The Journey Renewed

Bae, Peter, and Morraine crept through the forest, the first with his bow ready and the last with her hand on the hilt of the sword. Peter was leading, explaining every now and again various aspects of interdimensional travel that he happened to know. Bae's and Morraine's eyes scanned their surroundings. "You two are pretty paranoid. You know that, right?" Peter asked over his shoulder.

"With good reason," Bae replied. "I've heard things since I left."

"What kind of things?"

"Ogres, trolls, werewolves, giant squids. Ever since the curse hit, this has been a treacherous place."

"So why did certain parts survive?"

"Magical shells," Morraine said. "That's the most common way to protect something, at least. Pan would know."

"I know all that, but who used it?"

"No idea," they said at the same time.

"Not even a sliver?"

"What do you know?" Bae asked.

"I used to leave Neverland sometimes. I saw things, strange things. A woman was here, with a staff."

"What sort of staff?"

"Long, wooden, with a knob on top." Bae nodded. That helped. "She stuck it in the ground and cast a spell on this part of the land, saving it from the curse. I haven't seen her since."

"Because she was locked up in the haven, and then she escaped to wreak havoc and do whatever else she does in her spare time."

"You met her?"

"Not the most pleasant company."

Peter stopped them in an expansive clearing exquisitely lit by angled sunlight and graced by a few boulders and a brook trickling slowly through it. "This is where we'll cross," he said. "Our best chances are when someone else crosses, too, but we don't need it, necessarily." Bae turned his face toward the east and started to move. Morraine grabbed him by the shirtsleeve and restrained him. "What does he feel?" Peter asked, with sudden, strange interest. Bae hardly heard him.

Finally he gasped and panted, and he looked at Peter. "If our best chances are to cross with someone else, I think now's our time." Peter nodded and walked toward the center of the clearing. Bae and Morraine followed.

Peter closed his eyes and breathed deeply. His mind would have to be perfectly clear if this was going to work. Once certain that he achieved this, he began to chant. Bae became aware of the buzz of magic at work. Morraine stared in awe as the brook began to glow light blue and its waters worked their way over to where the three of them stood. Water lapped at their feet, and a vortex began to form where they stood. Bae laced his fingers through Morraine's, and they clung tightly to each other.

Peter stopped chanting and turned to face them. "Take my hand," he said. They obeyed. "Now, don't let go." Bae suppressed a wry smile.

They fell through the vortex, and Bae was immediately shaken by the impression that something was about to go very, very wrong.

OUAT

Rumpelstiltskin sat up and clutched the armrests until his knuckles turned white. His connection with Bae was starting to fade. "Bae," he whispered. "Baelfire? Bae, are you there?"

"Papa?" Bae replied. "What's happening?"

"Bae, stay calm. Everything's going to be alright. I promise."

"Tell that to..."

"Baelfire?" Rumpelstiltskin stood, and he found his voice becoming increasingly panicked. "Bae?" There was something final about this disconnection. He could tell.

He sank to his knees and bowed his head, and then he looked up and started to stand again. He had one hope left: the magical Emma Swan.

OUAT

Bae was given one last moment to speak to his father but couldn't finish what he needed to say, so overwhelmed was he by the sense of pure, unadulterated evil. It made him want to choke on his own vomit, if he was able to vomit. The vortex and the intruding magic suppressed everything in him, devoting all of his energy, against his will, to his ability to feel magic. He thought he heard Peter screaming at him to not let go, and it took everything he had to try to obey. His grip on Morraine's hand tightened. Of that he was sure. But she was being taken away from him.

He was going to be isolated, he realized suddenly. The goal of the evil was to isolate everyone in that vortex from each other. But then he felt something else, something much more benevolent. Good magic? he asked himself. Was it trying to save them, keep them together so they could complete their journey? Was it completely unrelated and something he happened to feel in transit? Either way, he squeezed Peter's and Morraine's hands even tighter. "Don't let Peter go," he said. Whatever Bae's experience with Peter Pan, the intruder that was overwhelming his mind was much, much worse.

A sound like thunder cracked through the vortex, and as a result, Bae lost consciousness. Peter and Morraine gripped his wrists, but their hands were exhausted. Trying to keep him with them in this state seemed impossible, but Morraine knew she had to try, even if Peter was more ambivalent. Peter lost his grip on Bae's hand, and Morraine looked at him, suddenly aware she was faced with a choice, and, admittedly, an easy one. She released Peter's hand and pulled Bae close to her. They would fall together through this botched attempt to reunite father and son, and they would arrive at their destination in each other's arms.

OUAT

John stared at the tree this charlatan, in his mind, was standing before, arms outstretched and a wooden stick in his left hand. "How do you know this will work?" he asked, folding his arms and tilting his head to one side. The more this charade went on, the more certain he was that he was being bribed, and the angrier he was with the man making this ridiculous, half-hearted attempt at finding something to remove their biggest threat. The man hadn't answered his question, adding to his suspicions.

Then the tree split open, glowing very light blue. The man turned away and shielded his face. Something flew out of the hole and tumbled in the grass before resting next to a boulder A man walked over to the bundle and turned it over, and then he said to John, "It's just a boy."

"That's our best hope?" John asked gruffly. "Our fate lies in the hands of a boy?"

The robed man turned to John, lowered his hood to reveal a rectangular face with patches of white hair barely hanging on to his head, and said, "Yes, it does."