A/N: Did you guys see that Captain Hook is going to make an appearance next season? Bet they got that from us!

Well, they probably didn't, but it's nice to dream. :P

Disclaimer: We do not own Once Upon a Time. May credit be given where credit is due.

~Chapter VIII~

Belle woke to a raw, throbbing pain in her head, wrists and ankles. The musky smell of earth invaded her nostrils, and she could feel the tiny stems of leaves pressing against her back and cheek. Groaning slightly, she opened her eyes, immediately squeezing them shut against the harsh morning sunlight. She moved to rub a hand over her eyes, a jolt of fear rushing through her when she realized her arms were bound behind her. She jerked her arms several times, her panic mounting when she only managed to further chafe her wrists.

"Look, she's moving," a child's voice squeaked excitedly, "I told you she wasn't dead!"

Belle heard the sound of rustling leaves as several sets of feet approached; she braced herself for a possible attack. This time when she opened her eyes, she was met not with blinding sunlight, but the round, slightly dirty faces of several children eagerly looking down at her.

Her fear ebbed slightly and she moved to sit up, the action requiring twice as much effort as she realized her legs were bound as well. The young boys jumped back, eyeing her with curiosity as well as wariness.

Now seated upright, Belle let her eyes trail over the curious group. There were five of them; the one she suspected was the oldest seemed on the cusp of adolescence, while the smallest one seemed at most five years old. They were dressed in an odd, almost savage combination of cloth and animal hides. Around their waists they each wore a belt made of braided palm fronds. All of them, even the tiny one eyeing her from behind the legs of the tallest boy, brandished some sort of weapon: wooden clubs, slingshots, sticks tipped with sharpened rocks.

Despite their primitive appearance, the children did not seem terribly threatening. In fact, they gawked at her more out of fascination than fear.

"Are you a girl?" A short, pudgy boy wearing a hood made of grey fur asked, tilting his head to the side. Belle's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and she might have laughed at the question were it not for the genuine wonder in the lad's voice.

"A-a woman, yes," Belle answered. Suddenly, the group of boys seemed to awaken from their awed silence.

"Why are you in Neverland?" A tall, lanky boy with pockmarks on his face asked, stepping closer and taking in her strange clothing with raised eyebrows.

"I came here to help—"

"Did your nanny lose you?" A wide-eyed boy with black, spiky hair interrupted, nibbling on his fingernails.

"No, I came here with—"

"She's too old for a nanny, Nibs!" A boy with flaming red hair answered, shoving the black-haired boy-Nibs-on the shoulder.

"Maybe she's a fairy," piped in the smallest boy, his head peeking from around the tallest boy's legs.

"She's too big to be a fairy," said the red-haired boy, rolling his eyes.

"But she's pretty," the tiny boy said shyly, his face blushing. Belle could not hold back a smile at the sweet boy.

"If she's a fairy, Tootles, then where are her wings?" Nibs asked, pointing a grubby finger at Belle's back. Tootles shrugged, looking down at his feet.

"I'm not a fairy. I'm from a different land. I came here to find someone," Belle explained quickly, before the boys could launch into another argument.

"If you're supposed to be finding someone, what are you doing tied up?" A boy with bright blonde hair and a tunic made of deer's hide asked, folding his arms in front of him.

Belle's brow furrowed in confusion. "I was about to ask you the same question."

"We didn't tie you up," Nibs said, frowning slightly. "We found you like this."

The apprehension which had ebbed during the boys' interrogation returned in a painful rush. If the children had not bound her arms and legs, who had? Belle screwed her eyes shut, trying to recall what had happened. They had been walking. She had been writing in an old ledger. She tripped. Had she fallen and hit her head? Her head certainly hurt as though she had. But then, how had she ended up like this: her arms and legs bound so tightly it was a miracle she had not lost feeling in them? And where was Ru-

"Ow!" Belle yelped, her eyes shooting open and sending a reproving glare at the gangly, pockmarked boy who had just jabbed her shoulder with a stick.

"Sorry," he murmured, his face flushing, "You looked like you were having a fit or something..."

Taking a long, steadying breath, Belle put forth the sweetest smile she could muster under the circumstances.

"Well, if you boys did not tie me up, would you mind untying me? These ropes are rather uncomfortable."

The boy who had poked her turned around to face the others. They each shrugged noncommittally, except Tootles, who nodded enthusiastically. The boy crouched down at Belle's feet, brandishing a rock that had been filed to a point.

"Not so fast," a voice drawled from the trees. The boys' heads snapped up in the direction of the voice, their mouths stretching into wide smiles. A few leaves tumbled down to the ground, and a moment later a boy jumped down from the branches, falling more slowly and landing more softly than natural.

He was taller than most of the boys, likely taller than Belle herself, and wore a tunic of maple and fig leaves sewn together with spider's silk. His sun-kissed skin and the soft highlights in his dark hair spoke of many hours spent in sunlight. A small sword, not much larger than a dagger, hung from a length of rope tied about his waist.

He approached her, his steps languid and confident. The other boys stepped out of his way, their gazes glued to him in admiration.

"How can we be sure she's not one of Hook's?" The boy asked, coming to a stop at her feet gazing down at her.

"Hook?" Belle looked up at the curious boy, completely baffled.

"She doesn't look like a pirate; she hasn't even got a weapon," the red-haired boy pointed out, stepping closer.

"Well then, why is she here?"

For a moment Belle felt as though she were back on her father's war council, where the men had distastefully taken to discussing her as though she were not there, until she had set them right with a rather scathing outburst that culminated in her tossing her crown out of the window.

"We only arrived here yesterday," Belle explained. "Or was it the day before..." she murmured to herself, disoriented by the loss of time.

"We?" The boy began to circle her, clasping his hands behind his back. There was something strikingly familiar about his mannerisms.

"I came here with someone, a man. His name is—"

"Where is he?" The boy cut in, now standing directly beside her.

Belle bit back an exasperated sigh. These boys really needed to learn that it was impolite to interrupt.

"I don't know...We must have been separated." Anxiety coiled uncomfortably in Belle's stomach.

"Maybe he's in danger!" The black-haired boy—Nibs, Belle reminded herself—offered excitedly. Belle's heart clenched at the thought.

"She's got blood on her head; maybe it was an ambush," suggested the tall, lanky boy, pointing at Belle's forehead. Belle's hands began to shake.

"It could be an adventure!" The red-haired boy cried, raising his slingshot in the air.

The boy standing at Belle's side-judging by the others' behavior, he was something akin to their leader-grinned, his eyes glinting at the mention of adventure.

He brought a hand to his chin, his brow furrowed and lips pressed together in mock contemplation as the other boys continued pleading.

"All right," he spoke at last, and Belle almost did not hear his next words over the whoops and cheers of the others. "But if you turn on us, I'll feed you to the crocodile," he warned, though the dimpled smile on his face disbanded any legitimacy the threat held.

Belle released a sigh of relief as he bent down and sliced the blade of his sword through her bonds with practiced ease. She stretched her arms and rolled her shoulders, flinching slightly at the stiffness. Slowly rising to her feet, her legs aching as though they had scaled a mountain, she took in more of her surroundings. Several stones had been dislodged from the steep hillside: perhaps she had fallen after all. That still did not explain why she had woken alone and bound.
If only she could remember...Belle sighed deeply, running a hand through her hair and wincing as she brushed over the lump on her forehead. Ah, that explained it.

"Well, now that I know you're not out to kill us, allow me to introduce myself: I am Peter Pan, the bravest and most cleverest boy in the land!" Belle's youthful liberator declared, placing his fists against his waist and sticking his chin in the air.

"And these," he gestured to the group of boys standing before them, "are the Lost Boys."

"I'm Slightly!" The blond-haired boy with the deer's hide tunic declared, bowing elaborately and grinning puckishly when Belle responded with a curtsy, laughing lightly.

"Pox," said the tall, lanky boy with the pockmarked face curtly, extending a hand toward Belle, and then pulling it away with a laugh as she reached to grasp it.

"Nibs!" The black-haired boy shouted, jumping with excitement, his teeth chewing on his thumbnail.

"Curly!" The red-haired boy declared, pointing a stubby finger at his head.

"My name's Tootles," mumbled the smallest of the boys, waving shyly at Belle and blushing crimson when she waved in return.

They were overwhelming, these rambunctious boys, but Belle could not help smiling fondly at them. If only she knew where Ru-

"Well? Aren't you going to tell us your name?" Peter Pan prompted, quirking an eyebrow and smirking.

"What? Oh! Belle. I'm Belle," she smiled tentatively, feeling a little foolish.

"That's funny, you don't look or sound at all like a bell," Peter quipped, his eyes glinting mischievously at Belle's chuckle.

"Well, there's no sense waiting around here. We've a map of the island back at the tree house," he explained, "We can take a look and—where are you going?"

Belle had started walking farther along the base of the hill, pausing momentarily to turn and face the boys.

"I think we must have fallen down the hill. I'm looking for the man I mentioned, the one I came here with," she explained, turning around once more to continue her search.

"We've already had a look around. That's why we came here: this part of the island has the best fruit." As if to prove his point, the boy plucked what looked like a purple apple from a low-growing bush, taking a noisy bite out of its flesh.

"Well, what if he comes back?" Belle asked, frowning slightly.

"We've been here for hours," Slightly stated, "Not one sign."

"Besides, if it's a rescue we're planning, we'll need to prepare," Peter explained, relishing the idea of a new adventure. Belle chewed fretfully on her bottom lip, her eyes darting between the small group and their surroundings.

"If you're that worried, I can let the fairies know. They'll keep a lookout for him," he promised, and the mention of something familiar, something Belle knew she could trust, eased some of her anxiety. She nodded.

"All right, Lost Boys! To the Drey!" Peter shouted, spurring on another round of cheers from the boys.

Belle felt something small and warm slide into the palm of her hand, and looked down to find Tootles grinning toothily up at her. She smiled down at him, giving his hand an affectionate squeeze as they started up the slope of the hill.

Belle shook her head slightly as some of the boys tried to trip each other by tapping the backs of their knees.

Suddenly Peter stopped, stooping low to pick up something from the ground.

"What's that, Peter?" Tootles asked, standing on the tips of his toes to peer into Peter's hand. The other boys stopped their ascent, closing in for a better look.

"I don't know," Peter murmured, staring down at the thin silver chain in his palm.

"Is it yours?" Nibs asked, turning to look at Belle.

"I've never seen it before," Belle responded, shaking her head.

"I..I think I have..." Peter's voice trailed off, his eyes fixated on the chain but his gaze worlds away. He titled his hand sideways, watching as the metal glittered in the sunlight.

"Peter?" Tootles' tiny voice seemed to yank Peter out of his reverie; he closed his fist around the trinket, shaking his head slightly.

"It's nothing. Probably something the Indians made," he shrugged nonchalantly, continuing once more up the hillside.

The other boys followed his lead, talking animatedly and resuming their attempts to trip each other, so that only Belle noticed when Peter surreptitiously slid the silver chain into his pocket.

A/N: The Lost Boys have arrived!

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