Hey guys, I know I'm a day late but I swear when I tried to post the next chapter yesterday my internet said nah, you don't get to post today, so here we are. Anyways here I am with the 6th chapter!

No I do not own OUAT, if I did Peter would not be Rumple's father (bleh!_) and he would still be on the show.

Play ball!

Chapter 6: Something More Than Death

One hundred forty years previous…

Ven lay in her bed of leaves in the cave she called home, her fight (if you could call it a fight) with Peter still fresh in her mind. She'd been her for years (real time) now and she'd known for just as long why she was here. She was here because Pan was dying and he was looking for a way to cheat death. She knew that, he'd never tried to hide it from her and he'd never lied to her, she was going to die when he took her heart.

So why did she feel like this?

It had started in that cave in the Enchanted Forest when he saved her from the dragon and she'd hoped it would fade with time but it seemed to only grow worse. Whenever she was with him she either wanted to punch him or…or…

She felt her face grow hot at that thought and slapped her cheeks.

"Focus Ven, focus," she said firmly. She sighed. "Yeah right." She sat up and crossed her legs, inhaling deeply. When she was upset as she was now she liked to just be quiet and focus her magic energy, it was good practice and strangely soothing.

But only moments in her eyes suddenly snapped open and she cried out. She'd felt burning, burning that came directly from her chest. She closed her eyes, pressing a hand to her chest as if to try and smother the invisible flames.

"Having trouble?" a voice asked.

She grit her teeth. "Ever heard of knocking?"

"Course not, I'm the King of Neverland remember?" Peter replied with a wink.

She glared at him. "What do you want?"

He sauntered up. "Well, first I can tell you what that burning is," she perked up. "It's untrained fire magic. It's natural magic, something passed down genetically, so you can either ignore it and for a while the burning will intensify but after a few weeks it'll fade and so will the magic, or you can nurture it and learn to use it and it'll get stronger and as your control gets better the burning will fade. Either way the pain goes away."

She rolled her eyes. "If you're trying to convince me to learn fire magic don't, you already know I want to learn."

He cocked his head quizzically. "And how do I know that?"

She glared at him. "Don't play-"

"Games?"

She stopped talking. What a stupid choice of words. Saying that was like telling a fish not to swim.

"So are you going to teach me?" she asked. "I've perfected my teleportation and I'm already proficient in telekinesis, I'd very much like to learn pyrokinesis."

Peter stared at her for a moment, his expression unreadable. "Because the magic is genetic transferal, it's from one of your parents. I'd say more likely your mother, fire magic is much more powerful in the hands of a female, flames of passion and all that."

"You're saying that my mother gave me this magic?" she asked.

He nodded. "Yes. Though I'd wager she didn't have magic training specifically for fire, her magic is most likely limited to fire balls and such. Does this bother you?"

She looked away. "Tch. Why would it?"

He shrugged. "No reason. Let's go."

"Now?"

"No time like the present." He snapped his fingers and the two disappeared from the cave and reappeared at the top of the tallest mountain in Neverland. She punched his arm.

"Don't do that without warning me," she snapped.

He just chuckled lightly. "Alright, let's begin. The first thing you need to know is that while all more powerful magic relies on emotion the magic that relies the most on emotion is fire magic. Something I'm sure you won't have any trouble with," he added with a smirk.

She rolled her eyes. "Just keep going."

"Alright alright. The second thing you need to know about fire magic is that it is not something to play around with-"

"Please. I'm no child," she huffed.

He outright laughed at that. "That is almost as funny as your earlier comment about not playing games. Form is a very important part of fire magic, a wrong form and the flames can go out of control." He slid his right foot back and raised his left hand to his ear, a second later he swung his wrist down and a fire ball flared up in his palm. "Now you try."

She copied his stance, taking a deep breath. "Emotion." She swung her arm down, shoving forth all of her anger at the world into the movement. The burning in her chest intensified but… nothing happened. She tried again but nothing happened again. "What's going on!?" she exclaimed angrily. "I should be able to do it," she snapped.

Peter grabbed her hand and raised it up, he brought her back to the form. "Just try again." She flushed bright red at the realization of how close he was. He was practically hugging her from behind. "Go on. Try it."

She took a deep breath and brought up her anger, except she was too mixed up with…something else, that she couldn't concentrate. She stepped away.

"No. I can't do it," she blurted.

He hummed softly. "Maybe you can't draw your fire magic from anger, maybe it's a different emotion," he mused.

"Either way I can't do it, not right now." And with that she teleported away, leaving behind a very confused Peter.

He shouldn't feel like this. Ven was going to die. That was the only reason he'd brought her to the island in the first place. He needed her heart otherwise he would die, it was that simple. Honestly he couldn't care less about the boy, Henry, the boy was just a link that needed to be severed, he probably wouldn't even die. But Ven…he'd cared enough to bring her to the island, to teach her magic.

He'd aided Neverland in capturing her cold heart and anchoring it to the island. It had been a long time now, over fifty years in earth years, and he was feeling…wrong. It was a feeling he wasn't supposed to have, she was going to die and he was to live. That was the bottom line.

There was just no way.

In the relative safety of her small cave Ven was also experiencing turmoil within her heart. Part of her said that the things she felt were impossible, doomed to fail. She was here to die after all. But the other part pushed her toward…him.

She groaned and practically fell onto her bed, closing her eyes and falling into a fitful sleep.

She was back in London again. Back on the dirty streets that were dimly lit by ill-kept street lamps. She was in this place, this place she hated so much. Here she was, hurrying through the darkened streets, her heart thudded painfully in her young chest.

She was scared. She was young, alone, small, weak, a girl. Who knew how many bad things could happen? She was small for a fourteen year old, but right on the cusp of becoming a woman.

Suddenly a hand grabbed her wrist and dragged her back into an alley. She screamed, trying to pull away, but the hand was like a vise, clamping onto her skinny wrist firmly.

"Hush li'le girl," a gravelly voice hissed. "Bad things happen ta people who don' obey."

"Please don't hurt me," she whimpered. Normally she would try and escape but she was tired, weak from lack of food and terrified out of her wits.

A hand stroked her arm, the touch was light, but it send shivers down her spine.

"Of course not m'dear, I wouldn' 'urt a lovely thing like y'self," he said in her ear, his disgusting smelling breath washing over her. She flinched away.

"Let me go," she whimpered. "Please."

" 'fraid I canna do tha'. Yer a lovely thing, and so young and tender too." His left hand snaked around her waist and travelled down her leg while the other released her wrist and wrapped around her chest. She struggled slightly but couldn't break free. A hot tongue slicked across her neck. She whimpered again.

"Let me go," she gasped out, her voice hoarse with fear.

Her back was pressed up against the wall of the alley as he pressed against her, hand slipping under her ragged dress and to places none had ever touched. She felt warm saliva on her breast as the shoulder of her dress was pulled down.

Panic thudded through her body, panic that turned to strength, she suddenly struck out, landing a blow to his chest, he immediately shoved her to the ground. She struggled to her feet and scrambled towards the exit of the dark alleyway. She was almost there when a hand wrapped around her ankle and dragged her back.

"Ye shouldnta done that," he growled. She cried out, finally managing to find her voice.

"Help! Somebody help m-mmph!" She was cut off as a mouth slammed onto hers, he forced his tongue into her mouth and practically down her throat, effectively silencing her cries. Then she bit down on his tongue as hard as she could, the coppery taste of blood permeated her mouth as he wrenched back, crying out in pain.

She slammed into him with all her might, causing him to stumble backwards to the ground.

"You itt'e bitch!" he shouted, blood pouring from his mouth. She pulled away, the look in his eyes read murder. She stumbled back further and further as he advanced. Her hand came in contact with something cold and hard. Her eyes widened. Maybe…

Then he lunged forward just as she brought the piece of sharp glass up to slice cleanly across the rapist's throat. He made an awful gurgling noise before stumbling forward on top of her, his death rattles grating on her ears as she sobbed into her bloody hands.

Ven woke up screaming. All she could see was the red, the blood that spilled from her hands and her mouth. The eyes of that man as he lay dead in the alley, killed by the desperation of a terrified little girl. Killed by her. She killed him.

She killed him.

Ven.

She was a murderer.

Ven…

She slit his throat with a piece of glass.

Ven!

She killed him.

"Ven!" The voice brought her back to reality and drew her out of the sobs that wracked her body. "Look at me Ven! Please! What happened? Are you hurt?"

She just continued sobbing, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

Then arms wrapped around her, but it was different than that time. It's okay…you're safe now. I'm here. That's what they said. At first she was tense and unmoving, but gradually, ever so gradually, her sobs subsided and she relaxed into his embrace as he rocked her back and forth.

"Shhh…I've got you…" he whispered.

They sat like that for a long time, her tear-drenched face buried into his chest, her arms limp and her body weak. But he just held her gently and didn't let go, didn't leave. He was there.

"I killed someone," she murmured after a long silence. He didn't react. She managed to push herself upward to face him, to look him in the eyes. "I killed a man. He…he tried to…to…" she felt tears well back up in her eyes, the fear from that time thrumming within her anew.

He hugged her tightly. "Don't talk if you don't want to."

She pushed him away, standing.. "No! I have to." She took a shuddering breath as he stood as well. "It was when I was in London, I was fourteen. Tired, starving. A man jumped me…he tried to…" her breath caught. "He tried to rape me. I-I killed him with a piece of glass I found in the alley. Slit his throat easily." She chuckled mirthlessly. "Humans are so weak. All it took was desperation and a piece of glass. We're weak! Pathetic! Worthless!" She punctuated each word by slamming her fist into the ground, but the third time he caught her fist.

"I am…" she coughed out. "I'm weak, pathetic. I'm worthless. Truest believer? Ha! I'm a dirty little street rat and a killer. I'm nothing." She squeezed her eyes shut, tears trickling down her face. All of the words people had hammered into her in her life echoed around her head like a curse. Abandoned…unwanted…weak…pathetic…alone…worthless… "Worthless. That's what I am."

She let her head drop to rest against his chest and needlessly hide her tears. Why bother? He'd already seen every drop and tear in her heart.

"Is that really what you think?" he whispered.

She didn't have the strength nor the will to respond.

Then he lifted her chin and shifted so she could see her reflection in a mirror he summoned.

"What do you see?" he murmured.

Her hair was disheveled, her face tear stained and her eyes were red and puffy. She was a mess. But her eyes…her eyes were like magnets in all their mismatched filth, eyes that held sorrow and cruelty, anger and pain. The eyes of a child that grew up to fast. Someone worthless. A waste product of the rotten world she'd abandoned.

"I see all hell," she said finally.

"I don't," he said. "I see Ven. Ven the Lost Girl of Neverland. A girl who was beaten down upon and thrust out by the world but got back up. The girl who looked into the eyes of the world that wanted her to fall apart and said 'I will not fall…I will not fade…' " He pulled her face towards him and rested his forehead against hers. " 'I will take your breath away…' "

She looked into his bright green eyes, stunned.

"You…Ven, you are the most important person in my world," he said. "You take my breath away with every action you take. You push past your struggles and get back up every time you fall. You are strong, maybe falling but never breaking. You're stronger than I could ever wish to be."

She looked away. "I'm not. I'm nothing. Unwanted." Then he cupped her face in his hands and leaned down, his lips brushed against hers, a mere whisper of a kiss.

"Oh Ven…" his voice was gentle, wistful almost. "If I could wish for one thing…anything at all…I would wish for you to see yourself through my eyes." His thumb rubbed against her cheek. "You silly girl…" he whispered, smiling though his eyes glinted with tears. "You've ruined me you know."

She stared, unable to speak.

"You think you are unwanted. You silly…beautiful girl. I want you…more than anything."

His head dropped down as she stared, then she saw glinting droplets falling to the floor, he was…crying. She stepped forward hesitantly, reaching forward and wordlessly taking his hand. She didn't say a word, she barely dared to draw breath as he leaned down, tears still on his cheeks, and kissed her tenderly…

…and she kissed back.

It was her first real kiss. It was real and true. It held none of the lies that the two of them threw around when they played their Game. No. This one was true and real. It seemed to take the memory of that time and replace it with something else, something good. She wrapped her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss even more while his arms pulled her closer protectively. She felt heat as orange flames climbed up her legs but did not burn.

After what seemed like a beautiful eternity the two broke apart and the fire faded slightly but did not disappear.

"Your flames," he murmured. "Not flames of anger…" he didn't voice the words they both knew.

As she looked into his green eyes, somewhere in her mind she knew that this was terribly idiotic. It was impossible. She was to die was she not?

"This really is a horrible, terrible idea," she murmured, managing to bring a small, tired smile to her lips.

"Shall we do it and see what happens?" he asked. She nodded.

"But what if…what if you leave me?" she whispered.

"I won't leave you. I promise."

She closed her eyes. "Is it possible?" She felt the flames flickering. "Is my fate…something more than death?"

The flames rose around them and did not burn. Flames of anger they were not…they were flames of a love fated to burn…

Thoughts? Hopes? Fears? Come on guys I'm dyin' here! Pleeeease review!