Meanwhile, the would-be murderer had freed her, and the would-be protectors had imprisoned her. She didn't want to harm anyone, but what was worse: harming an innocent boy who'd befriended her, or harming others who she'd never know? The dilemma made her head swim.

Pan, it appeared, had already decided Wendy was on his side; he wouldn't have set her free otherwise, never mind said, "like us."

Like us.

Like us.

Like us.

The words echoed in Wendy's mind unbidden, but she was snapped out of her daze by Tink's query:

"Change the board? Peter...you can't mean..." the fairy trailed off in disbelief.

Pan raised an eyebrow, "Of course I mean that. You, of all people, should know that. I did it once," he let out a disbelieving laugh, "I'm somewhat impressed they managed it, but the question remains: where did they go?"

"What are you talking about?" Wendy interjected. She was relatively familiar with Neverland metaphors, of course, but she'd never heard about "changing the board." "Resetting," or causing Pan to reconsider his puppeteering, yes, but "changing?"

"It appears that the Charmings have left Storybrooke," Felix said slowly, the exasperation obvious in his voice.

"Not all the Charmings," Peter interjected, "Just one. The Evil Queen, Ariel, and Henry disappeared into the Wishing Well earlier this evening. I'd have followed, but they left with the help of Nyx. I was given the power to independently cross worlds using the stars, not dependent on a 'guardian' and using water," he scoffed at the very notion, then added, "It took some time, but Regina returned with the mermaid alone."

"They left Henry alone in another world?" Wendy gasped. In a way, it was ingenious. There were countless worlds. Peter could spend forever searching for Henry, and never find him.

"Oh, I'm sure he's not alone," Pan noted, "It's just a matter of who she'd trust enough to leave him with."

"Her mother's dead," Tink pointed out, "she couldn't leave him with anyone in the Enchanted Forest. The few people left there still hate her. Maybe using her heart would tell us if anyone would help an Evil Queen."

"I've already checked," Peter said smoothly, "She removed Henry's, Ariel's, and her own memories. The only things she remembers are that he's safe in another world and has no memory of her, and that she herself removed her memory of where and who she left him with to ensure his safety. She did all this without telling anyone in Storybrooke," he gave credit where credit was due with an incline of his head, "Clever. Very clever."

"What are we going to do?" Felix asked, instantly getting to the core of the situation.

"Get the Heart of the Truest Believer, of course," Pan smirked, "Henry and his mother disappeared by the Wishing Well. I suppose that's this world's Well of Wonders. Henry, however, isn't immortal. He's very much a human. He can only hold his breath for so long; there's only so many worlds he can go to from here while still living. By my count, they would be Oz, the Land Without Color, Wonderland, and the Enchanted Forest itself. The Enchanted Forest we can discard outright. The land's completely unstable without its rulers- who don't seem to realize that, considering they're still here -and if Regina were to even step foot there, the remaining denizens would kill her immediately."

"And Henry? Technically, he's a prince there. Emma is heiress to the throne, but Henry follows her as next in line. Would they kill their prince? Especially one from the Charming Dynasty?" Wendy asked doubtfully.

"They don't even know who Henry is," Tinkerbell pointed out, "If he shows up with Regina, they'd kill him regardless. If he shows up without her and claims to be himself, the remaining citizens of the Enchanted Forest may be so infuriated that the Charmings have yet to return to aid them they'd still kill him."

Pan nodded, pleased with Tink's assessment, "We can also ignore the Land Without Color. They prefer science to magic, but unlike here- excluding Storybrooke -magic can operate in the Land Without Color. Still, Regina wouldn't leave her son there either. For magic to exist there, there must be someone to control and conduct the magic. She didn't stay, so there is no one in that world to do so- it's not like the populace would. That leaves us with Oz and Wonderland."

At the mention of Oz, Felix's expression darkened, "Pan. I don't ask you for much, and I'll follow you almost anywhere, but don't make me go there."

Pan's eyes narrowed, "Felix, you're my second. I need you by my side." His words were a dangerous warning, but Felix repeated, "Don't make me go to Oz. I'll go, if you force me. But I'm asking you to take someone else there. Don't make me go back." He and Peter stared at each other, and Pan must have recognized the plea in his eyes, for at last he said:

"Very well. You will remain in Storybrooke, and Slightly can come to Oz. I expect you in Wonderland."

"Thank you."

Peter nodded, then left the room, taking Wendy with him.

Once they were alone, Tinkerbell pulled Felix aside, "Why won't you go to Oz?"

His face darkened again, and Tink pressed, "I've never seen you say no to Pan. Why now?"

Felix replied, his voice completely monotone, "I told you how Peter saved my life. I didn't tell you where. I was born in Oz. Maybe it's different now, but when I was there, the capital was the Emerald City. Everyone who lived in the Emerald City was incredibly wealthy. Everyone who didn't…wasn't. Especially after the war."

---

Felix waited outside the tavern. He sat in the back of the building, which afforded him a view of the sordid proceedings within. Men sloshed mugs of poppy ale together, and laughed raucously at jokes that weren't that funny. Barmaids wandered around, refilling mugs, tight smiles on their faces to mask their annoyance at being groped. Darting between the barmaids were young women in low cut dresses showing off ample bosoms, the gowns slashed to show off shapely legs. They simpered and smiled and sat on the laps of the men they noticed were ordering multiple rounds- these men had at least a little money to spend, and perhaps if they demonstrated their assets, the men would spend some money on them instead of ale- and the girls would eat more than one meal over the next few days. Felix sympathized with them. He'd talked to a few while they waited for customers and he waited for his stepfather, and while the girls hated selling their bodies, they hated the thought of dying of hunger more. There weren't many jobs for women on this part of the Yellow Brick Road. Most of the men engaged in physical labor, the younger women (excluding the barmaids, who were related to the tavern owner) were prostitutes, and the older women tried to make themselves useful, but often found themselves out of work. Felix's mother worked as a seamstress, but there wasn't much pay or work for a seamstress in a town as poor as theirs. His father, Nick, had died when he was a baby- murdered by being hacked into pieces, though the culprit had never been found.

Partly out of loneliness, but mostly out of necessity, Felix's mother, Nimmie, had accepted an offer of marriage from his father's best friend after Nick's death. Marcus was a blacksmith, ostensibly trained to shoe farmers' horses, but who made his real living as a result of the war. Of the men in the village who had come home alive, each had at least one missing limb. Since the villagers were too poor not to work (and physical labor was impossible without all four limbs), Marcus had solved the problem by making the men artificial limbs of tin. As such, Marcus was one of the few men in the village with money to spend, and when he asked Nimmie to marry him, she agreed- after all, she didn't just have herself to take care of, but her newborn son as well.

Marcus was satisfied with the arrangement at first, as Nimmie had been quite beautiful when she was younger. However, like all women, she had aged, and the stress and sorrow had aged her beyond her years. Marcus had agreed to continue to support Nimmie and Felix, but only on the condition that she cooked and cleaned for him. And so long as she looked the other way when he sought his physical pleasures in the girls at the tavern.

Felix knew it broke her heart, but his mother did whatever she had to to protect him. He was older now, and apprenticed to his stepfather. He longed for the day when his apprenticeship was over, and when he could petition the Witch to let him and his mother move down the Road. He fantasized about it often. He would be such a talented blacksmith that his skills would be needed far and wide, and even Princess Ozma would one day summon him to the gates of the Emerald City to place shoes on her horses. Felix would take his mother, of course, and once they passed through the gates, she wouldn't be sad anymore. He would save them both, and she would smile again.

"Back again, Felix?"

He looked up into a pair of blue eyes, smiling sadly at him. Straggly black hair curled around the girl's shoulders, and she wore a faded, patchwork purple dress cut to show her pale legs.

He gave her a mirthless smile back and drawled, "Every night, Serena. You know how it is."

"I do," she agreed, glancing through the window, "He's on his sixth glass. He'll pass out soon."

Felix snorted, "I hope so."

Serena bit her lip, speaking for all the girls, "We do, too," then she sighed, "We'll try to help him along."

Before she could return inside the tavern, Felix asked, "Serena, do you ever think about leaving?"

"Leaving what?" she blinked.

"Leaving here," he gestured vaguely towards the forest, where a faint path of yellow bricks could be seen, "Going down the Road." The Yellow Brick Road led to the very heart of Oz and its capital city: the Emerald City. Inside the city it was said the residents dressed in expensive silks and satins, and their tables were covered in the finest delicacies. However, as the "Eastern Queen" said- for that was what she commanded they name her, though the people called her the Witch of the East behind her back -those citizens who lived in the Emerald City had only gotten there through hard work and dedication. They hadn't traveled down the Road by themselves. Instead, the Witch of the East evaluated each family's income and progress every year, and if they exceeded her expectations (and her taxes), she would let them travel to the next village on the Road- one mile, one step closer to living in the Emerald City -to begin their work again. If they met her expectations, they remained in their old village- and if they didn't, they moved to the village behind them, farther away from the Emerald City- farther away from hope.

Felix knew, in a way, that traveling down the Yellow Brick Road was useless. The Witch rarely let families move on, and even if she did, they would never reach the Emerald City in their lifetime. No matter how much the Witch touted the virtue of hard work needed to go down the Road, no work would ever be enough.

Serena sighed, "Of course I have. But you know we can't."

"The Witch isn't always around," Felix insisted, "Do you think she would really notice if my mother and I just left, one day? If we rode hard, maybe we could reach the city-"

"Felix," Serena said softly, taking his hand in hers, "The Witch knows everything. Don't- don't give up your life for a dream."

Felix opened his mouth to tell her that what he had now was no life, but before he could get the words out, he was backhanded, falling into the dirt.

"What are you doing here, boy?" growled Marcus. He stood above Felix, glowering. His face was red with anger and drink.

Rubbing his cheek, Felix drawled- his usual mask for his emotions, "Waiting for you, stepfather."

"Waiting for me?" Marcus barked, "Waiting for me!? If that's so, what are you doing out here with her?" he turned his gaze on Serena, "I paid for you, you little minx," he grabbed her wrist, and she gasped in pain, "Did you think you could pocket the money and run? Or do you find my stepson here more handsome than me?"

"N-no," the girl gasped, shrinking away from him, "Not at all, Marcus. You know I think you're very handsome- the most handsome man-"

"I think you're a liar," Marcus spat in her face, and Serena began to cry:

"I'm not lying! I swear I'm not! I promise I'm not!" her protestations fell on deaf ears. Marcus grabbed her and threw her up against the wall of the tavern.

"Then you'll have to show me," the man growled, and he began to rip open her bodice.

Felix jumped to his feet, "Let go of her!"

"Stay out of this, boy. This is what a man does."

"I said let go of her!" Felix shouted. This time, his yelling was loud enough to attract the attention of the tavern patrons. Serena was crying hysterically. Three men stumbled out of the tavern, assessing the situation: the sober boy, the sobbing girl in the patchwork dress, and the irate, smashed man about to rape her. They stared uneasily at one another. It was one thing to pay for a girl. It was another thing to take her without her consent. Two of the men hauled Marcus off Serena, while the third said:

"I think you've had enough for tonight, mate."

Marcus stared at the other men, incredulous.

"But I-"

"Go home, Marcus. And don't come back until you stop shoving the girls around," the tavern owner said flatly. His arms were crossed, and he stood behind the third man, whom he had followed outside when he heard the ruckus.

Without looking at her, the owner added, "You've got the night off. Give the man his money back." A still-weeping Serena obeyed, fishing the gold out of a pocket and practically throwing it to Marcus. Felix reached for Marcus, ready to guide the man home, but his stepfather shoved him off and stalked away.

Felix sighed, and followed him.

When they reached the cottage they called home, Marcus nearly ripped the door off his hinges. Felix's mother's mouth dropped open. She jumped to her feet:

"Marcus, what in Ozma's name happened?"

The man immediately slapped her as hard as he could, "Your bastard of a son happened! Felix made a fool of me in front of everyone."

Felix ran to his mother's side, pulling her out of Marcus' reach.

"You did that yourself, stepfather," he retorted, examining the growing bruise on Nimmie's cheek. It was already a nasty black and blue.

"I did no such thing!" Marcus snarled, "He insulted me! Mocked me!"

"You were trying to rape her!" Felix snapped, unable to keep his anger in check. All he could see was Serena, crying in her ripped dress, and scared out of her mind. He flexed his fists tightly.

Felix's mother was horrified, "Marcus! You couldn't! You didn't…" she held a shaking hand to her mouth.

"I paid for the bitch," the man replied, "She took my money, and when I went looking for her, she's sitting outside with your brat. Smiling at him, holding his hand…" Marcus shook his head, "I was only taking what I paid for, and what does he do? Pulls me away, shouts, and now I'm banned from the tavern. I use my wages to feed you!" he snarled at Felix, "I train you so you can have a job! You ungrateful swot!"

"Marcus," Nimmie laid her own hand on the man's arm, trying to diffuse the tension, "Felix and I are both grateful for what you do-"

"Oh, shut up, Nimmie! The only reason I helped you and your brat was because you whored yourself out to me. Your beauty's long gone, and you are a worthless slut," he struck her across the face, and she shrieked at the force behind the blow.

At that, Felix saw red. He rushed Marcus, "My mother is not a slut!" In response, Marcus laughed, then punched the boy in the face. Felix fell to the ground, his head pounding. He put a hand to his nose, and it came away covered in blood.

He was still staring at his hand when he heard the words, as if from a nightmare:

"Oh, is that what you think?" Marcus said cruelly, "I bet she told you a fairy story, how I gallantly saved you both after poor Nick met his end. But that never happened," he turned his anger on his wife, "Should you tell him, Nimmie? Or should I? How shameless you were? Not a month after your beloved Nick was dead and buried and you were on your knees in front of me." Slowly, Felix raised his head, and he struggled to stop the spinning of his vision. What he could see was that Marcus had his mother by the throat. Tears streamed down her face, and she was choking.

"You made the same sounds then, too. I liked it," Marcus taunted her, leaning in towards her, "though that was a mistake. You were a mistake." Then he threw her into the side of the cottage. Felix screamed as her head fell backwards, smacking against the wall. Blood trailed behind her as his mother's body slumped to the floor, eyes lifeless.

"Mother?" Felix queried. When she didn't answer, he dragged himself towards her. He gazed at her face, then cradled her in his lap.

"Mother?" his voice cracked on the word, "Please, talk to me. Please. Mother? Mother!" He ran one hand through her hair, and almost vomited as it came away in blood again- though now it was hers and his together.

"Stop your mewling, boy," Marcus said, "She won't wake up, no matter how many times you beg," he shrugged, "I didn't mean to hit her that hard; means I'll have to make my own food now. Oh, well."

She's dead, the realization hit Felix like a ton of bricks, He killed her. He killed her. Felix began to shake, an incredible, unfathomable rage filling him. Gently, he placed his mother's head on the wooden floor of their cottage. Then he stared at Marcus. The man had the gall to be taking another swig from a bottle of poppy ale he'd stashed in a cabinet, utterly unrepentant.

"I'll kill you," Felix whispered. Then he leapt to his feet, "I'LL KILL YOU!" He ran towards Marcus, yanking the bottle out of his hand. Surprised by the assault, Marcus' eyes widened as his stepson's fist connected with his left eye. He staggered backwards, then roared in fury. He went for Felix, grabbing his shoulders. Marcus tried to push him into the wall, but Felix kicked him. The man swore as Felix went to punch him once more. He gripped both of the boy's hands in his, and the two pushed against each other, each fighting for dominance.

"What do you think you're going to do?" Marcus jeered, "Fighting me won't bring her back. Besides, you can't beat me." He could feel Felix start to falter under his superior strength, and the larger man pressed his advantage.

"What makes you so sure about that?" Felix demanded, "because I don't just plan to beat you. I plan to kill you. I plan to kill you, and then I'm going to tear your body into pieces!" He stepped backwards, getting Marcus off-balance, then elbowed him hard in the back. His stepfather laughed again.

"What, like I did to your father?"

Felix's jaw dropped, "What are you talking about?"

"In Ozma's name, are you really that stupid?" Marcus asked, "Your mother might not look like much, especially now," he jerked his chin towards her body, "but back then," he licked his lips lasciviously, "she was irresistible. Everyone said so, and your dear father and I both wanted her," Marcus' face darkened, "Then the war started, and she chose him. The wedding was the night before we had to report to the king's army. We met the Eastern Queen's forces fairly quick. Some of us were smarter than others, and we joined her-"

"You betrayed the king?"

"No, boy. I served- and still do serve -the true queen. Why do you think I'm the one man in this town who still has his arms and legs?" Marcus shook his head, "Your father refused her offer, and said I was a fool even to consider it. I never told him I accepted it, of course.

"In either case, Her Majesty and I made a deal. I'd serve her, and she'd make Nick so awful Nimmie would never want him again. The next battle we were in, your father lost his arms, his legs, and was horribly disfigured. He was useless, as a soldier and as a man, and the king sent us home as a result. Nick told Nimmie he'd release her from their marriage, but wouldn't you know your mother still wanted him?" Marcus was livid, even at the memory, "She asked me to make him arms and legs of tin. So I did, but I told the Eastern Queen what happened. Her Majesty said that she'd fulfill her promise to me, and she told me exactly what had to be done. So you see, one day, while Nick was out in the woods, I followed him-"

"No," Felix murmured, unable to even consider what he was hearing.

"-and when he was all alone, just him and his axe, I took it," Marcus recounted the tale almost with fondness, "and I hacked him to pieces. Cut through his chest, his neck, his veins, slicing off one part at a time, with his own bloody axe."

"You were his best friend," Felix whispered, staring at his stepfather in shock.

"War does funny things to people, boy," Marcus explained, "and when you see people dying all around you, your own life starts to get more and more attractive. Your father was going to throw his life away by choosing the losing side, and he was going to throw away mine too by dragging me with him. He already took the woman I wanted. I wouldn't let him take my life."

"I don't know what the war did to you, Marcus, but you're sick. My father," Felix said through gritted teeth, "was honorable. He was loyal to the king, and he was loyal to you. He would never have wanted you to die."

The man retorted, "Nick wasn't a real friend. He just wanted to take, and take, and take- but I wouldn't let him. Not anymore. You should have seen his face when I killed him," Marcus, even in the middle of his crazed rant, managed to look rational for a moment as he cocked his head, "though I guess you can, any time you look in a mirror. You look like him, you know. And it's because of that I know I'll beat you. I'm going after Nick all over again, just younger and weaker-"

At last, Felix snapped out of his horrified daze, "You were so jealous that you betrayed the king, betrayed my father, and then killed him so you could have my mother for yourself? And then you killed her because you were tired of her?"

Marcus shrugged, "I suppose that's one way of putting it."

Felix couldn't bear to hear another word. He launched himself at his stepfather, raining down blows, trying to get in strikes wherever he could. Marcus, in his drunken stupor, seemed to find the entire thing hilarious. He laughed, matching Felix hit for hit. Felix was vaguely aware his nose was broken, and that Marcus must have retrieved the bottle of poppy ale from the table where Felix had placed it before, because something smashed over his head. Blood dripped in his eyes, ale stinging the cuts on his scalp as glass littered the floor.

Just then, Felix slipped on a piece of glass. He fell onto his back, shards of glass digging through his clothes. Marcus immediately dropped down next to him, putting a knife to his throat.

"Finally," the man said with relish, "I can get rid of you, too." Felix braced himself, but the slice of the knife didn't come. Instead, Marcus grunted with shock and pain as he was kicked across the room. Felix instantly stood up, looking left and right for a weapon, not caring who had saved his life- he just wanted to kill Marcus. Felix wasn't carrying a knife, but- there! He dashed to the door of the forge adjoining their cottage, grabbing a hammer. Then he stalked back into the main room, where Marcus was just getting up. Felix hauled him to his feet, then pushed his stepfather against the wall.

"No," Felix told the man, a strange adrenaline filling him, "I can get rid of you." Then he raised the hammer and smashed it into his stepfather's head. Over and over again. Marcus' shouts and screams, his pleas for mercy, went unheard. Felix simply continued to ram the hammer into Marcus' skull until the only sound left in the room was the cracking of bone.

"I think it's safe to say you got rid of him," a calm voice interjected.

Felix spun around in shock. A boy with blonde hair and green eyes stood next to his mother's body. Somehow, he was surrounded by shadow, even though the cottage was lit by candles.

"I'm Peter Pan," he extended a hand to Felix, though the boy didn't take it. He stared at Pan- who must have been the one to save him- and noted:

"I haven't seen you before." Such a thing was impossible. No one left their villages here, not without the Witch's permission. Besides, this boy wasn't dressed like any Ozian he'd ever seen. He wore a combination of green leaves and leather, and he carried a glinting silver dagger at his waist.

Peter shrugged, "You weren't lost before. Angry, maybe. Miserable, definitely- but not lost," he paused, "Shall we bury her, then? I don't think he deserves anything," Pan snorted derisively at Marcus' body, "but it sounded like you loved her very much."

Numbly, Felix nodded. Disbelievingly, he carefully lifted his mother's body in his arms. Peter followed him from the cottage. Felix wandered into the forest, seeking out a glade he knew his mother had liked to sit in on the few sunny days she wasn't working (or trying to work). It was harder in the darkness, but he still managed to find it. He sighed, then realized he didn't have a shovel. He turned to go back, but wordlessly, Pan handed him one. Felix didn't think to ask where he'd retrieved one at the time- all he cared about was burying his mother -though later he would realize it was magic. Felix accepted the shovel, and Peter, somehow discerning it was cathartic for Felix, let him dig the grave alone and unaided by either physical or magical means. Felix wept silently.

When at last he had run out of tears, he pulled himself up from the grave. He looked back and forth from Pan to his mother's body. Her wounds were gone, and she wore a pale green silk dress. Her hair was combed in neat curls, and the lines of worry and pain were gone from her face. She was laid out in a coffin of pure crystal.

"How did you…?" Felix asked, stunned, "Are you a warlock? Does the Witch know you're here?"

Peter laughed, "No, I'm not a warlock, and yes, she does. She's presently dealing with your Witch of the South. The problems of one boy are beneath her notice. However, they are not beneath mine."

Felix stared at him and asked again, "Who are you?"

"I'm Peter Pan," Pan stated, "and I help those who are Lost, like you. I can teach you to fight- though you were doing an excellent job by yourself -or I can take you away from Oz forever, if you wish it. I rule a world called Neverland, and-"

Before Pan could finish his speech, Felix cut him off, "I'll go."

"What?"

"I'll go," Felix said, decision firm, "Now that we've buried my mother, I want to leave and never come back. There's nothing for me in Oz anymore."

---

Tinkerbell's jaw dropped, "Oh my God, Felix. I'm so sorry. So, so, sorry." She threw herself into his arms, and he sighed, breathing in her scent. She smelled of lilacs, and he found the smell comforting.

"It's not your fault," she told him, "You know that, right? None of it was your fault. Your stepfather was a horrible man. You and your mother deserved so much better." Inwardly, she wondered why it seemed all the boys she cared for had such dark pasts. It wasn't fair to them.

"We did," Felix attempted a semblance of his normal drawl, although she knew he was trying to hide his roiling emotions, "but it's done. It's over, and I don't want to go back, because I don't know if anything's changed."

Tink froze, "Are you…are you worried about Serena?"

Instantly realizing the source of her agitation, Felix held her closer, "No. We were friends, Tink, nothing more. Besides, she said herself she would never leave our village. She was afraid," he swallowed, "and more than likely, she's long dead now."

"I'm sorry," the fairy stated. She wished she could say more, but she didn't know what else she could possibly add to lessen his pain, or if that was even possible.

"I know," Felix answered.

---

Peter had acquiesced to Felix's wish, though he didn't seem happy about it. He hardly said a word to Wendy, simply holding her hand in his and leading her down the mansion stairs. He summoned Slightly with a flick of his other hand, and the Lost Boy obediently followed his leader outside the mansion. They walked into the woods, though they avoided the Wishing Well. As the forest swallowed them up, Wendy dropped Peter's hand. Surprised, he looked at her, and she commanded:

"Tell me about Oz." Peter started to roll his eyes, but Wendy held her ground:

"Felix didn't want to go. If you're taking me, I want you to tell me why. What is so bad about Oz that even he won't go?"

Slightly gulped, but Pan interrupted smoothly, "That's Felix's story to tell. But I suppose you should know a bit about the place, considering we'll need our own story for them to accept us. Slightly, perhaps you could enlighten our own Storyteller?"

Wendy was about to protest when Slightly launched into his own explanation, clearly eager to improve Peter's sour mood:

"Oz was once ruled by King Pastoria. He was a good man, and had inherited magical talent. There was talk that his family had fairy blood running through it. I'm not sure, but whether or not it was true, his magical talents were also shared by his four sisters. They got along, and he gave each sister a quadrant of Oz- North, South, East, and West -to govern under his rule. He thought it was unfair he should have everything. Things were peaceful until he had a daughter, Princess Ozma. The sisters liked their niece well-enough, until Pastoria declared that when she turned fourteen, she would gain control over the quadrants, one by one, in order to learn how to rule Oz one day," he shrugged, "The sisters were, of course, displeased. They had poured their lives into their governerships. When Ozma learned of her father's law, she told her aunts they'd be nothing but spinsters, and lose all their importance. The people wouldn't care about them any longer."

Wendy grimaced, "I imagine that didn't go over well."

"Not well at all," Slightly agreed, "Civil war broke out, with each of the sisters against their brother. Pastoria knew that to defeat his sisters, he would need to fight them himself. He called all able-bodied men to his army, and the sisters called on the men in their quadrants to fight for them instead. Before the king left the Emerald City, he cast a spell on it so it couldn't be breached by anyone in their world. He thought if the worst happened and he died- which he did -at least his daughter would be safe in the capital.

"Now, Oz is ruled, at least in name, by Princess Ozma-"

"What do you mean, 'in name?'" Wendy asked, but this time, it was Peter who answered her:

"In reality, it's ruled by the four sisters- four witches -each of which is fighting amongst the other for supremacy. They do, however, agree on one thing: if they want to rule, Ozma cannot be allowed to grow up to fight them. They've used a spell on her to keep her frozen at age thirteen."

"Like Neverland?" Wendy breathed, surprised. She'd thought immortality a feature unique to Neverland.

"No," Slightly shook his head, "In Neverland, people choose to be immortal, and they remain themselves. Ozma isn't immortal- not truly. She's stuck. She didn't choose her status. Additionally, she's not herself. She exhibits all the worst aspects of a thirteen year old girl. Her personality is completely warped."

"Then why not just kill her?" Wendy asked, "If she's not actually immortal. I mean, if the witches killed her, then they could fight amongst themselves for the throne," she bit her lip, "since I assume each one wants to be the sole queen of Oz now, right?"

Peter replied, "There's a treaty that any monarch of Oz has to be crowned in the Emerald City to be a valid ruler. If no such ruler exists, the kingdom of Oz is ceded to Queen Zixi of Ix. Obviously, the witches don't want that to happen. So their first priority is to keep Ozma from reaching her age of majority when she could legally rule, their second is breaking the spell over the Emerald City, and their third priority is killing Ozma and each other. They can't attempt the third without accomplishing the other two, though. Additionally, they're preoccupied not only fighting themselves, but the fairy queen of Oz, Lurline. Lurline is fighting to keep Ozma on the throne, and in doing so, she distracts the witches. The witches won't fight Lurline together. I don't know why," Pan snorted, "It would be the most expedient route to get rid of their shared enemy, as well as an easy way to get rid of each other so there is only one, undisputed claimant to the throne," he shrugged, "In either case, Lurline keeps the witches from trying to break the spell over the Emerald City and kill the princess. Since they can't get into the city, the witches realized they had to control Ozma herself to keep any control over the world- the citizens in their own quadrants came to hate them because they believed the witches didn't care about their lives and would sacrifice them so the winner could assume the throne. So the witches found a man who happened to travel to Oz at just the wrong time- a man who came from the Land Without Magic."

"The Wizard of Oz?"

At Wendy's quick deduction, Peter grinned, "The Ozians thought he was a wizard. He was the only one able to get into the Emerald City and bypass Pastoria's spell. Unfortunately, the man's no wizard- just an apothecary -and the witches got to him before he could get to the city: they told him he'd only be allowed to keep his life if he smuggled a magical elixir into the city with him, and put it into Ozma's drink within three days. If Ozma drank the elixir, then she would fall under the witches' spell. If he didn't…a curse would rebound on him and he would die. The 'wizard' did as they asked, and now both he and Ozma are prisoners within the city. She is in thrall to the Witches. He serves as a spy for the witches, as well as routinely dumps drugs into the populace's food and drink so they don't realize the truth about Ozma- both conditions of him keeping his life."

"Oh," Wendy said sadly, "I suppose that's...a bit different from the book in the library." When she went to the library to do her homework in peace- back before her brothers had betrayed her and she felt relatively free to move around town -she'd often perused the books in its stacks. It was done partly as a break, and partly because she could not resist a good story. Also, she had been morbidly curious about how the Land Without Magic described her own life. When she'd learned of its rather shallow, trite, and mostly incorrect account, she'd become rather depressed and desperately needed to read something, anything, that would raise her spirits. "The Wizard of Oz," appealed to her, and so it was one of the tomes she'd read to improve her mood. Apparently, it was just as incorrect- and filled with the potential for bloodshed -as her own tale had been.

Slightly laughed, "Just a bit. There's more, but-"

"We need to fly, now," Pan interrupted, "Regina doesn't know yet that we know what she did. I don't want to waste that advantage. Let's go."

Peter grabbed Wendy's hand tighter, as he had once, long ago in Neverland- though unlike before, he didn't remove her Shadow or his. He also reached for Slightly's hand, who, noticing Peter's mood had greatly improved after hearing Wendy's somewhat morbid questions, gave his friend some good-natured ribbing:

"Aw, mate, I didn't know you cared."

Pan rolled his eyes, "Shut up, Slightly. I don't have pixie dust, and unless you want to go careening through the universe and get lost forever, you'll take my hand."

The Lost Boy muttered, "I was only joking," but took Pan's hand nonetheless.

Peter ignored the insubordination, entirely focused on his mission. Instead, he looked towards the sky, rose into the air, and shouted: "Three!"

Wendy felt the familiar pulling sensation as stars warped around her, and space sucked the trio in. Peter and Slightly shouted with exhilaration. Pan, of course, flew straight and easily, even while the magic yanked them forward. Slightly was a bit more awkward, but he grinned as he threw in a few flips here and there. Wendy, not as practiced in flying as they had been (even though she had received flying lessons), tumbled over and over without any control whatsoever, screaming in terror.

Just when she thought she might lose the others, even though Peter's fingers were loosely tied around her own, they were sucked out of the blackness and into Oz. Peter tightened his grip on Wendy's hand, stopping her spinning. He seemed surprised that she'd been tumbling about at all, which Wendy thought spoke volumes. He normally was hypersensitive to her; for him to not realize she'd been flying completely out of control demonstrated how much he enjoyed his journey through their stars.

Slowly, they descended to the ground. Peter deposited Wendy and Slightly on a road made of yellow brick. It led directly to a massive city made of green- the legendary Emerald City -a city that apparently only they, as foreigners from another world, could enter. Wendy took a step towards it, utterly enchanted, but Peter pulled her back:

"Wait. They won't give up Henry. Henry doesn't even remember who he is. We need a story to get them to let us view all the boys in Oz," he grinned cockily, "Luckily, I've already got one."

"Of course you do," Wendy said. Despite herself, she couldn't help but recall a time in Neverland where she'd told him, hysterically, "You'll always, always, have power."

Peter smirked, "I've visited Oz many times. They call me a 'star traveler' in the Emerald City. We're going to tell them the same about you. However, they are going to want to know more about you, especially Ozma, so you two must have backstories that are plausible not only for you to travel here, but also plausible to explain that you desperately need Henry."

Wendy recognized his "plan" was rather an elaborate game of pretend, and asked, "All right. So who exactly are Slightly and I?"

---

"Who exactly are you?" the boy demanded. Bae, seated on the nursery floor, hung his head as John Darling angrily poked him with an umbrella (apparently the only device he could come up with to hurt him at the moment).

"My name's Bae," Bae mumbled. John promptly hit him over the head with the umbrella and snapped:

"I know that! You told us that last time! But you're not an orphan, are you?" His eyes blazed.

"Yes, I am," Bae protested feebly. It was true. His papa, for all intents and purposes, was dead. He'd chosen magic over Bae, and as for his mother, she was gone too. He had no one, except the Darlings. If he lost the Darlings, he really would have nothing. No one would care if he lived or died- though, he supposed, would Mrs. Darling even want to see him now that Wendy was gone?

"Where're you from?" the smaller boy asked. Michael Darling held his teddy bear close to him, tears streaming down his face. He was nowhere near as articulate as his brother, but he too knew Bae was a liar.

"It doesn't matter," Bae insisted, "but I promise you, I'm an orphan."

"You're wrong," Michael replied, lower lip trembling, "You're wrong!"

"Michael's right," John said, completely livid, "If it wasn't for you, Wendy would never have met the Shadow. If it wasn't for you, she never would have gone to Neverland…she would be here with us. Now…she'll never come back, will she?" at John's tirade, Bae only hung his head lower, "Will she?"

"I'm going to get her," Baelfire said feebly, fighting back tears of his own, "I will. I'll find a way. Magic got her there, and magic," he grimaced at the thought, "magic can help. I'll use magic, one more time-" One more time, he thought, for Wendy. Then never again.

"You will not," John snarled, "You told us a long time ago that magic was bad. That it destroyed your family. Now- now it's destroyed ours," a tear fell down his cheek, which he hurriedly wiped away, "It can't help. Magic only hurts-"

Bae sighed, "Not all magic. True love is the greatest magic of all. That can help." Or so he hoped.

Michael cocked his head, "Are you in love with Wendy?" He walked towards the taller boy, confused. He heard of true love as being between princes and princesses (at least in Wendy's stories). Baelfire wasn't a prince…or he didn't look like one. What kind of prince rummaged for bread on the streets and stole from houses?

Bae blushed, but shook his head, "No, Michael, but there are different kinds of love. I love Wendy like a sister-"

"But she's not your sister!" John yelled, "She's our sister!" he bent down so he was at Baelfire's height, "Don't say you love her. If you did, you wouldn't have brought magic here. Now she's gone, and it's all your fault!" He shook Bae by the shoulders, practically pushing him over.

"No," Baelfire protested, "It's not my fault, John. Don't say that!" He managed to regain his balance, and John whirled away, riposting:

"Why not? It's true! You brought magic here! You did it, even though you said it was bad!"

"I didn't mean to!" Bae said, desperate to convince the brothers he never wanted to hurt them, "I wanted to keep you all safe." It was true. Why else would he step forward and sacrifice himself to the Shadow and take Michael's place to begin with? He loved them all. They had become his family. He never wanted anything to hurt them, magic included.

"But you didn't," Michael whimpered. The tears that already coated his face began to fall faster and faster. Bae's heart, already broken by the realization that Wendy went to Neverland for him, cracked even further at the little boy's weeping.

"I tried, but-"

"No," John insisted, "Stop, Bae, if that's even your real name. Just- stop. I don't want to see you…or your magic…ever again. Get out of here." He grabbed Bae by the shoulder once more and yanked him to his feet.

"What?" Baelfire gasped as John used his umbrella to herd him towards the window, "John, wait! Where will I go?"

"I don't care where you go! I don't care about you! Don't you get it? I just care about my sister! I care about Wendy!" John fumed. He was seething, and he felt as though his very blood was boiling. How dare Baelfire insist he was innocent? How dare he say he wanted to protect their family? How dare he object to leaving when he was the cause of all this?

Through his tears, Michael mumbled, "I want Wendy to come home, John. I want Wendy home."

John cast a glance at his crying brother, then turned back to Bae, his face contorted in a rage far behind his years, "We're going to bring my sister home. And we don't need you, or magic, to do it. Get out, Bae," he paused, "You climb out that window on your own or I shove you out. Your choice."

Bae's eyes widened, "John, you'reten years old! Would you really kill me?" Even in the Enchanted Forest, most murderers were adults.

John retorted, "Mother says I'm mature for my age. Don't underestimate me, Bae. I'll kill you, and I'll kill your stupid magic. I just want Wendy back!" To punctuate this statement, he jabbed Baelfire again with his umbrella:

"Last chance, Baelfire. Get out of here, and don't come back!"

Bae sighed, heart heavy, "Fine. Tell your parents…tell them…tell them thank you for taking care of me." He didn't dare say more. He carefully swung his leg out the window, then his hands, doing his best to find purchase on the roof and figure out how to make it to the streets again.

John, for his part, slammed the window down and yanked the curtains shut. He didn't want any reminders of Baelfire. In fact, he wished the boy was dead.

John was brought out of his fury by Michael tugging at his hand, "John…what do we do now?"

"We do just what I said," John answered, "Come on, Michael." He led his brother down the stairs of their home, cautiously avoiding the parts of the floor that creaked. He didn't want to disturb their mother any more than she already was. Since her daughter's disappearance, she'd been sobbing nonstop. Both brothers had no idea that humans could make so many tears, but it seemed their mother had an infinite supply. George Darling, for his part, had no idea how to comfort his wife. In truth, he had no idea how to comfort himself. As hard as he was on his children, he loved them deeply, and the loss of his daughter had hit him particularly hard. When Mary Darling finally cried herself to sleep in his arms, George would gently sneak out of bed. First he always checked on his remaining two boys. Then he wandered about the house, eventually sitting in the parlor, staring at the window and wondering where Wendy had disappeared to. It was only then that he himself cried.

He hadn't slept for months, and it had affected his job prospects. The once promising banker was days away from losing his job. He didn't dare tell his family, but he feared they would have to leave their home soon. And it was the last thing he wanted to do, for what if, one day, Wendy did come back? How would she even know where they'd gone?

So George Darling spent his nights, completely sleepless, neglecting the work in his office.

Thus it was he had no idea his two boys crept into the office. It was a small room, but the centerpiece was a desk made of dark wood. A green lamp illuminated the few accoutrements the room contained- some banking tomes on the bookshelf, pens strewn in a perpetually open drawer, and a typewriter that should have been filled with figures weeks ago.

John and Michael closed the door softly behind them, then turned on the light. A dim glow barely lit up the typewriter. It wasn't ideal, but the boys feared that any greater light would attract the attention of their parents- or worse, the Shadow, if the thing ever returned.

John pulled back his father's chair, then seated himself in it, regal as a king.

"All right, Michael, push me in." The little boy obliged, both brothers wincing as the chair scraped a bit across the floor.

"Keep quiet, will you?" John admonished his brother. The last thing he needed was Michael sabotaging their chance to find Wendy.

"Sorry, John. What about me?"

"Get the stool in the corner," John said dismissively. Michael pursed his lips, but obeyed. He dragged a three-legged stool towards the desk, just managing to get a view of John as he put a fresh sheet into the typewriter.

"What are you doing?"

"I was serious before. We're going to bring Wendy home, but we're going to need some help to do it. We can't be the only ones hurt by magic, can we?" John postulated. With that, he began to type:

Esteemed Sirs and Madams,

The Home Office hopes this letter finds you well…

---

"Peter!" a voice, clearly that of a young girl, shrieked. She was shorter than Wendy, with red-gold hair in perfect curls and bright blue eyes. Gowned in cloth of gold lined with emeralds and diamonds, she hurtled off her throne towards the group and tossed her golden scepter aside to a startled, green-garbed guard. She threw her arms around the older boy, who casually returned the hug. Her eyes were closed in delirious happiness, but when they opened, they fell on Slightly and Wendy. Her blue eyes, which were previously filled with utter joy, narrowed. The girl released Peter, then demanded:

"Who is she?"

Wendy bristled at the accusation, and was even more annoyed at Pan's blasé reply:

"This is Princess Gwendolyn of London. We call her Wendy."

"She has a nickname?" the girl said, absolutely disgusted.

"Well, not everyone can have a name that conveys its loveliness in such a short length as you, Ozma," Peter smiled at the princess, and kissed her hand. Instantly, Ozma was placated, though she still regarded Wendy with suspicion.

"This is her bodyguard, Sir Ian Eton," Peter continued, as Slightly swept Ozma an elegant bow, "Both have asked for my assistance in finding her brother, Prince Henry."

"I see," Ozma replied slowly, "Well, come into the throne room, and we can talk about Wendy's brother." She turned around, linking her arm through Pan's, and walked back towards her throne. The height contrast between the two was startling, but the way Ozma leaned against him was clearly possessive.

Well, Wendy thought darkly, I can see what they meant about "worst aspects of a thirteen year old girl." She tried not to let it get to her, but after Ozma had settled back in her throne, requesting that someone bring a chair for Peter at once, she couldn't help but snap:

"Your Highness."

"I'm sorry?" Ozma blinked, staring at Wendy. She had been whispering in Pan's ear- and he was doing an excellent impression of a rapt listener; at least, Wendy thought it was an impression -and the fact Wendy had interrupted her threw her. No one interrupted the princess of Oz.

"You will call me Your Highness. Not Wendy," the girl stated through gritted teeth. Her hands were clenched into fists.

Ozma leaned back in her throne, letting her own hands rest comfortably on the armrests. She smiled, though there was little warmth in it, "And why should I do that?"

"Because I'm a princess," Wendy retorted, "same as you." Although Wendy was entirely focused on Ozma, Slightly had been watching the exchange between all three. He crossed his arms, just managing to resist the urge to whistle at Wendy's and Ozma's blooming dislike. He also felt a chill run down his spine when he noticed Pan's reaction: at Wendy's declaration, a dark fire had alit in his eyes, and he'd smirked in pleasure. The second Ozma turned to Pan though, his face had instantly morphed into a bland smile, his eyes seemingly filled with delight at meeting her again.

"No," Ozma answered lightly, reaching for the scepter a guard handed to her with a bow, "Not same as me. You see, Wendy," she placed extra stress on the name, "You are in my world. The only one who receives a title in Oz is me. It's a matter of respect, after all. And then you need my help finding your brother. I don't need anything from you," she smiled, this time a true one, "so you will call me 'Your Highness.'"

Wendy jerked her chin at Peter, "He calls you Ozma."

"Peter," Ozma gazed at him in adoration, "is a very old, very dear...friend," the way she lingered over the word "friend" showed how much more she viewed him as, and how much more she wanted him to be, "He gets certain privileges no one else does."

Wendy paused for a moment, trying to remind herself she was speaking to a cursed thirteen year old. This nasty child was likely not the personality of the real Ozma. It couldn't be, not if a fairy queen was fighting for her freedom. It wouldn't be fair to be cruel to her, not when the girl couldn't control what she said.

Still, Wendy couldn't help herself. She stood ramrod straight, and stated:

"You are right- I do need your help. And I expect you will aid me in this task, as any good ruler would- and Peter assures me you are a great ruler," Ozma smiled at Wendy's praise, but the smile quickly vanished at her next comment, "and you're right: we're not the same. You're a princess now, and you'll stay a princess forever. But me? I'll be a queen."

Ozma's jaw dropped, and she flushed with anger. The princess stood, ready to shout insults at Wendy, but Peter stood also, lacing his fingers through hers, and Ozma became distracted by his magnetic presence- as she herself had once been, Wendy remembered uncomfortably.

"I'm afraid that's not true," Pan soothed the irate princess, "not if you help us, anyway. Ozma, Wendy's brother is the heir to her kingdom. He's gone missing, and we fear he's been kidnapped and taken here by dark magic. His name is Henry, and he looks like this," Peter, somehow produced the familiar piece of parchment with a flourish (how, Wendy couldn't figure out- he'd told her he no longer had any magic except that to fly. So how could he do this?) and presented it to Ozma, "but his memories have been stolen. He may not remember who he is."

As Peter guided her back to her throne, Ozma mused, "But why would they want to take him here? And what would they hope to do to him?"

Slightly spoke up, "Your Highness, unlike your beautiful world, ours is plagued by war. The king died suddenly, and Henry is his heir. However, Henry is below the age of majority, and he isn't able to defend himself. Many are trying to steal the throne from him, and many are dead. We Loyalists are searching for him, desperately, but just as desperately are the Rebels hoping he'll disappear. What better way to ensure we never find him than send him to a different world?" he shook his head, for all appearances the contrite, mourning knight, "They took him using stolen magic beans. We chased after him, but we were able to see only the green spires of your own stunning Oz before the portal closed."

Wendy rolled her eyes at Slightly's ostentatious flattery- she thought he'd been laying it on a bit thick -but it was clear that both Peter and Slightly were doing this on purpose. Ozma practically preened under their attention. An insecure thirteen year old princess was being praised by two older, handsome boys, one a dashing knight, the other a magical being whom she dreamt would be her king. She loved it, and Wendy realized that Peter and Slightly were doing exactly what they knew would guarantee Ozma's aid. Wendy considered helping them, but she wasn't sure she could bring herself to flatter the princess. Aside from that, she was still ambivalent about the whole affair. Wendy didn't want Henry to die. But she didn't want to be locked up in a jail cell either.

"We were utterly devastated," Slightly continued, "until Peter visited our world. We told him of our plight, and he, being the brave star-traveler, told us his own story, and pledged to assist us."

"That still doesn't answer the question," Ozma repeated, "of what they would hope to do to him." It was only a second, but her eyes flashed pink. The hairs on Wendy's neck stood on end. Before, Ozma's cursed personality had been present, though relatively independent- now, someone was using her as a vessel. Someone was watching them.

One of the witches! Wendy thought with horror.

At this, Wendy jumped in, realizing she had to add her part to the play for it to be realistic- at least for the witch watching the scenario:

"They would hope to abandon him here forever, and by taking away his memories, keep him from ever trying to return and reclaim his throne. With him gone, that leaves me a target. A Rebel would marry me to legitimize his claim," Wendy pretended to tremble with horror at the thought, "but keeping Henry alive in Oz would also relieve them of any guilt about potentially murdering a ten year old boy. So you see, we need my brother back-"

"Why couldn't you just rule?"

Wendy swallowed, thinking on her feet, "In my land, only men can be kings...which is why getting rid of Henry is so important to them. But men can marry into the royal family by marrying a princess. If my brother was gone, and a Rebel married me, he would be made king automatically."

"So what is it, exactly, that you want?" Ozma's eyes flashed pink again, and she sat back on her throne, withdrawing her hands from Peter completely. If Wendy had any doubt a witch watched them, it was gone now. Ozma had stopped paying attention to Peter entirely. Interestingly, Pan, catlike, moved backwards into the shadows- so Ozma couldn't see him, Wendy realized. He was wary of whatever was interrogating them.

"We want to save Prince Henry, and have his memories returned to him. Then we want to return to our world, eternally grateful for the kindness of Her Highness, Princess Ozma," Slightly supplied. His hand drifted to his belt, though he managed to cover his desire to reach for his dagger by bowing again.

Ozma raised an eyebrow, then commanded, "Leave us." Flicking her hand, she dismissed all of the courtiers and guards from her throne room, and they departed. None seemed to have noticed the abrupt change in her demeanor- but then again, how would they? Ozma was cursed, and probably had been for ages. They would no doubt put it up to mood swings. And as for her eternal, youthful princesshood? Simply a sign she should rule. Or at least the drugs would ensure they thought that.

Once they were alone, Ozma stared at Wendy and Slightly. Despite herself, Wendy almost withered under her gaze. The princess did not even blink. Her eyes merely flashed pink every now and again. Then she raised her right hand towards them, opening her mouth. Before she could do whatever she intended- Wendy suspected it was probably cast a spell to kill them; the witch had obviously recognized that they were here via foreign magic, and perceived them as a threat -Peter slipped around the front of the throne again. He took Ozma's hand, kissed it, then smirked:

"Glinda. Aren't you going to introduce yourself properly?"

Ozma's eyes widened, and then she threw Peter's hands away. When she spoke again, her voice was different:

"Star-traveler. We told you not to return."

"And I told you to stop hurting these people," Peter replied, "It appears we are both bad listeners."

The princess' lips curled into a sneer, "You always were insufferably arrogant."

"And you are insufferably stupid," Pan retorted instantly, "We want to leave Oz. You heard our terms. We require this boy." He proffered the parchment to Ozma, and she ran her nails over it, her mannerisms far more adult than was appropriate for a thirteen year old. She was entirely possessed by the witch now. Wendy and Slightly exchanged uneasy glances.

"You promise not to return to Oz if I give you this boy?" Ozma- or rather Glinda-through-Ozma -asked.

"You and I both know that I don't make deals unless I'm absolutely sure the other party can deliver," Peter stared back at the princess- who still had yet to blink. She was just creepy.

"Very well," Glinda-through-Ozma said, her tone dripping with disdain, "How do you suggest we find this boy? If his memories are missing, I cannot use my magic to find him."

Pan scoffed, "Do you even have magic to spare? Last I checked you were dealing with three other witches, plus Lurline and her army," Glinda-through-Ozma narrowed her eyes, but he continued, entirely unabashed, "Have Ozma hold a ball. Invite all boys in the Emerald City aged ten to seventeen to attend. There will be an archery contest, and the lucky winner can claim his prize of becoming Ozma's king."

Glinda-through-Ozma retorted, "Absolutely not. I won't condone giving Oz another false ruler."

"You won't have to," Peter replied easily, "I'm going to win, and I have zero desire to marry Ozma, or to stay here. I just want to find the boy. The easiest way to do that is to gather them all in one place so I can get a look at them. Remember, Glinda, he doesn't have his memories."

"You would say no to ruling Oz?" Glinda-through Ozma asked doubtfully. It was, after all, everything the witch wanted.

At that, Peter laughed cruelly, "I've my own world to rule, and I much prefer it to this one. The prize only says the winner can claim the kingship, which I have no intention of doing, I assure you."

"If you don't want to rule Oz, what do you want the boy for? And how can you be certain he'll be in the Emerald City?" Glinda-through-Ozma inquired.

Pan replied, "Just what my fellow star-travelers told you. He's a prince and his kingdom's in turmoil without him," he grinned- this part was truthful, after all -"I'm certain he'll be in the Emerald City because that's where they'll hide him. They can remove his conscious memories, but there are certain things that cannot be hidden- his bearing, his skill with jousting, his competence at associating with high society. Where else in Oz would you hide such a prince? The Emerald City. He'll have implanted memories to replace the old and his adopted family will have been paid a handsome fee to take him in."

"And you think no one notice?"

"With all due respect, Glinda, the way the Emerald City is enchanted and drugged right now, everyone's far too absorbed in themselves to notice a new child."

"Don't insult me," Glinda-through-Ozma snarled, but Pan shrugged:

"It's the truth. It's how you keep them from noticing your possession of Ozma. I'm not concerned by the drugs you've got your 'wizard' slipping in the people's food and drink. Don't deny how you're conducting your war. In either case, however you're conducting it makes no difference to me."

"If I give you this boy," Glinda-through-Ozma stipulated, obviously sick of listening to his barbs, "If I do this, you'll leave Oz," she sniffed, "I don't want you interfering in our affairs any longer."

Pan smirked and shrugged, the gesture filled with cockiness, "As you say, Glinda. Do we have a deal?"

"Fine," Glinda-through-Ozma spat, "we have a deal. I'll plant a suggestion in her head for this contest tonight. I want you gone as soon as possible."

"Likewise," Peter agreed, "Shall we part now? I do so enjoy our chats, Glinda, but I suspect you don't feel the same."

"I pray I never see you again, Peter Pan," then the princess rolled her eyes and shuddered. There was one final pink flash, and then Wendy sensed Glinda was gone. Ozma shook her head, curls shining in the green light of the throne-room.

"Peter!" she clapped her hands like the child she was, "I've just had the most wonderful idea!"

"Oh?" Pan feigned interest, "What is it? I'm sure it's a fantastic one."

"It's been so long since I've seen you," Ozma whined, "We should celebrate your return!"

"Nothing would make me happier, but Ozma," Peter said regretfully, "I made a promise to Wendy and Sir Ian. I must find her brother, and quickly."

"That's easy," Ozma replied flippantly, "We'll just invite all the boys in the Emerald City. And- ooh!" she clapped her hands again, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet, "We can have a contest!" she glanced at Peter, blushing, "An archery contest. Whoever wins, well..."

"Well?" he prompted, and she added, "He will be the one who wins my heart and proves to be worthy to be king of Oz."

Wendy fought the urge to vomit.

This isn't really Ozma, she reminded herself, She's cursed.

"You will compete, won't you, Peter?" Ozma asked hopefully.

Pan smiled at her, pouring all his charm into his reply, "Of course."

---

Wendy and Slightly were shown to a room far, far away from Ozma's. Peter, naturally, was shown to a massive suite next to hers. There wasn't much to do but wait for Ozma's ball, and Peter's trap. In the meantime, they whiled away the hours by examining the various clothes servants had brought for them to wear ("It's forbidden for anyone but Her Highness the Princess Ozma to wear clothes that aren't green in the Emerald City," they had been informed). Slightly had been given no less than twenty handsome outfits that were variations of the palace guards' uniform. Wendy had been given five gowns that ranged from ugly to hideous.

"Which of these is the least painful?" Wendy spread the gowns on the bed. The colors went from a sickly yellow-green to a green so dark it was almost black. Some were spangled with sequins in horrendous patterns. Others were plainly falling apart.

Slightly appraised them, struggling not to laugh, "I guess...this one." He pointed to the one that was a combination of green and black.

"It looks like a moldy rock," Wendy looked at the dress in distaste.

"Trust me," Slightly assured her, "the others are worse."

Wendy sighed, but accepted his judgment. She retreated to the bathroom, gown in tow, and quickly dressed herself in it. Unfortunately, no make-up had been provided, but she scrounged up an old elastic from the bathroom vanity drawer. Frowning at her reflection, she put her hair into a messy bun.

When she emerged, Slightly had dressed himself in the most dashing of the uniforms. Wendy knew she looked even more terrible next to him. That had most likely been Ozma's plan all along, but still.

Slightly covered his smile as he offered her his arm, "Wendy-lady, would you permit me to escort you this evening?"

Wendy took it, "You'd better. I feel like Ozma would kill me if Peter did."

"She wouldn't kill you," Slightly noted, "That would upset Peter, and she knows that. She's got quite the crush on him."

"I hadn't noticed," Wendy response was uncharacteristically sarcastic, but Slightly was unperturbed:

"-she'd definitely string you up though."

"If you're trying to be comforting, Slightly, it's not working," Wendy told him. He opened the door to their room, gesturing for her to leave first. Then he folded her arm through his, the action simple and flawless, and she was reminded again of his past. And Peter's past.

"I'm being honest with you, Wendy," Slightly insisted, "Ozma is jealous of you."

"Why?" Wendy said, incredulous, "If she's the worst a thirteen year old can be, she shouldn't care about me. She's a princess."

"With a crush on Peter Pan, and he's never made her a star-traveler," Slightly pointed out. He gave her a significant look, raising his eyebrows.

"The only reason he made me a star-traveler tonight is to protect me," Wendy recalled as they turned a corner. That's what she thought, anyway. The Charmings would no doubt attempt to get into Regina's mansion when they discovered she'd been broken out of her cell.

"Then why did he take you to Wonderland before?"

Wendy shifted uncomfortably as they reached the great gold doors marking the entrance to the ballroom, "I don't know."

Slightly said nothing more as he led her into the ballroom, and Wendy stifled a gasp. The ceilings were vaulted, and had to be more than fifty feet high. Some appeared to be made of green glass- emerald, she realized. The dance floor was surrounded by columns made of green marble. Beyond the columns were tables of food and refreshments- all green, of course -and guests who mingled and sipped at green drinks.

"Wendy-lady, I'm afraid I must leave you for a few moments," Slightly dropped her arm as they made their way to one of the tables.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm going to look for Henry."

"What?" Wendy blanched, but Slightly shrugged:

"Surely you haven't forgotten why we're here. This isn't a joy ride. We're going to find Henry, and then we're going to leave." He had already begun scanning the ballroom for any signs of the black-haired boy.

"But you just said Ozma would string me up," Wendy protested, "You can't leave me alone!" She grabbed at his hand, her own eyes flitting around the ballroom. A few of the female guests were giggling at her gown, while the males appeared intrigued, if standoffish.

"You and I both know you're never alone," Slightly swallowed, "Not really." Then he moved into the crowd, and Wendy lost sight of him.

Just then, two guardsmen rapped their spears on the floor. They wore long, flowing green robes with gold buttons at the chests. Embroidery ran over the jacket, the circular embroidery spelling out a cursive "OZ" if one caught them at the right angle. Massive fur hats topped off the ensemble, and they hung so low Wendy wondered how they could see at all.

"Bow before the Princess of Oz!" they shouted in unison. They rapped their spears again, and stepped aside. Although everyone around her sunk into deep curtsies and bows, Wendy was frozen in place. Peter, dressed in his usual leaves (apparently he'd refused any outfits Ozma had shown him), escorted Ozma into the ballroom, holding her right hand lightly in his left. The princess was beaming, dressed in a white gown with diamonds interwoven into the fabric. The gown had two ruffles at the bottom, with a train at least two feet long. The bodice of the dress was tinted pale green, with diamonds, gold, and green embroidery practically covering her chest. It also appeared as if she had a sheer white cape of some sort, again with small diamonds in the fabric. Ozma wore her hair curled, with a double-rowed gold circlet around her head. Two gold flowers of a slightly deeper shade than the metal adorned the sides of the circlet. Finally, and startlingly, she wore red shoes.

The Ruby Slippers? Wendy wondered. Other than the red shoes- which made an almost shocking contrast against the rest of Ozma's outfit -the dress resembled a bridal gown (or what Wendy thought a bridal gown would look like in the Emerald City).

It seems that Ozma's already decided on her groom, Wendy thought darkly, not sure where this jealousy was coming from. She knew Peter had no intention of marrying Ozma, and she didn't even want Peter. How could she want a mass-murderer? She didn't- or so she assured herself.

Suddenly, Ozma stopped. Her eyes narrowed, and she glared at Wendy. Wendy met Peter's eyes in favor of Ozma's, and he raised one eyebrow and nodded to her. She could practically hear his unspoken command: Curtsy, Bird, if you want to live.

Gritting her teeth, Wendy managed a brief curtsy. This was apparently enough for Ozma, who proceeded to ignore her and walk directly to the center of the dance floor.

"Fellow Ozians," the princess intoned, "Tonight we have a very special occasion. A favored guest has returned to us: Peter Pan!" She gazed up at him in adoration. The assembled guests bowed or curtsied, then clapped. Pan granted Ozma a blithe smile, one which Wendy recognized as completely and utterly emotionless.

Ozma didn't know Peter as well as Wendy, and so she blushed prettily at what she thought was his attention, "This celebration is in his honor, and it is also…to find me a husband," at this statement, gasps filled the room, "It has been too long since Oz had a king, don't you agree?" The crowd nodded- what else could they do?

"In order to find he who is most worthy of being my husband, I've summoned you and your sons here. We shall have an archery contest," Ozma waved a hand behind her, and servants immediately began to set up targets, passing out bows and arrows to stunned boys, "He who wins the contest may claim his prize and become king of Oz." The male guests aged ten to seventeen had various reactions to this statement. The younger ones bit their lips and stared at each other in shock and confusion. The older ones eyed each other warily, accepting their bows with determination. It seemed that like Glinda, they wanted the throne of Oz as well- although unlike Glinda, they had never expected it to be offered to them.

Idly, Wendy mused if they knew they'd never even come close to getting it.

But speaking of royals…now she examined the boys more closely. There were some with black hair, but they were far too tall to be Henry. Her suspicions were confirmed when they turned and stretched, this time facing her. As she looked over the other boys, she had the sneaking suspicion that none of them would be Henry either. And if they weren't…what was Peter planning? Were they just going to leave Oz behind after polarizing their government, and riling up a witch? Somehow, she doubted Peter would let them depart while doing nothing. It simply wasn't in his way.

Nevertheless, Peter himself accepted a bow- his personally presented to him by Ozma -and playacted warming up. After centuries of archery, he no longer needed to warm-up or practice. His shot was deadly, and none of these boys, the oldest of them had probably been practicing archery for ten years, stood a chance against him.

Wendy watched as the first round of archers lined up. A group of almost fifty boys had assembled to try their luck at becoming Oz's new king. The youngest was clearly terrified, fingering his bow with trepidation. Much to Wendy's surprise, Peter bent down next to the boy and clapped him on the back. The boy trembled, then looked over his shoulder at a woman scowling in the crowd. It could only be his mother, and it was blatant that if the child- for the boy could hardly be older than eight –did not win, there would be serious consequences. Peter followed the boy's gaze, then slowly rose to his feet, his own eyes meeting the boy's mother's with a dreadful sort of pleasure. Then he smiled, and squeezed the boy's shoulder before taking a place next to him for the first round.

Seeing that everyone, including Peter, was in place, Ozma stood up from her throne. She raised her staff once, then declared:

"For my hand in marriage, and the crown of Oz, archers- fire!"

Arrows whooshed through the air, many hitting their mark in a rush of thuds. Some boys howled with delight, while others moaned in disappointment. Ozian guards collected the targets of the losers, who were escorted to the edges of the crowd. More than fifteen boys had been eliminated from the first round, including the little boy whom Peter had encouraged. The boy made his way hesitantly to his mother, who looked furious. Peter watched the exchange, then turned his attention back to the contest. He began to talk with some of the other competitors as the servants rearranged the targets. Some of the boys were smiling, if nervous, while others appeared anxious or annoyed. Wendy couldn't help but notice it was these boys that Peter sought out.

Round, after round, it was the same pattern. Boys fired their arrows and were eliminated, more slowly as the rounds progressed. Peter chatted with both the contestants still involved and those who had been disqualified, and Wendy felt so nervous she almost began to pick her nails- a nervous habit she'd both developed and stopped while in Neverland.

Luckily, Slightly tapped her shoulder at about the fourth round (seven boys, not including Peter, were left). He proffered a green goblet, saying:

"You look like you could use this."

Wendy eyed the drink skeptically, "What is it?" Hook had once offered her rum, but this didn't look like anything she'd ever seen before.

"Poppy wine. Not my favorite, but it has to be better for the nerves than what you're doing," his own eyes went to her hands, and Wendy flushed, accepting the beverage without a word.

Slightly whispered, "Also, Henry's not in the crowd."

"So we came for nothing," Wendy sighed, somehow simultaneously grateful that they hadn't captured Henry and uneasy about what exactly that meant.

"No, we didn't," the Lost Boy said, "You know Pan would never let a trip like this go to waste."

The two watched in silence until finally only Peter and one boy were left. The boy was tall, with (oddly) green hair and the hint of a green beard, and very obviously not Henry Mills. He seemed cocky, and Peter seemed amused by the boy's blustering attitude. Wendy wanted to groan with frustration, and also to warn the redhead.

It's over. It's always been over. Don't you know he could wring your neck, just for fun?

But of course the boy didn't. He'd never met Peter before today. He had no idea what he was dealing with.

---

"So, Peter Pan? That's your name?" the redhead inquired, "Bit of an odd name, isn't it?"

Peter resisted the urge to gut the redhead, instead stringing his bow as he replied, "Odd to you, maybe, but it's memorable," he smirked, "I haven't been here in ages and Ozma remembers my name. What's yours, by the way?"

"Omby Amby."

Pan burst into laughter, "You can't be serious." He knew the Ozians had- well, if he was polite, he supposed he would use the term "unusual" –names. This one, however, was the strangest he'd ever heard.

Omby's eyes narrowed, "I'm very serious. It's a long tradition in the Ozian military for the youngest officer to take that name. It's a famous name." His chest practically puffed out with pride.

Peter snickered, "I can promise you, Omby, that Ozma has no idea who you are."

Omby bristled at his taunts, "Of course she does! And even if- even if she doesn't know…she will when I win. Then I will be King Omby of Oz, and everyone will be amazed at the boy who went from private to king in one day."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Omby, but you'll still be a private by the time this competition is over," Peter checked his bow one more time.

Flawless, he thought. Time to get this over with.

"When this is over," Omby said, "I'm going to tell the the guards to cut off your head."

Peter smirked, "How funny. I was going to tell them to do the same to you."

Omby's face practically turned red, but Peter merely turned to Ozma and bowed:

"Your Highness, would you permit us to take our final shot?"

The princess smiled, "Of course! Of course. Good luck," ostensibly, she gave well-wishes to both competitors, but her eyes never left Peter's as she called, "Ready. Aim. Fire!"

---

Wendy watched the arrows as if they were in slow motion. She knew the outcome, of course. But the seconds seemed to drag on, and she felt her heart start to pound.

At her side, Slightly whispered, "Take another sip."

Wendy queried, "What's the point?" then, one thought struck her before all others, "Wait, Slightly…where did you get this?" She cast her gaze all around the room, and sure enough, every person in the room held a green goblet just like hers.

"What did you do?" Wendy whispered furiously, "What's in this?" then she stared back at Peter, realizing Slightly would have done nothing without Peter's orders, "God, what did he do?"

Slightly ignored her frantic questions. He too watched the arrows as they smacked into their targets:

"I think he just won."

---

Ozma sent over official guards to be sure, who took measurements of the arrows. However, the outcome was indisputable: while both arrows appeared to hit the bullseye of the target, Omby's was two centimeters left of center. Peter's, naturally, was dead center. Ozma let out a shriek of delight and ran to Peter, throwing her arms around him. Omby let out a groan of fury, but the sound died away quickly as he met Peter's eyes.

"No," Omby whispered, "No. No. Don't do it. Don't."

"Oh, but Omby," Peter pried Ozma off him, "We had a wager." He turned to his "fiancée:"

"Omby said that the first thing he would order, if he won, was to have me beheaded. I told him that I felt the same, if I won. And I did. What do you think about that, Ozma?"

Ozma's eyes narrowed into slits. She scanned Omby's dress, "I think a private should have some respect for his new king, and that a member of the Ozian military should honor his promises. Guards?"

At her command, the guardsmen at the doors snapped to attention, "Your Highness?"

"Take…" she glanced briefly at the terrified private, "whatever his name is and execute him." The guardsmen stepped forward, hauling Omby backwards out of the room.

"No! No!" the boy cried, "Your Highness, please! Have mercy! Have mercy! I don't want to die!"

"Then you shouldn't disrespect my fiancé," Ozma answered irritably. She sighed, flicking a strand of hair over her shoulder, pointedly ignoring Omby's shouts for mercy, clemency, help, anything, until new guards took the place of the old and closed the doors, muffling the sound. She sidled up to Peter, who slid one arm around her waist.

"Before we continue," Pan interjected, "I would just like to offer a toast. To Princess Ozma!" He held out his hand for a glass, and a footman bowed and handed him one. A glass of poppy wine.

Just like Wendy's. The girl stared down at the green liquid in her own glass in puzzlement and horror. There was something wrong here, something terribly wrong, and she had no idea what it was, or how to stop it…

The crowd was oblivious to her inner turmoil. Instead, they all raised their glasses, and echoed Peter's toast:

"To Princess Ozma!"

Peter's smile grew wider as they drained their glasses of every last drop. Wendy simply held hers in a trembling hand.

"Yes, to dear Princess Ozma," Peter removed his arm from her. Perplexed, the princess reached for him, but Pan strode to the very center of the ballroom.

"I'm afraid I must apologize to you all. You see, I won't be king of Oz," he continued unabashed as gasps filled the ballroom, "but then again, Ozma shouldn't be princess either. In fact, that isn't even Princess Ozma." He turned around, gesturing to the flabbergasted girl.

"What are you- Peter, how can you- ugh!" the princess' hands flew to her head, and she shrieked in pain. Wendy's own hand covered her mouth. Glinda was apparently much more gentle when she normally possessed Ozma- now she'd just shoved herself inside the princess' head.

"You'll all recall the Civil War of Oz. Or be starting to, anyway," Peter grinned, but it more perverse than happy, "and how the Governor-Princesses rebelled and fought against King Pastoria, who very thoughtfully trapped you all here…well, 'Princess' Glinda, self-proclaimed Queen of the North, has been possessing Ozma all the while, keeping her from growing up. Oh, she's also been drugging the rest of you so you wouldn't notice how strange Ozma's become-"

"Pan!" Glinda-through-Ozma screeched. She practically flew across the room, reaching for Peter's throat. He held up a hand of his own, freezing Ozma in place. Sweat beaded down the princess' forehead, but Peter barely seemed to notice:

"Don't worry, though. My man's slipped an antidote into your drinks. I suggest you find a regent, and arrest Zoroaster over there. His real name's Oscar, by the way, and he's the one who's been drugging you under Glinda's orders this whole time," Pan pointed to a man who had been slinking out of the ballroom. He wore a green vest and pants, as well as a green doctor's jacket. He stilled at Peter's condemnation, then broke into a run. Instinctively, some of the Ozian noblemen- the antidote clearly beginning to take effect –tackled him to the ground.

"Pan!" Glinda-through-Ozma yelled again, "We had a deal, Pan! A deal!"

"Indeed we did, dearest Glinda, but you didn't keep up your end. The boy I was searching for isn't here, so while I still have no plans to claim the kingship, I do plan on interfering in your affairs," Peter smiled as the various people in the ballroom gasped. Ozma's eyes flared pink before turning to the color entirely. She floated, her feet dragging along the floor towards Peter, and this time he let her.

"You see?" he called out, "This isn't your princess. This is the Witch of the North."

At these words, Glinda-through-Ozma shrieked, "You'll die, Pan! I'll kill you! They'll kill you!" she gestured to remaining guards in the room, "Kill him at once!" The guards gaped at her, and it was clear that murdering Pan was the very last thing on their agenda. They looked back and forth at one another, until finally a boy- the 3rd place winner, Wendy realized –stepped out of the crowd:

"Her Highness is clearly incapable of ruling right now. Lords and ladies, would you be amenable to me acting as regent until we break the spell on her?" the redhead turned around on one foot until he faced Pan, "Unless you have any objections?"

"None whatsoever," Peter waved him away, "You'll want to follow the guards though. Lock Ozma in her chambers, send doctors, spellcasters, whatever you have, to her every day." The boy (though Wendy supposed he was now the new regent of Oz) swept out of the room, the crowd murmuring variations of "Your Highness" and "Prince Boq" as they tried to process the drama going on around them.

As the doors closed behind the procession of the screaming princess, various guardsmen, and the new regent, Peter smirked, "Now then. Before I go…there's one last thing to take care of. You all know me- Peter Pan, the star-traveler. But as you've seen today, I can take others with me. I can make others star-travelers. I rule a world myself, you see," he held his hands behind his back, and every eye in the room was focused on him, "It's called Neverland, and it's a place for Lost Ones. Boys who have been neglected and hurt by society. I must say, I'm disappointed. I've visited Oz many times, and would never have suspected the people of the Emerald City being so cruel to their boys as I've heard from contestants today-"

"Slightly," Wendy practically hit the Lost Boy beside her. He jumped, surprised by her action. He too had been entranced by Peter's speech.

"What. Is. In. This. Drink?" Wendy said each word individually, "Peter said you put something in the drinks. What's in mine?"

Slightly sighed, "Yours is fine, Wendy-lady. Literally, nothing in it but poppy wine."

"And the others?" the girl's grip around her glass was as tight as iron.

"You heard Pan. I put an antidote to the drugs in it," he reached into his pocket, then showed her a bag, "Stardust. Whenever I fly I always try to get some; it's incredibly useful stuff. Among other properties, it counteracts most drugs. Only a few grains of stardust in each glass, and now, every citizen of the Emerald City can see 'Ozma' and the 'wizard,'" he scoffed, "for what they truly are." Seeing Wendy was still skeptical, Slightly hurried to reassure her:

"I promise, nothing's in yours. You already know everything about Ozma and the wizard."

Wendy was still dubious. She knew Peter would never physically harm her (she thought that, anyway- excluding the time with his arrow), but nevertheless, she refused to take another sip of her wine. Shaking her head, she was startled out of her reverie by Pan's next sentence:

"-normally, I'd take them to Neverland and save them from your abuse," he grit his teeth, "but I can't, due to the late king's attempt at protecting his daughter. In the meantime, I will do all that I can to eliminate that abuse. You should start to be feeling its effects," his cast his gaze up at a nearby clock, "now."

As if to punctuate his statement, the woman next to Wendy began to choke. Wendy stumbled back as she realized this woman was the mother of the little boy Peter had been speaking to in the very first phase of the competition. The woman staggered, reaching for purchase. Slightly pulled Wendy out of the way as the woman fell atop a table filled with refreshments, fighting to breathe. Then, one after the other, various people in the room displayed similar symptoms- choking, struggling for breath, stumbling about before finally crashing to the ground, where they all began to spit up blood.

"Oh my God," Wendy's own breath caught in her mouth, "Oh my God!" As blood began to soak the green floor, Wendy whirled around and screamed at Slightly:

"You said there was an antidote in it!"

"There was," Slightly swallowed, "Just a few grains of stardust. Enough to counteract the wizard's drug. But not enough to counteract ten drops of aqua regia."

"A few drops of what?"

"Aqua regia," Slightly said guiltily, "It's used to clean emeralds. Highly poisonous. I swiped some while you were getting dressed."

"When I was getting dressed…" Wendy paused as the timeline sunk in, "Did Peter plan this the whole time? He knew he was going to poison people the whole time?!"

Slightly shrugged, unable to meet Wendy's eyes, "You heard him. He can't help boys like he normally does. In his mind, this was the next best thing."

Wendy was completely aghast. Without another word, she reached back and slapped Slightly hard across the face. He doubled over in shock, not expecting the blow.

"How could you?" Wendy demanded, "How could you? Actually…" she left a stunned Slightly by the refreshment table, striding to the center of the ballroom before Peter himself:

"How could you!?" she screamed at him. Peter raised an eyebrow, then responded in a completely calm tone, "The boys needed help." He was entirely unfazed by the blood running towards them, staining Wendy's already hideous gown.

"'Help?'" Wendy laughed hysterically, then began to yell at him in earnest, "You call this help? You just murdered a quarter of the adults in this ballroom!"

"I made a vow long ago to stop this abuse."

"Yes, you did," Wendy practically snarled at him, "and I understand that. But how could you be certain? How could you be certain that every single person you just killed was an abuser? How many of them were parents whose children were in petty fights with them? Huh?" she nodded towards a sobbing ten year old in the corner, who was currently begging his father not to die, "Who are you to play judge and jury and God? As I understood it, your job was to save, not kill! Yes, maybe some of these people were horrible, but many more were innocent!"

"Wendy-" Pan began, but Wendy held up a hand to silence him.

"Don't brush me off, Peter. Don't. I can't tell you how many times I argued with my father at their age. I said I hated him. I told my own father I hated him! Not once, not twice, but time after time…and Peter, I never truly hated my father. I loved my father, I loved him so very much," at this, Wendy's ire finally began to disappear, and she started to cry, "and he's dead now. God, I wish I had never said such things to him…about him…oh, God, if I could only see him now," at that, Wendy fell to the floor. Her gown, her shoes, and her hands were all shortly covered in blood. If Pan didn't know any better, he would have thought she had ingested the poison or perhaps slaughtered some of the attendees herself.

"Wendy," Peter held one hand out to pull her to her feet, but she ignored it:

"If I could see him now…and all I've wanted for so long is to see him now…I would tell him how sorry I am. Oh God…" Wendy sobbed, then lifted one hand to wipe tears off her cheek, "Daddy, if you're listening…I'm so sorry. Forgive me. Forgive me. Please."

At last, Pan became truly alarmed. Wendy was literally breaking down, and she was shaking in a pool of blood. She was oblivious to how it coated her clothes and her hands- and hadn't realized that she'd also marked her face with it in her futile attempt to rid her cheek of tears.

Peter was unnerved. It reminded him of when he'd first seen her in the classroom and she'd fainted. It had almost been like she was absorbed in other memories, other places, other times. Abruptly, he took her hands in his own and forced her to her feet.

"Slightly!" Peter called across the ballroom. Obediently, the Lost Boy came to his leader's side.

"We're leaving. Now," he assessed Wendy's condition and grimaced, "Hold my wrist. I'm afraid to let her go."

Me too, Slightly thought, She might actually kill us, never mind hit us. Nevertheless, he knew better than to say these words aloud. He simply nodded, and was dead silent as Peter flew them straight up through the ballroom ceiling, ignoring the devastation they'd left behind them.

---

When they arrived back at mansion, it was about four in the morning. Oz's time moved several hours faster than Storybrooke's. It was lucky that Peter had suggested they check there first- they'd already eliminated a world, and none of the Charmings were the wiser the Neverlanders even knew of their plan.

Wendy appeared to be in a state of shock. However, their flight back seemed to have disseminated her fury. Peter managed to escort her upstairs into the master bedroom without her attempting to slap him, which Slightly considered a triumph. However, when Pan told her to take a shower and change into pajamas, she didn't reply. She'd hardly uttered a word since they'd returned.

Refusing to let it bother him, Pan instead found Felix and Tink seated in the kitchen. The pair were sipping at coffee, though both were bleary-eyed. It was clear that they had waited up for them.

Peter leaned over the counter, surprising the two: "Felix, show Tink to the second guestroom. Then organize a watch." Wordlessly, the couple deposited their cups in their sink and followed Peter upstairs. As Tink disappeared inside the room, Felix asked under his breath:

"Were you successful?"

Pan replied, with absolutely no inflection whatsoever, "He's not in Oz, but that doesn't matter right now. What doesis that the Charmings are sure to realize Henry has disappeared, Wendy has escaped from jail, and Tink has sought refuge here. Organize a watch."

Felix nodded and walked back downstairs. Peter watched for a while as he selected various Lost Boys to wake up- some of them new ones. He couldn't help but smile. Although the new Boys were clearly unused to being woken so early, they didn't complain.

He knew he'd picked the right ones.

---

Wendy had somehow managed to wash the blood off her, but she thought the white floor of the shower might be permanently stained pink. She'd curled up the ugly dress into a ball and left it in the bathroom, not desiring to see it ever again. Let Peter deal with it. He had enough experience with blood already.

With a sigh, Wendy stepped out of the tub, wrapped a towel around herself, then approached the armoire across from the giant bed. She expected everything to be variations of Peter's outfit, but managed to find an oversized white shirt in the back. She started as she realized it was a men's button down, and as Peter didn't wear button downs, it had to be Felix's. She wrinkled her nose- she didn't want to wear his clothes –but she didn't have much else of a choice at the moment. So it was that she pulled it on with distaste.

When the door opened, Wendy was staring at herself in the mirror. The blood was off her, but she could still see it. Rushing all over her, and off her, naming her as a murderer with them…

"Bird, do you still have nightmares?"

It was strange to hear Peter voice the question out loud, because they were both more than aware that she did. They were also both more than aware that when he slept beside her, they went away- and that several times since he'd revealed his presence in Storybrooke her nightmares had departed. That could only have happened if he had again slept beside her.

Wendy faced him and murmured, "You are the nightmare."

Peter flinched as though she'd stabbed him. The action surprised her- she thought he was immutable to any criticism, even hers. Apparently, that wasn't the case. His eyes were filled with pain- but she saw no remorse there.

It mirrored her own feelings. She had no remorse for what she said either. Despite that, she added:

"Yes, I have nightmares." She couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes again, but eventually she had to, and was surprised for the second time that night:

Pan was staring at her as he said, "Stay with me." Technically, the statement was a command, but Wendy swore she saw a hint of vulnerability in his gaze. Almost as though he was begging her for a chance to redeem himself- for her to see him as something different. Then she blinked, and it was gone.

Wendy paused, considering her reply. Did she want to have nightmares? Did she want to sleep with a murderer? Did that killer really have the power to protect her? Did she dare acknowledge whatever it was that was going on between them? Or what had been? Was there anything now at all? She sensed there was so much riding on this moment, but if anyone asked, she couldn't say what it was.

Finally, she whispered, "Yes."

---

Nothing untoward happened that night. Peter was chivalrous enough. He'd disappeared briefly after she'd agreed to stay- probably checking on the watch. When he'd returned, she'd undone her hair, and was lying on her side. For his part, he did not remove his shirt as he'd done in Neverland, simply slid in beside her. He wrapped his arms around her. Neither of them said anything as they fell asleep. Their emotions were too confusing.

The next morning, Wendy woke up alone. Sunlight streamed through the window. Rubbing her eyes, she swung out of bed and approached the wardrobe. A brief smile played at her lips- it was now full of her own clothes. At some point last night, one of the Lost Boys must have been sent back to the house at the edge of town to retrieve her own clothes (and most likely Tinkerbell's as well).

At the thought of the fairy, Wendy frowned. She quickly threw some clothes on- a pair of jeans and dark purple top -before opening the door and making her way down the hallway. She counted the doors- there were only two. She pushed one open, revealing the room of a young boy. The curtains were blue, and the shelves were full of comics. This must have been Henry's room, then. She spun on her foot, then went for the second door. This opened into what looked like a smaller version of the master suite, with the bed being queen-sized instead of king, and the curtains draped in violet instead of red. Tink was wearing dark jeans and a low cut green tank top, and her hair was a complete and utter mess. Wendy was taken aback- this was the most revealing outfit she'd seen the fairy in, ever -and this was the happiest Tink had looked in ages.

"Uh...good morning?" Wendy said hesitantly.

Tinkerbell smirked, for a second looking a bit like Pan, "Very good." Then she shook her head, remembering Wendy was there:

"What is it?"

"I was going to ask you what you thought of this. Of everything, really," Wendy stumbled over her words, "What you're going to do."

Tink bit her lip, "Well, Pan came to see me last night."

---

After Felix had shown Tink to the guest room, he'd departed to organize and double the watch (like Pan, he believed that when the Charmings discovered Wendy's escape, they would come to Regina's former mansion first. While they couldn't come in, it would only be prudent to have guards posted). The second his footsteps had echoed down the stairs, she heard a familiar voice say:

"Hello, Tink."

"Peter," the fairy turned to look at him over her shoulder. The boy who'd given her everything shut the door behind him, and he appeared solemn.

Tink inquired, "I'll take it this means you don't plan on killing me?"

A smirk played about Pan's lips, but he confirmed, "Good guess. No, I don't plan on it, unless you're planning on betraying me again."

At that, Tinkerbell crossed her arms, "What did you expect me to do, Peter? You banished me! Told me I couldn't speak to anyone-"

"You found a way around that," Pan noted, and she snapped:

"That's not the point, and I would appreciate it if you didn't tell Felix about that."

Peter shrugged, "Like I said, I don't plan on it, unless you plan on betraying me again."

Tink's ire only grew at his casual dismissal of her exile, "Just tell me why you did it. I never understood. I know you want the Lost Boys to hold you above everything, but that's not the only reason you exiled me. It can't be, otherwise you would have done it before Wendy left-" she stopped her tirade, and raised an eyebrow, "Wendy?"

Again, Peter shrugged, "I wasn't exactly in my right mind, Tink. She left, and the island started to die, and I was frantic trying to save it and the boys-"

"Oh, Peter," Tink laughed, a touch of bitterness poisoning the sound, "That's not all. You couldn't stand it, could you? She left, and you couldn't stand seeing Felix and I together. It didn't sit well with you. You, who always excelled at everything, and got everything you wanted, couldn't take it when the girl you loved left, and instead of dealing with it like a rational person, you forced two of your closest friends apart."

Peter neither confirmed or denied her accusations. All he said was, "I couldn't go back on it. It would have made me look weak."

"So instead you singlehandedly made your second miserable, and made me- the person who supported you, from day one -look like an incredible bitch? Never mind almost go insane?"

"You didn't go insane."

"Again, Peter, that's not the point. The only reason I didn't was because I found someone to talk to. But beyond the fact you exiled me anyway, what really drove the knife in was when Wendy came back and you still made me stay away."

"It would have made me look weak, and I couldn't afford to look weak then. I couldn't afford to be wrong. I had to save Neverland."

"What about saving me?" a few tears threatened to fall, and Peter attempted to reassure her:

"As soon as Neverland was restored, I was going to come up with some way for you to rejoin us-"

"Yeah," Tink laughed again, "That didn't exactly happen. Now you're trying to save it- again -and what are you planning to do about me? It's going to look suspicious if you let me stay here."

"It's going to look magnanimous," Pan riposted, "if you accept my terms."

"I knew you weren't sorry," the fairy said cruelly, "I knew there had to be something in this for you." She crossed her arms defensively over her chest.

Peter's voice didn't falter as he ignored her condemnation, "I'll welcome you back into the fold if you swear loyalty to me in front of the Lost Boys. I'll let you and Felix be together if you swear to fight on my side. Leave the Charmings; they've already shown they can't be trusted-"

"And you can?" Tink replied.

"What do you want to hear? The pretty answer, the practical answer, or the truth? The pretty answer is you and he are, as you pointed out, two of my closest friends. You deserve to be happy. I want you both to be happy.

"The practical answer is that you and Felix are simply worth more to me together than just having one of you alone. You are both good allies in a fight- don't give me that look; you can be vicious when you want. And the truth," Pan trailed off, "The truth is a mixture of both of those, but also with a caveat that you would do well to remember: Felix will never betray me, Tink. He's not going to suddenly defect to the side of Storybrooke."

At that, Tink realized Peter was right. Felix was never going to leave Pan's side. He loved being immortal, he loved being a deadly force of nature, he loved his part in a legend. If she wanted to be with him- and God, she did -the only way she could was if she returned to Pan's side. Besides, Peter had been her best friend once. She'd watched him grow from a precocious toddler into an astonishing king, then a brutal dictator when his realm was threatened. But as she stared at him, she saw flickers of her best friend. He was tainted by darkness, but somewhere inside, that amazing, dauntless boy still existed. And that boy still valued her friendship, and what little was left of his conscience did regret sending her away. Now, the pragmatic, calculating part of him was seizing on the opportunity to reverse his decision and welcome her back into the fold- if she swore her loyalty again in the midst of this fight, the Lost Boys would simply see her as a traitor who'd discovered the truth, and returned to the correct side.

Tinkerbell closed her eyes and sucked in a breath, "Swear to me you'll keep every part of this promise."

"I swear," Pan said immediately.

At his vow, she ignored her own conscience and declared, "Done." Pan merely nodded and opened the door.

"Peter-" Tink interjected. He paused, though he did not face her again.

"I missed you," she said softly.

Pan smirked.

---

"You're on Pan's side now?" Wendy gaped as the fairy nodded. She couldn't believe Tinkerbell's story.

"So he just...he just said you could be with Felix? That's all it took for you to make that decision?" the girl asked.

Tink shrugged, "It's not all it took. When Nibs told me they'd imprisoned you, I realized the Charmings see us as expendable. If they locked you up in jail for a kiss, and you were the key to them defeating Pan in Neverland, what would they do to me?" she mused, "We don't matter, Wendy, not to them."

"But what about your vow as a fairy? To protect, and to help?"

At this, Tink swallowed. She felt a little guilty about this- she really didn't want Henry to die, but if Felix was right, she wouldn't be the one responsible for his death anyway. Aloud, she echoed more of his reasoning:

"You're right. And I said that to Felix last night," she wrung her hands together, pushing her conscience down, "but he said I would be helping many more souls if I stood by and let Hen- let the Boys and Peter do their work. Peter can't help lost souls unless he has a world- Neverland -to fulfill the covenant he made with Queen Titania and King Oberon. I was there when he made that vow; I know the terms..." she mused, "and the more I thought about it, the more it made sense to me."

"But Pan exiled you!" Wendy insisted, "How could you just ignore that?"

The fairy smiled faintly, "Believe me, I didn't. He knows exactly how I feel about it. And he apologized- or what passes for an apology from him. He explained his reasons- reasons you'd be interested in, actually," she paused, "but I guess what made the decision is that is I love Felix, and he won't leave Peter. Peter used to be my best friend; I've known him since he was a child. Some part of me still cares about him, even after everything he's done. And I still know him, and deep down, he wants to help, and fulfill the covenant he made with the king and queen," she snorted, "He's not exactly going about it the right way, but there's no way I can change that if I'm not on his side, is there?"

"I suppose not," Wendy acknowledged. She gazed at the fairy, who had slowly become her friend, and her heart broke a little as she realized that depending on Wendy's own decision, Tink might be her enemy.

"I've made my choice, Wendy," Tinkerbell said, perhaps thinking along the same lines, "I suggest you make yours- and soon."

---

Shortly after Wendy's and her conversation, Tinkerbell was browsing the racks of what was considered Storybrooke's supermarket. She and Wendy rarely left Pan's headquarters- Regina's former home -now, Wendy because she'd been imprisoned once, and Tink because she was fearful she would be imprisoned. She wanted nothing more than to stay with Felix. However, there were plenty of Lost Boys, new and old, both residing in and coming to and from the mansion, and like most boys, they were absolutely ravenous. The older Lost Boys were training them, and since Storybrooke did not have Neverland's powers of "imagination," it often fell to the two girls- much to Tink's general consternation -to prepare meals for them. As such, the fairy was currently looking for ingredients for that night's dinner- some form of chicken, she decided -but she had an escort with her, consisting of Felix and Nibs. Felix, while he sneered at most things in Storybrooke, seemed to have developed a liking for cereal, and had wandered into the next aisle to peruse the various types available. Nibs was about five feet away from her, examining the quality of steaks. He picked a package up doubtfully.

"What is it?" Tink asked, somewhat amused by the perplexed expression on his face.

"I don't know," Nibs replied, not exactly answering her question, "It says beef, but how can you be sure if you didn't hunt it yourself?"

"You imagined it, once," the fairy pointed out, stifling a laugh, but the Lost Boy shook his head, "I can trust my own imagination, and my own hunting skills. I don't trust these people."

At that, Tinkerbell's smile faded. His remarks may have been flippant, but he wasn't entirely wrong. She didn't trust them either- not anymore. A bit forlornly, she returned the chicken she'd been holding to its shelf and decided to move to the vegetable section instead. The Boys might not be thrilled with a vegetarian meal, but at least then she could physically tell what each vegetable was.

Nibs followed her. Although Felix wasn't actually watching her, his own hunting skills let him sense their movement, and left the cereal aisle. He was at the opposite end from them, but trailed them towards the produce section. For her part, she couldn't help but sneak glances at him. She'd missed him so much. The idea that she had him back at all, and that he was doing something so mundane as following her around a supermarket, was surreal to her. However, it thrilled her, and the thought of him- and their chosen activities of the previous evening -returned a smile to her face. Tink was so distracted by him that she was still looking at him when she rounded a corner, and didn't realize she had just walked smack into the very last person she wanted to see.

Queen Mab- no, Tink refused to think of her like that, Mab was no queen, not like Titania had been -alias the Blue Fairy, alias the Mother Superior, stood before her, her lips curled in disapproval. She held a bag of carrots in one arm, and a purse in the other. Apparently, she too had ventured out to get food for the nuns- fairies -still under her rule in Storybrooke. There was a long silence, but then the Mother Superior followed Tink's gaze to where Felix stood at the other end of the aisle. One hand had disappeared into his sweatshirt, and she had no doubt he was grasping his switchblade tightly. Apparently, neither did the Mother Superior.

"This is what you've chosen?" the Mother Superior said derisively, "Consorting with a murderer?"

Tink grit her teeth, "Don't talk about Felix like that." Felix himself scowled, and while he was obviously displeased by the Mother Superior's comments, Pan had taught him enough of fairy culture not to interfere unless it was a life or death matter. So, he watched the pair square off instead, resisting the urge to slit the woman's throat.

"Like what?" the Mother Superior sneered, "What he is? You know, I don't know why I'm surprised you're defending him. You've always been one to deny the truth, from the day I first met you. You denied your station, what your destiny was supposed to be, and aspired to be something you never could be. You were born to fix pots and pans, not be a fairy godmother. I told my sister that, over, and over, and over. But did she listen?" the Mother Superior snorted, "No. And you denied you were a servant. Now you're denying your lover is a murderer. And may I remind you of the fairy code? We're not supposed to fall in love, or help those who are unworthy. You've done both, and denied the fairy code. Fallen in love, helped an evil queen-"

"I had no way of knowing how Regina would turn out," Tink insisted, but the Mother Superior kept on with her tirade, her voice full of accusation:

"Now, you've become evil yourself." The words hung in the air, like an axe over her head, and Tinkerbell's heart stopped as she sputtered, "I- I am not evil! How can you say something like that?"

"Because you defied nature. You defied the fairy code," the Mother Superior practically spat at her. Her eyes were cruel.

"Because I fell in love!?" Tink said, incredulous.

Mother Superior shook her head, "Because you've fallen. A long time ago, I said I didn't believe in you. Now, I do believe in you. I believe you've fallen, and I believe you're a dark fairy."

At the Mother Superior's fatal condemnation, Tink felt a wrenching pain in her back. She doubled over, gasping, as she felt twin bumps bubble up beneath her skin, just above her shoulder blades.

"What did you do?" Tinkerbell demanded, the last word turning into a shriek of pain. Nibs rushed to her side, catching her as she fell to her knees. Felix, though not a fairy himself, practically flew down the aisle. He caught the Mother Superior by the throat, holding his blade close enough to the skin to draw blood.

"What. Did. You. Do?" he repeated his lover's question, each word punctuated by him pressing the blade harder into the Mother Superior's throat.

"I only said what she is," the woman answered, "All good fairies are bound by the fairy code, to help, not harm; to not fall in love; to obey, not disobey, the queen. She has done all of that. She fell in love, she disobeyed the queen, and she brought more harm to more people than she could ever imagine when she aided the Evil Queen. I once said I didn't believe in her- made her a human for her failure. But I gave her a path to redemption in doing so," the Mother Superior sniffed, "she could have begged for my forgiveness, apologized for everything. I would have welcomed her back, of course, though she could never be a fairy godmother again, which she clearly was never suited to be-"

"Get to the point," Felix snarled, increasingly enraged by Tink's cries of pain.

"Tinkerbell didn't choose redemption. She didn't even choose to live the rest of her days in failure. She chose you. She chose Pan. She chose the path to evil. There is good magic and dark magic, and she is no longer on the right side," the Mother Superior explained.

At last, Tinkerbell herself said, "You've cursed me!" Her hands clawed at her back, shredding the thin fabric of her shirt.

"I've done no such thing," the Mother Superior retorted, smirking, "Only dark fairies cast curses. I've just told the truth."

As Tink cried out in pain, tears streaming down her face, Felix swore to the Mother Superior, eyes blazing, "I'm telling you the truth: one day, I'm going to kill you for this." Then he released her, throwing her to the side, leaving a thin cut at her neck from which blood dripped freely.

With that, all Felix's attention turned to Tinkerbell. Mother Superior ignored, he swept the moaning fairy into his arms. She clutched at his neck, and he carefully skirted the bumps in her skin that was clearly bubbling and moving. Small black objects seemed to appear in the middle of the bumps. Nibs, swallowing his confusion and fear, picked up his phone and dialed Regina's old house.

"Tell Pan something's wrong."

---

When they came back to the mansion, Felix carried the weeping fairy upstairs into the second bedroom and placing her on the bed. Peter was there within seconds, assessing the situation with a critical and practical eye. Wendy watched from the doorway, hands clasped over her mouth, as Pan instructed:

"Turn her over." Immediately, Felix did so, trying to be as gentle as possible. Unfortunately, his efforts were in vain. Tinkerbell screamed, grasping at the sheets and crying freely. Pan ripped open what remained of the back of her shirt, examining the bumps, the small black objects in their centers appearing to grow in size.

"Tink," he said, "You're going to be fine." He swore slightly under his breath, muttering to Felix, "I can't believe she did this."

"Did what, exactly?" Felix murmured, "I'll kill her for it, either way, but I need to know what she did."

Pan smiled slightly at the venom in his second's voice, but the smile disappeared when Tinkerbell shrieked again.

"You've heard stories of angels and demons," Pan said, "many of which were inspired by fairies. Before humans came to know and understand fairies, they created origins for them, stories to explain these winged creatures. One such story is that of Lucifer, an angel who aspired to be greater than God. He fought against God, who in turn, threw him down and made him a demon, forever cast to hell and away from the light of God.

"This story is a bastardization of a fairy law, rarely enacted, that some humans must have observed ages ago. If a fairy flouts the rule of the monarch and thinks herself greater than the code, the fairy monarch can condemn her. She can be cast out and condemned, never to be a light fairy again. She becomes an exile, a dark fairy, symbol of evil and universally hated by all light fairies," Pan paused, "As God made an angel into a demon, Mab made Tinkerbell into a dark fairy."

As if to punctuate his statement, the black objects erupted into spectacular black wings. Translucent, they were webbed, and shimmered eerily in the light of the bedroom. Blood stemmed from the wounds where the wings had burst through her skin, and Tinkerbell sobbed freely. She was deathly pale, and her eyes were red, though whether it was from weeping so hard or some effect of the Mother Superior's curse Wendy didn't know.

"Tink," Peter bent down to the fairy's bedside, looking her in the eyes. In a rare show of tenderness, he squeezed her hand, "I know it hurts, but you'll be okay. I'll make sure of it." Tinkerbell hiccuped, but nodded and closed her eyes, clearly trying to stop crying. Pan rose to his feet. Wendy saw murder in his expression.

He turned to Felix, "Stay with Tink."

"I want to kill that bitch," Felix protested.

"You'll get to," Peter promised, "just not tonight."

Then he swept out of the bedroom without another word.

---

Author's Note:

Okay. So to clear up any confusion:

Yes, John and Michael started the Home Office. This will be explored more in future chapters; don't worry!

Yes, Felix is from Oz. The version of Oz he's from is based on the books, NOT the movie (excluding the Ruby Slippers). King Pastoria and Princess Ozma are straight out of the books, although the plot is my own- the Witches are not the king's sisters in the books, nor is Ozma possessed. Additionally, the Yellow Brick Road philosophy is my own, as is evil Glinda (I kind of love the idea of Glinda being evil). Anyway, there are a few characters throughout this chapter who you may recognize as versions of characters from the books if you've read them, though they are tweaked (you have to remember- our world got the stories wrong)! So:

Felix's father is based on Nick Chopper- aka, the Tin Man (who, in my universe is not entirely tin. But a lot of him is). Felix's mother is based on Nimmie Amee, aka a Munchkin who fell in love with the Tin Man, but was enslaved to a witch and not allowed to be with him. Serena is based on The Patchwork Girl. Omby Amby is based on the Soldier with the Green Whiskers. HOWEVER, these characters have been heavily modified from their original versions.

Anyway, I hope you all found Felix's past, as well as present Oz, interesting.

I'd love to know what you think of this chapter (and the last one).

I hope you enjoyed it and it was worth the wait!

~ladykikyo1792